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Lán Zhàn, as he does every year on his birthday since he and Wǎnyín moved in together, sleeps in a bit. He wakes up at his usual 5 o’clock, wraps his arms around Wǎnyín instead of getting up, and falls back asleep until an indolent 8 o’clock.
When he finally submits to the start of the day, he completes his morning ablutions and dresses in a button down and soft blue sweater that Wǎnyín crocheted for him back in one of his brief stints of hobby hunting, jeans and warm socks. Before he can leave the bedroom, Wǎnyín storms in still dressed in his soft and loose sleeping shirt though he has elected to wear sweatpants that are clearly Lán Zhàn’s by the rolled up cuffs. Wǎnyín is also dusted in many places with flour.
“What are you doing?” Wǎnyín hisses at him, the closest his husband will ever come to a whisper. “Get back in bed! Hurry!”
Lán Zhàn blinks in surprise as Wǎnyín leaves as quickly as he came in, but does as he asks. Soon, the stomping of two sets of little feet can be heard outside the door, then a quiet knock.
“Come in,” Lán Zhàn calls out.
Jīn Líng flings open the door, and throws his hands into the air. “Happy birthday!” Jīn Líng shouts.
Lán Yuàn smiles at the younger boy. “Dìdì was supposed to wait until Ā-diē has the tray.”
As the older child, Lán Yuàn was clearly given the breakfast tray, but he is also very clearly excited to show Lán Zhàn their efforts.
Lán Zhàn carefully takes the tray and settles it over his lap, holding it still as the two boys climb in beside him on either side. Ā-Yuàn nods at Ā-Líng and they both throw their hands up and cheer, “Happy birthday, Ā-diē! -Jiùfú!”
“Thank you, Ā-Líng, Ā-Yuàn,” Lán Zhàn nods at both boys in turn. The boys (and Wǎnyín as the only one of the three tall enough to use the stovetop) have made him what Jīn Líng and Wǎnyín considered Jiāng Yànlí’s traditional Birthday Breakfast, happy faces and far too much sweetness included.
Though Lán Zhàn doesn’t doubt Wǎnyín has already fed the boys, Lán Zhàn shares the sweeter parts of the breakfast with them, and they are very careful to eat over the tray as Lán Zhàn is, treating it as a very small table.
Once they are all finished, Jīn Líng offers, “Ā-Líng takes to Jiùjiù!” The little boy focuses on keeping the dishes balanced as he leaves the room.
Ā-Yuàn squirms in his place for a moment before throwing himself into Lán Zhàn’s lap and hugging him. “Happy birthday, Bàba. I love you.”
Lán Zhàn leans down and kisses Ā-Yuàn’s head. “I love you to, Ā-Yuàn, so much.”
They cuddle for a moment before Lán Zhàn pats Ā-Yuàn’s back. “Let’s get our shoes on and we’ll walk Xiǎo Xiānzǐ, alright?”
Ā-Yuàn nods and climbs off the bed. “We can go to the park you like, with the ducks?”
“It will be cold, but the snow will have melted enough to enjoy it,” Lán Zhàn agrees as they leave the bedroom to find Jīn Líng and Xiǎo Xiānzǐ waiting by the door. Jīn Líng is already wearing his coat and shoes and Xiǎo Xiānzǐ’s has her puppy jumper on.
Lán Zhàn leaves Ā-Yuàn to inspect Ā-Líng and put on his own things, and he walks into the kitchen to find Wǎnyín, still in pajamas but less coated in flour, scrubbing at the pans in vigorous fury the man only shows grease and idiots. Lán Zhàn steps up behind him and wraps his arms around Wǎnyín’s middle to draw him back for a kiss. Wǎnyín indulges him once, twice, three times before shoeing him away.
“Love you, too, Wàngjī. Now go take the wiggle worms for a walk before they start climbing my walls.”
“Our walls.”
Wǎnyín turns to him and sticks his tongue out at him. Lán Zhàn is already visible to the boys who perk up at seeing him or he would turn around and give Wǎnyín’s tongue something better to do.
Lán Zhàn climbs into his own coat and boots, and the four of them are off to the park with the duck pond that Lán Zhàn and Wǎnyín rekindled their acquaintance at some time ago. Years, really, though every moment Lán Zhàn has with Wǎnyín feels brand new and routine at the same time.
While the paths and benches are clear of snow the boys and Xiǎo Xiānzǐ are excited to see that the fields are still blanketed in white. They wait until Lán Zhàn is settled on his favorite bench before bouncing off to throw a ball back and forth for Xiǎo Xiānzǐ.
Lán Zhàn pulls a small notebook and pen, scratching down his musings or sketches of the boys and the dog playing, the scenery of frosted over pond, the spindly fingers of skeletal trees reaching for the sun.
In his youth he couldn’t have imagined the life Lán Zhàn now lives, wouldn’t have known to wish for it, so everyday feels like a gift to him. A family that loves him as fiercely as he loves them, two sons he wants to see grow into magnificent people they’ll become, a husband.
A husband he wouldn’t have wanted, but needs more than he can express.
Lán Zhàn stands and calls the boys back to him, their plump cheeks pink with cold and exertion as they tumble into him to hug Lán Zhàn’s legs. He takes off his gloves to warm each of their ears in turn as they nuzzle his wrists like puppies. Lán Zhàn smiles. It’s a very happy birthday.
“Time to head back,” Lán Zhàn tells them, pulling his gloves back on. He is bemused with the two share panicked looks with each other.
“What time is it?” Ā-Yuàn asks.
“Almost 11 o’clock.”
Jīn Líng puffs out his cheeks. “Can’t go home yet! Jiùjiù said to bring oranges!”
Lán Zhàn looks at Jīn Líng in surprise. Wǎnyín said nothing to him about picking oranges up from the store, but perhaps it slipped his mind while kissing Lán Zhàn. He feels his ears begin to pink. “Alright. We’ll go get oranges and then go home for lunch.”
Lán Zhàn takes Xiǎo Xiānzǐ’s leash and Jīn Líng’s hand, Ā-Yuàn taking Ā-Líng’s other and they make their way to the corner store on their block.
“Looks like they’re out,” Lán Zhàn says when they reach the fresh fruit section. “They have tangerines.”
Jīn Líng shakes his head and scowls. Lán Zhàn shares a look with Ā-Yuàn over Jīn Líng’s head. Ā-Líng had picked up more than a few expressions from Wǎnyín and Lán Zhàn and Ā-Yuàn often find this amusing.
“Oranges,” Jīn Líng commands. “Jiùjiù said.”
“We can check the store further down the street?” Lán Yuàn offers.
Lán Zhàn agrees, curious to find out the purpose of these oranges, now.
The next store also doesn’t have any, but the clerk is kind enough to direct them to another store that sells fresh produce a few blocks over. They follow this advice to find that this store is also out of oranges, and Lán Zhàn tells the boys it is lunch time now and they must go home.
“If Wǎnyín needs oranges after lunch, we can try again,” Lán Zhàn tells a frustrated Jīn Líng.
They follow this street to reach the cross section back to their home, but halfway there they come across a familiar face: Niè Huáisāng, standing in the middle of the sidewalk in a big puffy coat, looking at his phone, sipping one of his overly fancy boba drinks… with a basket of oranges at his booted feet.
Enough oranges to have come from three different stores, in fact.
Niè Huáisāng smiles at them and they approach. “Ah, Lán-xiōng! Good to see you! These are for you, happy birthday!”
Niè Huáisāng hands him the heavy basket of oranges and waves at the boys, walking away before Lán Zhàn can think of a reply. He glances down at the boys in confusion, but neither will look him in in the eye.
“Ā-Líng takes Xiǎo Xiānzǐ,” Jīn Líng says, scooping the leash out of Lán Zhàn’s hand.
“Alright, but don’t walk too far ahead, and hold Ā-Yuàn’s hand the whole way home.”
Both boys nod and clasp mittened hands together, and they reach home again just as little bellies begin to growl.
Wǎnyín is waiting by the door for them to unleash Xiǎo Xiānzǐ and free the boys of their winter wear.
“Go wash your hands,” he shoos them off. Wǎnyín takes the basket from Lán Zhàn but waits for him to take off his on winter wear before leading him into the kitchen.
Wǎnyín is dressed very nicely for a cozy day at home, Lán Zhàn realizes as he steps over to the sink to wash his hands. His husband is wearing Lán Zhàn’s favorite baby purple turtle neck and dove grey trousers. His hair is pulled back in a high horse tail that makes him want to grab it and curl it in his fist.
Wǎnyín narrows his eyes at him as if he can read Lán Zhàn’s thoughts. “Go wash your hands,” he commands, returning to his inspection of the oranges.
Lán Zhàn finishes and dries his hands. He can smell whatever fine lunch Wǎnyín has made for them in the dining room and their goose chase earlier has left him hungry as well.
Wǎnyín steps in his path, blocking him in against the island and kissing him long and slow. He does this until Lán Zhàn hears the boys heavy foot falls heading to the dining room.
Wǎnyín pulls back, his face flushed pink and lips wet. “Lunch time,” he mutters as if a reminder to himself before guiding Lán Zhàn into their dining room.
“Surprise!” Cheers four voices, the boys and Lán Xīchén and Lán Qǐrén. “Happy birthday!”
Lán Zhàn smiles softly at them all. There is a hand painted banner on the wall Wǎnyín normally uses as a gallery for the boys drawings and achievements. It reads ‘Happy birthday’ and has painted hand prints and hearts and bunnies (some more dog-like than others), and lunch is a spread of Lán Zhàn’s favorites.
Lán Xīchén wanders over to give him a hug while Shūfù nods from his place settling the boys at the table.
“Xiōngzhǎng,” Lán Zhàn greets, returning his brother’s embraced.
“Happy birthday, dìdì,” Lán Xīchén smiles at him. “Shūfù and I will be taking the boys and Xiǎo Xiānzǐ after lunch.”
Lán Zhàn can feel his ears heating. He gives his brother an arch look, but Lán Xīchén only chuckles.
“Enough greetings, everyone sit and eat,” Wǎnyín commands from his place at the table.
“Indeed,” Shūfù agrees. He clears his throat. “And happy birthday, Wàngjī, may you have many more.”
Lán Zhàn nods to his Shūfù and they begin to eat the lovely meal his husband prepared for him.
In deference to his family’s practice the boys and Wǎnyín refrain from their usual meal time banter, but afterwards Wǎnyín has everyone sing Lán Zhàn happy birthday while he brings out a fruit tart he made in lieu of a cake with Lán Zhàn’s dislike of sweets. Lán Zhàn blows out the candles and the adults settle into the living room for a slice of tart and coffee, the boys having hot chocolate.
Shūfù and Xiōngzhǎng don’t stay very long after dessert before packing up the boys and heading out.
As soon as the door closes behind him, Wǎnyín turns to him with a smirk. “Well, is there anything else Wàngjī would like for his birthday?”
Lán Zhàn growls at his minx of a husband before pinning him down to the couch and covering his face with kisses. Wǎnyín squirms and starts to giggle, so Lán Zhàn in retaliation pulls down the collar of that lovely, tightly fitted turtle neck and bites his way down towards Wǎnyín’s shoulder.
His husband moans. “Okay, I guess you want to open your present now? Bedroom?”
Lán Zhàn stands and picks Wǎnyín up off the couch, which sends him into giggles again, and marches towards their bedroom.
It’s a very, very happy birthday.