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One thing to know about Hua Cheng was that he positively loved thunderstorms. The more chaotic, wild, and terrifying, the better. They scratched some deep, animal itch in him, a forever sore and gnarled piece of himself leftover from childhood– the part that kind of liked seeing tidy things torn apart by forces impossibly stronger than themselves. Whip-fast, furious, and unforgiving in what his young mind could only fathom as perfect justice, they were a force of nature in the purest sense. Hua Cheng, too, had once been called that by a teacher, though it had been 25% in joking and 75% in fear, a vain attempt to skirt around what she– what everyone – had as good as decided: this one is a lost cause. This one will do more harm than good. 

They failed to account for his tenacity, of course– a mistake that he suspected might have some of the former authority figures in his life kicking themselves, if he could be bothered to spare them any more care than the dirt on his heel. 

Now, after years and years of shrewd deals, pushing himself to and past his limits, and clawing his way to the top by whatever means necessary, Hua Cheng had very little in his busy life as a CEO and the country’s most eligible (and least interested) bachelor that could remind him of his youth: his car, his residence, even his wardrobe dripped with sleek, modern elegance; he had grown tall and broad and menacingly beautiful; and his social standing finally commanded the respect and influence of all that good karma he’d been banking for the better part of thirty years. So, yes– long gone were the days of sour cigarette burns leaving crop circles on the carpeting and gaping holes in the drywall, of scraping at locked closet doors till his fingernails were splintered and bloody, of sitting around and waiting to die in some kinder, quicker way than he was offered daily at that godforsaken house.

Even so, all it took was that little bit of electricity in the air– that distant but deliciously inevitable rumble– and then those first drops, the promise of the deluge–

While all his subordinates stumbled into work with soaked shoes, umbrellas blown into the shape of some kind of stupid mechanical tulip, Hua Cheng capered about the office with a light-hearted whistle and a devilish pep in his step. Everyone had long since learned not to question it– the country’s most powerful businessman was many things, but ‘good-humored’ was rarely one of them. They weren’t eager to test their luck.

It wasn’t just this twisted satisfaction that drew Hua Cheng to the window in any dark and stormy weather– there was also the faint memory of some old softness, a tenderness that lifted its head to Hua Cheng, even in the slightest drizzle. Those days found Hua Cheng much the same, just… quieter. More contemplative. Often, he found himself staring into the hazy rainfall outside his office window, as though if he looked long enough, it would take a shape he recognized.

Even so, nothing had the effect on Hua Cheng that a perfect storm did: from the soothing rush of the rain, to the addictive spike of adrenaline with every crack of thunder, to the beautiful webbing of lightning across a heavy, smoke-gray sky– Hua Cheng really, really loved thunderstorms.

Well. Usually. But then, this had been destined to be a decidedly abnormal day from the start– much to Hua Cheng’s deep chagrin.

When the first telltale pitter-patter dotted his windshield on the morning drive in, that alone was enough to thoroughly lift his spirits in advance– enough so that he could have overlooked his schedule being quadrupled-booked again, and the interpreter he had hired staggering forty-five minutes late to the most important meeting of the financial year, mumbling some incompetent nonsense about the state of the roads, and the elevator breaking on the way to the only coffee break he’d managed to steal that entire day, and the fire alarm going off because of some wiring made finicky by the storm, and his very, very late dinner being delivered to an entirely different office and already eaten by some intern by the time he’d looked up from a veritable sea of paperwork and noticed anything was wrong–

Yes. Hua Cheng could have overlooked a lot, riding the high of a whole day of his favorite weather. Now, however–

Hua Cheng forcibly relaxed his white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, bringing one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in an attempt to will away a mounting migraine. Nothing tanked an already ruined day like hours of bumper-to-bumper traffic. 

He didn’t even dare look at his watch– he was sure it was nearing eleven o’clock by now, at earliest. The light rain that he’d perked up at this morning had since developed into a downpour, the kind that could soak a body through with a single drop. Each one pelted the windshield like a liquid bullet, wholly undeterred by the frantic movement of the wipers on full speed; they cut fruitlessly through harsh streaks of red light, indicating that yes, not a single one of these cars was going anywhere fast.

Hua Cheng could rarely be called good-humored, but even more rarely could he be called patient.

His eyelid twitched dangerously as the driver behind him laid on their horn– again, as though he had anywhere to fucking go– fittingly enough, exactly the place where the red one used to be. By the time he’d reached adulthood, his ‘cursed’ eye had been so repeatedly damaged that he could hardly see properly through it. For Hua Cheng, the decision to have it surgically removed had been a very easy one. However, the occasional flicker of tension beneath the hollow socket irritated him greatly– unlike storms, the eye was not among the few things he recalled fondly from childhood. 

Hua Cheng slipped a finger beneath his eyepatch to massage the tension away, and barely suppressed a snarl at yet another wail of the horn behind him– he swore the fuck to God, he was about ten seconds away from getting out of this car and graciously informing the driver that–

The glowing rivulets on his windshield abruptly darkened as the brake lights ahead flashed off; Hua Cheng nearly missed it in his distraction, but he swiftly dropped his hand with a groan of, “oh, thank Christ,” and began easing the car forward into the little space he was granted as the traffic appeared to get moving again. If he was lucky, maybe he could still get home by midnight and scavenge through whatever takeout was in the fridge, and after this clown show of a day, maybe he could get away with calling in for some personal time tomorrow–

SCREECH!

“Shit–!”

No sooner had the car picked back up to a moderate speed than the blurry form of the taxi cab in front of Hua Cheng’s had flared bright red again, hardly giving more than a split second for him to slam on his own brakes as it skidded to a sudden halt. Hua Cheng had barely missed rear-ending it, and presumably had only avoided being hit himself by the grace of whatever god he had just thanked.

“For fuck’s sake– idiot– ” Hua Cheng spat the curse under his breath, readjusting in his seat to reach for the gear shift; if he really gave it some gas, he could probably skirt into an opening in the next lane to pass this moron, and then maybe, maybe he could get some fucking rest–

His hopes were dashed again, somewhat literally, as the sea of fiery red lights flickered behind a sudden shadow as it moved; Hua Cheng squinted at the form that was now blocking his only path of exit, finding it taking the shape of a person darting out of the taxi in front of Hua Cheng’s car, straight through the raging storm– right into the dead center of the moving traffic.

Hua Cheng barely had a moment to spare for shock before he barked an incredulous laugh, the sound harsh and nearly murderous about the edges. 

“Surprise after motherfucking surprise,” he muttered, throwing the car into park with the kind of unnecessary force that could only come from a man too used to getting what he wanted after being inconvenienced upwards of twenty times in one day. He didn’t know what this person’s problem was, but if he had to shove them back into their taxi with his own two hands just to get home, then by god, he’d do it.

The roar of the storm combined with the rising cacophony of car horns and tire screeches assaulted him as soon as Hua Cheng pushed open the car door, only amplified by the rain battering against his umbrella. He’d barely managed to get it open in time to avoid being immediately soaked to the skin, and still had to keep an iron grip on the handle to avoid losing it altogether in the torrent of wind, but he paid it no mind as he tramped through puddles and wove between idling vehicles toward the figure; now that he was closer, he could see this individual had no umbrella of their own, barely even a coat worthy of repelling a stiff wind, let alone a storm like this one. Hua Cheng scowled as he drew closer to their drenched form, slumped in a crouch on the pavement– seriously, who the hell runs out of a car in the middle of a thunderstorm?– preparing to shout at them over the noise and even drag them to standing by the scruff of their damn neck if necessary—

The next moment happened like it happens in movies or novels sometimes. Hua Cheng would think this numbly to himself later that night, on an unfamiliar couch in an unfamiliar room, barely able to do anything but marvel in silence at the mysteries of fate. 

One second, one of his stupidly expensive shoes had sloshed into a brimming pothole as he arrived at the figure’s back. The next, the car directly behind them both had flashed on their brights in protest. And the next– the figure turned, caught in the dancing flickers of each individual droplet and the glare of the headlights on all sides, their shape in the rain lit up like a torch– like an angel.

An angel Hua Cheng knew.

Xie Lian.

Xie Lian, the figure Hua Cheng had been looking for in the rain ever since he was twelve years old. Xie Lian, the only person who had ever shown the neighborhood delinquent a scrap of kindness. Xie Lian, now clutching some raggedy black bundle to his chest like he’d die without it. Xie Lian, red in the face, soaked to the bone, and even more beautiful than Hua Cheng remembered– miraculously here again, looking up at him like he had never disappeared from Hua Cheng’s life without a trace.

The storm, the road, the events of the day– oh god, of the last twenty years– fell away, simple and immediate, like the scenery changing in a dream. For all Hua Cheng knew, he and Xie Lian were the only two living things for miles around. Hua Cheng… was still living, wasn’t he? He hadn’t actually been hit by the car behind him and gone sailing headfirst through his windshield into this very unconventional idea of Paradise? Hua Cheng couldn’t feel his fingertips, his tongue. The umbrella was tugging out of his loosening grip. His right shoe was full of water. He couldn’t speak. 

It turned out the latter detail was just as well, because Xie Lian was already doing all the talking, just like he always used to– and oh, his words cut crystal clear and true through the din like the voice of a god, and Hua Cheng had not cried in many years, not really, but now–

“I-I’m so sorry, sir–” Xie Lian stammered, still looking pleadingly up at him, those warm brown eyes glowing like precious gems, even in the light of some ruddy old highbeams, of all things. “I just–”

“Mrrow!”

The bundle cupped in Xie Lian’s hands gave a wriggle and a loud complaint, flashing a glimpse of wet, matted black fur and one feline eye as it attempted to burrow out of the circle of Xie Lian’s embrace. A flash of irritation surged in Hua Cheng at the sight. Foolish, he thought instinctively, to be in those arms and want to leave.

Xie Lian let slip a sheepish laugh at the sound, holding the kitten firmly against his core to prevent its ill-informed escape. “I saw this poor little thing still moving in the road, and everyone was picking up speed so fast, and I couldn’t just leave it to die–”

Hua Cheng had just started to string up his jaw to speak again, only now he had to figure out how the hell to explain himself– to explain all this– that Xie Lian didn’t need to apologize, didn’t need to call him 'sir'– because it was just him.

It’s me, gege– it’s your Hong’er–

Xie Lian tucked the soggy little creature into the side of his jacket, as though that would be of any help. The pitifully thin fabric was dripping wet, the damp drawing a fierce shiver from Xie Lian’s slight frame; in his mind’s eye, Hua Cheng could see a nearly identical scene. A different night, in a different part of the world, in a body that was hungrier, weaker, more desperate than he liked to remember these days– sitting numbly out in the pouring rain and crackling lightning, waiting for perfect justice. 

Instead of justice, suddenly, there was Xie Lian. Gentle and wonderful Xie Lian from two or three houses down the road, crouched before him and holding a blanket above his matted hair, peering at Hua Cheng from beneath the hood of his own rain slicker with a soft, welcoming smile. They had both been so much younger then, but Hua Cheng always remembered Xie Lian speaking with a sincerity and presence of mind beyond his years.

“There you go– that’ll keep you dry. What’s your name?”

Hua Cheng generally wasn’t one for cliches, not even back then– but he would always firmly believe in love at first sight, having experienced it so strongly for himself.

Drawn forward as if by instinct, Hua Cheng stumbled out of the puddle he was standing in, forgetting explanations, forgetting decorum, and abruptly extended the umbrella to shelter them both. Xie Lian’s gaze darted up in surprise, falling back to Hua Cheng’s own as he came to stop less than a foot away. God, he was even more beautiful up close.

“Don’t apologize. It’s fine. You… you did a good thing,” Hua Cheng all but stammered. Nice, real smooth talker you are, he began to inwardly chastise, though the needling voice was chased away by Xie Lian’s face lighting up in a grateful smile. Despite being out of the rain, water was still trickling down the sides of his face from his hairline, tracing delicate little brooks along his temples, the apples of his cheeks, the hairpin curl of his mouth.

“Ah– well…” Xie Lian’s lips parted, revealing a cluster of sweet half-moon indents where he’d apparently bitten his lower lip. “Thank y–”

HONK HONK!

The pair jumped at the sudden sound– it appeared the driver of the cab Xie Lian had just abandoned was none too pleased at the events unfolding. Ironically enough, now Hua Cheng was the one whirling around and glaring daggers in its direction– where the hell do you have to be so fast, huh?! We’re having a fucking moment!– only barely biting back the hurled curse for Xie Lian’s sake. Turning back, Hua Cheng fixed his face just in time to see Xie Lian using the hand that wasn’t securing the kitten to his side to wave in deference.

“As far as it being a good thing, you’re kind to say so– but really, it wasn’t anything so heroic!” Xie Lian laughed good-naturedly. Two twin roses were blooming pink on his cheeks, and Hua Cheng had to dig his nails into his palm to keep from dropping the umbrella right there and surging forward to embrace him like a child. “It was so lucky that I noticed the poor thing at all in this weather! Anyone would have done the same thing, if they’d only seen him.”

Hua Cheng’s heart soared and winced at once– of course Xie Lian was still the same selfless person he had always been, and of course he still assumed too much good from people. The truth was, almost nobody would have stepped out to save an animal in the road, even if they had seen it. Hua Cheng probably wouldn’t have even done so himself– sure, maybe he might have felt a bit badly driving past, but he didn’t have the time or capacity for random acts of kindness, not anymore. He was too… busy for that now. Yes, that was it. Too busy and too important– desired in too many places and really needed in too few.

At the thought, a powerful chill coursed through Hua Cheng that had nothing to do with the rain. He was wildly different in appearance, that much he already knew, and so it made plenty of sense that Xie Lian didn’t appear to recognize him– but if he did, what on earth would he think? Yes, Hua Cheng had been little more than a scrawny young punk back then, but he’d had a painfully real, bleeding heart to show for it nonetheless. What would the kindest soul Hua Cheng had ever known make of him now: a cold, threatening, ruthless thing with a heart so out of use it could be considered entirely absent? 

Though perhaps, judging by how deeply it was aching now, that heart might not be quite as neglected as he’d thought.

“Gege is too modest,” Hua Cheng found himself murmuring on autopilot, his affection left unguarded, letting the mask slip just long enough to confess below the ambient noise of the road, “I’m in awe of him, still.”

In a hysterical stroke of luck, Xie Lian only cocked his head with a quizzical look. “Huh? You’re catching a chill? Oh, goodness, of course you are, out in this rain… Well, thank you so much for the umbrella, but I’ll get right out your hair– let me just find my taxi–”

Hua Cheng nerves went alight with panic as Xie Lian started to shuffle away, lowering his head in thanks. His brain was running in frantic circles, desperately seeking some logical reasoning for Xie Lian not to go. He had only just found Xie Lian again, and now– no, no– not yet–!  

Thankfully, however, Hua Cheng wouldn’t have to do all the work of rationalizing that on his own.

VROOM!

Apparently, Xie Lian’s taxi driver had had enough of waiting. With a blur of grungy headlights, some unintelligible insult flung out the window, and a violent bellow of the engine to boot, the yellow cab tore past the pair, skidding dangerously between openings in the traffic to make a very swift, and very intentionally rude exit. Even worse, this was perfectly punctuated by another one of those “just like in the movies” moments, though a great deal less romantic than the first.

SPLASH!

As the cab flew by, the driver’s side tires plunged into the pothole Hua Cheng had only just slogged through, sending two tidal waves directly onto them both in quick succession– drenching both Xie Lian’s threadbare clothes and Hua Cheng’s custom tailored, one of a kind designer suit in muddy rainwater from head to miserably soggy toe.

Hua Cheng stared down in disbelief at himself, then up at the matching lines of dirty water streaking his umbrella– the inside of his umbrella– and then at poor Xie Lian, his already ruined clothes now splattered with filth from the road. His hands began to tremble with fury, cursing himself for not getting the scum’s plate number before he had sped off; a mere fine was almost certainly too lenient– only twenty-five to life, at minimum , would do–

“Pfft– hahaha! ” 

Hua Cheng’s inner tirade was halted by a bright, crooked-sounding laugh, the sound tumbling out of Xie Lian with such force that he almost doubled over.

“Oops… Well, I guess that serves me right, huh? Hah!” Xie Lian wiped a tear from one eye, squinting apologetically at the state of Hua Cheng’s suit. “Only– oh, I’m so sorry about your clothes. You’ll have to let me pay for the cost of cleaning them, please– I’m sure I can manage someth–”

The lump beneath Xie Lian’s jacket gave another piercing yowl of protest, so truly miserable that it tugged even at Hua Cheng’s rusty heartstrings; Xie Lian peeled the fabric back to give the kitten a gentle stroke on the nose.

“Shh, shh, poor thing… It’s alright, I’ll get you somewhere warm and dry,” he cooed, and Hua Cheng had to fight back a surge of genuine envy against a stray cat. 

“Just hold out for me, okay? I’ll, uh…” Xie Lian reached one hand around to his back pocket, starting to fumble with the first flip phone Hua Cheng had seen in real life since his high school days. “I guess I’ll call another cab…”

Hua Cheng’s head was shaking before he could even register his own movement. “Please, gege, there’s no need to put yourself out like that,” he insisted. “Allow me to assist.” 

The endearment had been a risky move, Hua Cheng readily admitted– but when Xie Lian gave him a curious look, Hua Cheng covered by painting on a tidy, polite smile: just enough of the truth to affirm that Xie Lian could trust him, but not so much that he would be frightened away.

Okay, so maybe this wasn’t the reunion Hua Cheng always dreamed of, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to make the most of such an unexpected blessing.

Hua Cheng mustered whatever charm he could still claim, and swept an elegant (albeit a little grimey) hand back in a gentlemany gesture toward his idling car, a waiting island among the moving traffic. 

If he couldn’t be an old friend, then he would gladly be a new one.

“Hop right in, gege. I’ll bring you wherever you need to go.”

🐾

“Here we are!” Xie Lian huffed, as he unlocked and swung open the front door. “Home sweet home.” He flashed a smile back toward Hua Cheng where he was valiantly trying to look smooth and charismatic while dragging his sweaty corpse through the doorway. 

Xie Lian had promised his place was just around the corner from where they’d stopped on the road, and that had been true, barely another fifteen minutes away– he had, however, neglected to mention that his house was another ten minute hike uphill from the nearest street parking spot they could find. While Xie Lian had bounded through the winding maze of multi-family homes, unbothered and clearly used to the exercise, Hua Cheng had gotten too accustomed to the “personal elevator with only one button directly up” treatment. He prayed that it didn’t show as he desperately tried to control his heavy breathing and swallow past the burning in his throat. If he was going to befriend (re-befriend?) Xie Lian now, he would have to start reintroducing some more cardio into his workout regime.

“Th- wheeze- thank you for having me, g– ahem! I’m honored to be…” Hua Cheng trailed off as he straightened, taking in the house in full– though, to even call it a house at all may have been a stretch. A spacious shed might have been a bit more apt. The entire home was laid out on one floor, with barely two full rooms altogether: the kitchenette bled into the apparent living room, which was also the apparent bedroom, as Hua Cheng didn’t note any bed besides a duct-taped-together futon against the far right wall, facing a TV the size of a postage stamp, complete with VCR player and two cock-eyed cable antennas. On the far left, a bathroom was crammed awkwardly into the corner with a shower stall that was so small that it could have doubled as a broom closet.

It was… quite far from the opulence Hua Cheng had always associated with Xie Lian in his memories, if for no other reason than because beauty always surrounded beauty. He’d never have been granted permission to set foot inside the Xie family home, but even in his youth, he’d always marveled that a house like his could exist on the same street as one like that. The best view Hua Cheng was afforded was skirting past it on a bike he’d stolen from one of his brothers: the house was poised like a monument, exuding what some might refer to as ‘humble elegance,’ bracketed by neatly clipped hedgerows laid out meticulously about sprawling grounds. Hua Cheng hadn’t even known another child lived there until he met Xie Lian. The only signs of his existence were strewn about like little clues in a mystery: an occasional soccer cleat left on the front step, an abandoned lawn game– but most notable of all, the towering peak of an old treehouse, peering up from the backyard over the highest gables of the estate.

By contrast, Hua Cheng had already swept his gaze over the entirety of Xie Lian’s home several times in the few moments he had been left in the entryway. It was certainly warm and dry, but there was so little area to cover that looking over it all did not take long– however, he quickly noted that Xie Lian had made up for the size (or lack thereof) with a truly eclectic sense of style. Every visible surface had a knick-knack or tchotchke, ranging from rows of collectible salt and pepper shakers, to books with unintelligibly faded covers, to a long, twisted piece of driftwood wrapped in string lights and suspended from the ceiling as a makeshift chandelier. The paint on one of the walls had faded in one place, to which it seemed Xie Lian had repeatedly tried and failed to shade-match, resulting in a wide swath of patchwork splotches of yellow all along the living room wall, like dappled morning sunshine. 

It certainly couldn’t be compared to the grandeur Xie Lian grew up in, nor Hua Cheng’s own born-again nouveau riche style– though, as was apparent by Hua Cheng’s slow smile as he took the space in, this was only because it was in a category all its own. Endearing, heartfelt, homey, and perfectly unique. Just like his gege.

“You can leave your shoes over by the vent to dry, if you like,” Xie Lian advised, depositing a large cooking pot into the kitchen sink and twisting both of the squeaky faucets on full blast. “Oh, and let me grab you some dry clothes too! Gotta drive off that chill, don’t we?” 

Still chattering, Xie Lian abandoned the steadily filling pot and sped by in the direction of the ‘bedroom’ (read: the corner of the house that the futon occupied), though not before gently tucking the newly swaddled kitten into Hua Cheng’s arms, much to his alarm. “Just hold onto him for me for a second, would you?”

“Eh– I– is it safe to–?” Hua Cheng stuttered after Xie Lian, holding the bundle firmly between two hands, but at as considerable a distance from his person as he could get. Only the creature’s head was visible, though it appeared to have tuckered itself out by yowling all the way home, and had just given up on escaping its makeshift straitjacket.

Xie Lian’s answer was called over one shoulder where he’d partially disappeared behind an old dressing room screen, patched in several places with what appeared to be Christmas-themed wrapping paper.

“Oh, sure! I checked him for injuries or any signs of parasites in the car– lucky little fella looks pretty good, all things considered!” Xie Lian’s head popped back up with a bright grin. “And I was right about that bit, too– it’s a boy!” he practically cheered with a triumphant wave of a sweatshirt above his head. Hua Cheng had to crack a genuine smile at that– Xie Lian’s joy had always been an infectious thing.

“He’s plenty feisty, as I bet you’ve noticed!” Xie Lian laughed from the corner. “Even if there is anything up, I think it can safely wait till work tomorrow.”

Hua Cheng perked up, hungry for any new information he could get. “Oh? What’s gege’s work?”

Xie Lian momentarily stepped out from behind the screen, holding a pair of sweatpants before him and seeming to size them up against Hua Cheng’s build. Apparently, he was dissatisfied with his findings, as he merely tsk’d and tossed them aside, diving back down to continue digging as he made his reply.

“I work at an animal shelter– speaking of lucky breaks, haha! I see plenty of cases like this guy, so thankfully our shelter vet won’t be fazed by it at all. Also, uh… haha, well– I tend to bring a lot of animals in, so I’d bet they’ve been expecting a new guest from me soon anyway!”

Hua Cheng smiled wistfully; this wasn’t surprising to him in the least. Xie Lian had always been the sort to be kind to wild, stray things– even ones that arguably didn’t deserve it.

An unruly squirm and a low growl drew Hua Cheng’s mind back to the present issue; the kitten had apparently had enough of playing nice, and was now doing an admirable impression of a fish trying to wriggle out of Hua Cheng’s hands. Hua Cheng knit his brow and closed his hands about the towel, raising the animal to eye level with a firm glare.

“Cut that out, you little goblin,” he snapped, making sure to lower his voice enough so that Xie Lian wouldn’t hear. “Plenty of cats would give all nine of their lives to be cared for by gege, so I hope you know how good you have it. And don’t get cocky– I see one scratch on him, and you’re going to wish you were left on that road. You got that?”

The raggedy thing must have taken the fully intended offense, if its tiny, indignant hiss was anything to go by. Thankfully, both of them were back on their best behavior as soon as Xie Lian approached them again, a stack of dry clothes and a neatly folded pair of socks tucked under one arm. 

“Oh, hush now,” Xie Lian tutted. “He’s not that scary…”

Hua Cheng cocked one mischievous brow. “Which one of us do you mean?”

Xie Lian giggled with a twinkle in his eye. “Hah! I’ll let you use your imagination for that one. Trade ya?”

He smoothly pulled the towel-and-cat burrito back into his embrace while passing off the clothes; in the movement, one hand briefly pressed against the crook of Hua Cheng’s elbow, and Hua Cheng nearly sighed out loud to feel the warmth ebbing from it. Xie Lian continued, absent-mindledly bouncing the kitten as though it were a human baby– though surprisingly, the creature had gone sleepy and docile again as soon as it was back in Xie Lian’s arms. 

Well. Hua Cheng couldn’t fault it for that, he supposed. 

“You’re welcome to change in the bathroom– just mind the ceiling fan, sometimes it rattles a little until you push it back into place.” Xie Lian shrugged one shoulder– one obviously still soaked shoulder, Hua Cheng noted dolefully.

“Will gege change after me?” he pressed. “You’re even worse off than I am, and I won’t have you getting sick on my behalf.”

Xie Lian nodded intently. “Oh, yes! I just want to make sure that he’s all set up for his…” His voice faded into silence as his eyes widened, a slow build of realization that culminated in a hilarious cry of, “Oh, shoot–! The water–!” before he whirled around to the pot in the kitchen sink that was now very heavily overflowing.

Despite Xie Lian’s obvious tizzy, Hua Cheng really had to bite his lip to stop an enamored laugh in its tracks, watching Xie Lian doddering about his space and scrambling to turn off the faucets while calming a kitten and shooing Hua Cheng away to, “Go on ahead, get changed or you’ll get sick for sure! I’ll be right after you, promise!”

“Hah– okay, okay, gege, I’m going…”

Hua Cheng changed into the spare clothes quickly, reluctant to let Xie Lian out of his sight for even a moment. Predictably, they were several sizes too small, and he had to be mindful about how high he lifted his arms if he didn’t want to expose his midriff– but he had much more important things to think about now than his own looks. A cursory scowl in the bathroom mirror at his disheveled hair was the most vanity he allowed himself, and he roughly carded his fingers through it, pushing it behind his ears as neatly as possible without knocking over the toiletries with his elbow. Someone of his height was clearly not meant to be in Xie Lian’s bathroom. Hua Cheng was pretty sure he’d been in larger phone booths before, and a peripheral glance at the shower confirmed that it actually did, in fact, double as a broom closet.

He laid out his drying suit as neatly as possible, though he expected with the fancy, imported material, it was probably a lost cause– if that was the trade he had to make for Xie Lian’s presence in his life again, Hua Cheng would do so gladly. 

As he stepped out of the bathroom, he found the room’s lights lowered to a soothing glow and Xie Lian’s back to him as he swayed about the kitchenette, talking in hushed tones to the kitten while stroking its head. Occasionally, he would draw his hand aside and dip his fingertips into the pot of water, swirling them in a careful circle to test the temperature.

Hua Cheng had almost been committed to keeping his eye to himself, but when everything Xie Lian did brimmed with such grace, it was hard to give much thought to willpower. His gaze followed the line of Xie Lian’s arm, up the thin jacket drying in lopsided patches, noting how Xie Lian’s chestnut brown hair had grown nearly all the way down his back. The force of the rain had wound it into several thin tangles, ones that Hua Cheng was now guiltily imagining combing out one by one, drying by hand, finishing with a tender kiss on every lock.

“Oh, done already?”

Xie Lian’s query snapped Hua Cheng out of his daydream. “Oh, uh– yes, thank you.”

“No trouble, no trouble– only, uh… there should be some baby shampoo in the shower caddy. Would you grab that– uh…” For the second time that evening, Xie Lian trailed off, turning to stare at Hua Cheng in mortified realization. Hua Cheng didn’t exactly understand why at first– only to burst into wild laughter once he too realized: Xie Lian had gone all this time without even asking this complete stranger his name.

“Haha– sorry, sorry– it’s, uh…” Again, the truth dangled so longingly on the tip of his tongue, so desperately close to opening the floodgates and telling Xie Lian everything– and yet, Xie Lian’s look of sheepish embarrassment confirmed again, he could not. Hua Cheng schooled his expression, inclining his head in something reminiscent of a bow. “You can just call me San Lang, if you’d like.”

For a split second, a flash of something sparked in Xie Lian’s eyes– it was so brief, yet so powerful, so sharp– so like recognition that Hua Cheng felt sure he’d been caught. He’d only suggested the moniker for more of his selfish reasons, but he was run through with panic as he quickly realized the hidden meaning in it– third son, as Xie Lian would remember Hong’er to be–

Hua Cheng froze, like a child with its grubby hand stuck in the sweet jar, waiting for the shoe to drop.

Blessedly, or perhaps cursedly, it never did. Whatever that light had been passed as quickly as it came, dimming to something simpler, though no less warm, as Xie Lian offered him a grateful, dimpled smile.

“Well… it’s nice to meet you, San Lang.”

Hua Cheng took in a deep breath, summoning that uncomplicated smile again. This could be okay. He hadn’t been Hong’er in twenty years, anyway– what did he care for being Hong’er now?

He could just be San Lang, if that was what Xie Lian needed.

🐾

After Hua Cheng procured the baby shampoo, Xie Lian had mixed up a soapy cocktail that he deemed suitable for their purposes and passed the kitten back over to change clothes himself, as promised– he had only gotten away with not showering to warm up because “oh, I’ll be alright– besides, I probably just ran through most of my hot water on accident anyway, haha!” Hua Cheng had politely laughed along and saved his grimace of regret for after Xie Lian had closed the bathroom door.

Judging by the frothy pot in the sink and the various grooming tools Xie Lian had laid out on a towel on the narrow counter, Hua Cheng could safely assume that bathtime was their main goal for the evening. Much to his annoyance, the kitten was clearly intelligent enough to have done the same.

“Yeeeoww!”

“Ah– hey, don’t– ah! Don’t squirm so much, you’ll feel better after you–!”

“MRRROW!”

Hua Cheng clenched his jaw and tried to take a calming breath as the little gremlin pitched a bigger fit than seemed possible for its tiny body. He could hardly believe it was the same animal that had just been happily accepting belly scritches without so much as a batted eye; now it was hissing and spitting with a vengeance, writhing violently while Hua Cheng tried to keep it contained without hurting the damn thing.

“Goddamnit– you’re fucking fine, okay? Come on, calm down and stop– ugh! Stop making me look stupid in front of gege–” he hissed at it, praying that Xie Lian’s broken bathroom fan would be loud enough to muffle his voice. The creature only hissed right back, baring a tiny pink mouth that was already missing a few of its milk teeth. It really was quite young, Hua Cheng noted through his aggravation. Xie Lian had been right– the fact that it was still alive with this much fight left in it was nothing short of a miracle.

“Hah! Oh, poor San Lang– you leave him alone, kitty!” Xie Lian’s voice sounded from over Hua Cheng’s shoulder as he returned to his side, shaking his finger at the kitten in faux-scolding. “San Lang was very, very kind to bring us home, so you ought to be nicer to him.”

Hua Cheng huffed and shot it a pointed look. “Yeah, hear that? Learn some manners, kid.”

Xie Lian laughed brightly, the sparkle in his eyes no less lovely for the faint crow’s feet that enfolded them. “Haha! He’ll have plenty of time for that as he gets bigger– but for now, let’s get you clean, little guy. I promise, you’ll be much comfier when we’re done…”

Xie Lian hadn’t needed to say much more, as the kitten was already settling back down under a light stroke of Xie Lian’s fingertip along its forehead. Hua Cheng scoffed in disbelief.

“Unbelievable. That thing was acting half rabid just a second ago– gege is a miracle worker.”

“Oh, not really– it’s more that animals are really very perceptive. If you’re nervous, then they’re nervous. If you’re calm, well.. they’re certainly more likely to be calm. Here, let me get at his scruff back there…”

Hua Cheng almost didn’t dare loosen his grip on the towel, but his trust in Xie Lian won out over caution. True to his words, Xie Lian confidently and firmly gripped the kitten by its scruff, eliciting nothing more than a small squeak of surprise as he lifted its body fully into the air. 

Hua Cheng watched in genuine amazement. “That doesn’t hurt him at all?”

Xie Lian shook his head, bringing his other hand to support the kitten’s rear as he carried it over to the sink. “Mn-mn, not at all– this is how their mothers carry them. Even if this poor thing’s mama isn’t alive anymore, he knows the feeling by instinct. Love tends to stick around that way, even after it’s gone.” 

Upon testing the temperature a final time with one pinky finger, Xie Lian lowered the kitten into the sudsy water, hushing its warbled meow with a tender shh.  

“There we go… nice and warm,” he murmured, soaking a washcloth and starting to draw it across its belly. “That’s not so bad, is it?”

Hua Cheng’s heart felt fit to burst, pushing against the confines of his chest as if raging against his own fake nonchalance. He nearly reached up to rub at it, to will it back down, though his attempts at restraint weren’t much helped by Xie Lian extending one soapy finger toward him in an adorable ‘aha!’ kind of gesture.

“Would you just give me a dab of that shampoo, please? We’ll need to give him a little soap necklace to keep any fleas from escaping.”

Hua Cheng dutifully did so, trying not to linger too long on the way the iridescent bubbles slid along Xie Lian’s fair skin. Thankfully, simply observing Xie Lian as he went about his task proved to be a good distraction. The soap necklace had been a very good idea, after all– Hua Cheng didn’t know one could see so many fleas on a black cat. The bathwater became peppered with them before long, the rest of it gone murky with the remnants of dried blood and dirt coaxed from the kitten’s fur. 

Hua Cheng was delegated to passing Xie Lian the grooming tools as needed, and Xie Lian made excellent use of them: he skillfully swapped between the tip of a washcloth to a fine-toothed comb to a soft-bristled toothbrush, making little comment except for occasional sympathetic clicks of his tongue as more and more filth was brushed into the water. The fair hands moved with sure, tender precision as the wear and tear of the outside world was washed away; Hua Cheng was utterly mesmerized by the movement, and almost didn’t notice when those hands stilled in surprise.

“Oh…” Xie Lian’s voice was suddenly shocked, then ached with sorrow as his shoulders slumped. “Oh, little guy…”

Hua Cheng’s pulse quickened with a rush of dread, despite himself. “What is it? What’s wrong with him?”

Xie Lian turned to Hua Cheng with a mournful look that was starting to brim ever so slightly. “I was hoping it was just closed because of the fleas, or there was some dirt in it or something… but, look here–”

Hua Cheng looked where he was instructed, watching with curiosity as Xie Lian quickly rinsed one thumb, then drew it over the kitten’s right eye– and then, upon seeing it stubbornly fused shut beneath a bump of dark scar tissue, a lurch of genuine sadness.

“He’s… missing his eye?” Hua Cheng asked quietly. Xie Lian’s lower lip quivered a bit before he caught it between his teeth and nodded in affirmation.

“Looks like it. Poor little honey…” he sniffled, taking up the cloth and gently rubbing at it, removing the excess dirt around the eyelid with extra care. It was all Hua Cheng could do not to run a hand down his hair and press a comforting kiss to Xie Lian’s temple, though Xie Lian was valiantly fighting back his tears to complete the bath. “I wonder how it happened.”

“Probably got in a scrap somewhere,” Hua Cheng consoled softly, half to Xie Lian and half to himself, as he felt the twinge of an old wound he’d put twenty years into forgetting. “Happens all the time with strays.” 

Indeed it did– another thing Hua Cheng knew from experience. 

After that first fateful meeting in the rain all those years ago, Xie Lian hadn’t really left Hua Cheng alone, which may have been the first shameful prayer of his that had ever come true. Xie Lian had started waiting on their street corner after school long enough to meet Hua Cheng trudging home from the opposite direction, claiming that walking home together was his favorite part of the day; he’d brought him well-packed but discreet bags of outgrown clothes, all far cries from the beat up hand-me-downs he’d inherited from his older brothers; he’d snuck him leftovers, snacks, sometimes even full meals pilfered from his family’s overly stocked kitchen. 

Xie Lian never outright said he’d noticed that Hong’er was always alone, or that he’d worn the same threadbare winter jacket every year since he was eight, or that he was thin enough to be knocked over by a strong gust of wind. He’d only seen it, and quietly chosen to act, which was more than anyone else in Hua Cheng’s life had done so far. Even when his parents forbade him from meddling, Xie Lian continued extending his hand for Hua Cheng to take– and when all those nice clothes earned him accusations of stealing, and Hong’er had barely survived what his father deemed as a suitable punishment for thieves, Xie Lian hadn’t outright said anything about that either. He’d only bit back his own tears at the sight of Hua Cheng’s bruised body and bloodied eye and pulled him gently, wordlessly by the hand to his backyard’s old treehouse to wait out the night. 

“You’re not going back there, Hong’er,” he swore with the kind of heartfelt dedication that could only come from the heart of a child. “You’re gonna be safe with me.”  

All night long, Hua Cheng had cried, truly cried; all night long, Xie Lian never let go of his hand. 

“Wow, you really are lucky, little fella… it doesn’t look to be infected at all. Thank goodness,” Xie Lian hummed, pulling Hua Cheng back to the present moment as he set aside the cloth and began one final pass for fleas. Hua Cheng eyed the kitten with a new degree of respect, despite its bad attitude.

“Mmn. Maybe someone managed to take him in for a bit, and cleaned it up before he got back out.”

Xie Lian laughed lightly. “That’s a nice thought. I’d like to believe that, but…” Frustration tiptoed back into his tone as he continued, as if reluctant to even give voice to itself. “Sometimes people are so quick to throw away things that aren’t perfect. It’s… it’s disheartening. It’s like no one wants to put any work into love anymore. They just want it to be quick and easy and without any risk at all.”

Hua Cheng noted the way Xie Lian’s voice sharpened and hands softened at once, a barely visible barrier between his emotions and actions; his heart ached anew.

“I agree,” Hua Cheng assured, daring to step close enough that their arms brushed, Hua Cheng’s ill-fitting ‘Xianle University’ hoodie to Xie Lian’s ratty, handknit sweater. Xie Lian shot him a surprised, but grateful look.

“Do you really?”

Hua Cheng nodded earnestly, beginning to feel a little swept away by Xie Lian’s closeness. From here, the puff of his own breath made Xie Lian’s drying baby hairs dance like flowerheads on a gentle wind.

“Very much. The most precious things in life are the things that you fight for.”

Xie Lian blinked, and those shy rosebuds began to uncurl in his cheeks again. “You talk as if from experience.”

Hua Cheng, so hopelessly bewitched by the bloom of that blush, could hardly have been expected to think before he spoke.

“I do,” he affirmed, with all the soulful sincerity of a vow. “A long time ago, someone once fought for me, and it saved my life. One day, I’ll return the favor. Whatever it takes.”

The promise floated incandescent in the air between them, buoyed by the delicate burble of the cooling bathwater, the steady drum of the ongoing storm outside. In the low light of the kitchen-living room-bedroom, Hua Cheng might have convinced himself Xie Lian’s faint gasp had been imagined– but then, when the shy smile playing about his lips spread wide enough to reach his eyes and those gossamer-thin wrinkles folded like the creases of a letter, Hua Cheng felt a flutter in his heart that dared him to dream.

“You’re… you’re a very good man, San Lang.” Xie Lian murmured. That flutter swept up to a violent beat, as Hua Cheng simultaneously swooned and cursed, I’m not. I’m not– you are good, and I’m not like you at all.

Oblivious to Hua Cheng’s turmoil, Xie Lian was softly continuing, “I think, whoever that person is… they’re very lucky, too. Anyone would be lucky to have the loyalty of such a compassionate man.”

Hua Cheng begged his heart to last him the night– just the night, at least, then he swore he’d get a referral to a cardiologist if his friendship with Xie Lian was to continue– and gave a shaky laugh. “Gege is such a flatterer. I can’t believe a word he says.”

“Haha!” Xie Lian cackled, tossing his head back in a motion that sent his lopsided bun flailing to one side. “Believe it or don’t, but it’s true. After all, who else could say they would step out into moving traffic in a storm to save a kitten?”

“You’re the one who saved the kitten, gege.”

An impish gleam shone in Xie Lian’s eyes when he shot a cheeky look in his direction. “True enough, but then, who’s the one who saved me? ”

Hua Cheng froze stock-still at that, heart stuttering; Xie Lian seemed to realize the gravity of what he’d said a moment too late, a similar stillness visibly washing over him as they looked at each other. They might have been content to do so all night, holding their breath over that declaration for fear of dispersing it until they were both blue in the face– had their neglected guest of honor not reminded them of its presence with a piercing, very displeased yowl.

They both startled more than could be considered normal for two grown men, the realization of which had them dissolving into breathless giggles, letting the moment pass for now.

“Haha–ha– sorry, little buddy… It’s probably gotten a bit cold in there, huh? Here, let’s get you rinsed now. Out we go…”

🐾

If the kitten’s objective was to maintain any dignity, it had decidedly failed– Xie Lian continued cossetting over its sweet potbelly and adorably resentful growls as it was rinsed under the faucet. When Xie Lian had excitedly shown Hua Cheng his very favorite part of bathtime– “The Big Squeeze!” he sang while lifting the kitten by the scruff and, true to his word, squeezing the excess water from its soggy rear–  Hua Cheng had howled with mad laughter at the sight. 

“Hahaha– gege– he – pfft – he looks so pathetic– like a drowned rat–!” Xie Lian had told him off and given him a soapy swat on the shoulder for it, and sentenced Hua Cheng to wrangling the beast for towel-dry duty as punishment.

The wee hours of the night found them sitting side by side in the living room-bedroom, chatting idly while the kitten, finally having given up the ghost and submitted to sleep, dozed on Xie Lian’s lap. The futon-bed was lumpy and wobbly beneath their combined weight, and Hua Cheng hadn’t the faintest clue what time it was. He’d removed his watch and cell phone and left them with his suit when he changed, determined not to waste a single second of this precious night on anything but Xie Lian’s company.

“Took him long enough to knock out,” Hua Cheng chuckled when a squeaky snore rose from the furball curled in the crook of Xie Lian’s knee. “Gege really is wonderful with animals– have you always worked with them?”

Xie Lian shook his head as he stroked the back of his knuckles over the kitten’s head. “No, actually– though before I wasn’t doing anything with much purpose. Just odd jobs, wherever I could get them. Nothing I was passionate about.” His soft brown eyes went even softer, drifting someplace distant, somewhere Hua Cheng couldn’t follow. That’s right– there had been so many years between their last parting and now.

Hua Cheng felt his brow knit at the thought. “Until…?”

Xie Lian gave a light chuckle. “Until I got evicted for the fifth time?” Hua Cheng’s look of shocked dismay seemed to amuse him greatly, and he stifled his laugh behind his free hand. “Haha– oh, don’t look so upset. It was no big deal, and it was a long time ago now. And really, it was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Xie Lian began scratching the kitten behind the ear with one finger, smiling affectionately when a warbly purr began to rumble from it while he explained.

“For a while, I could only afford to rent, and at all those old apartments, I was the local crazy guy who fed all the strays. They were all so sweet once they warmed up to me, and many of them ended up finding homes once they’d learned to trust humans more– but it turns out most building managers don’t like it when one of their tenants is a wild animal magnet. Some nonsense about them all being filthy or sick. The last man I rented from even set out hunting traps for the poor things,” Xie Lian lamented with a bitter frown. “And when he found out I’d been dismantling them and salvaging the parts, he, uh… well. He advised me to make a swift exit before he sued for property damage, and I took him up on the offer.”

Hua Cheng’s chest was aching, deep regretful pangs that rang through him like a church bell. “You were on the street, then?”

Xie Lian nodded, taking a deep, measured breath. “For a time. Lucky for me, I got booted in spring, so I didn’t have to worry about staying warm,” he mused, his tone honest and plain. “And turns out when you don’t have to pay for housing and you convince your boss to let you sleep in the supply closet, it’s very easy to save up money! By the time fall rolled around, I had enough to make an initial payment here. It may be kind of beat up and cramped– but it’s all mine.”

Xie Lian’s wistful smile brightened to something easy and grateful as he looked around the house, then impulsively stretched one pointer finger up to give a playful poke to one end of the driftwood chandelier; the movement suddenly gave the lighting an effect of a dim, amber-colored disco ball, swaying in idle paths over the entire home. Hua Cheng swallowed his protests, feeling genuinely soothed by watching the little pinpoints of light as they tracked over the multi-colored walls, the dark, rain-streaked windows.

“The rest of it all just… happened, really. With no one to stop me from feeding the animals, I was able to care for them as much as I wanted. After I earned their trust, I could get them in a crate, bring them downtown, and before long, I was Puqi Village Animal Rescue’s most frequent flyer,” Xie Lian announced proudly. “Eventually, I was there so often that the manager just offered me a position. I’d have been a fool to refuse it.”

Hua Cheng had been about to reply, some comment on how they were lucky to have Xie Lian (all while making a mental note to have Yin Yu look into whether that particular animal shelter would like to have a charity gala organized for them in the near future) when a series of drowsy chirps piped up from the furball below. The pair’s gazes dropped, watching as the kitten stirred suddenly and rose to standing on its tiny paws with an arching stretch so powerful that its entire body quivered– and then, with little more fanfare than a few doddered steps along the length of the futon and the necessary clambering up onto his knee, concluded to plop down right on Hua Cheng’s lap.

Thoroughly stunned, at first Hua Cheng could only stare– you’ve got to be kidding. After spending the majority of the night acting like it would love nothing more than to take his hand off, now it had simply decided that Hua Cheng was bed??

Hua Cheng raised a cautious hand and gave the fuzzy rear a nudge; he received only a half-asleep growl in response, and snorted derisively. “What, you can’t even be nice in your sleep? Little goblin.”

In his periphery, he had seen Xie Lian’s hands coming to clasp over his mouth, visibly delighted. Now, those hands barely suppressed a giggle of endearment, and soon parted to reveal Xie Lian’s brilliant grin.

“Well, I hate to break it to you, San Lang– but you can’t move now.”

Hua Cheng had to laugh along at that, despite himself. “Oh, no?”

Xie Lian beamed in reply, shaking his head decidedly. “Nope. Looks like you’ll just have to stay here forever.”

Oh, and the hush of the rain on the roof, and the light still swaying, and Xie Lian’s precious smile– hell, even the downy-soft bundle at his knee, warm and rumbling with a sleepy purr– all of it had thoroughly weakened Hua Cheng’s resolve.

“Gege shouldn’t say things like that– I might just believe him.”

As before, the words danced in the space between the two of them, not unlike the slowing lights overhead. They had been phrased as a good-natured jibe, just teasing enough to be disregarded, if Xie Lian wished. Even so, Hua Cheng, however his hands trembled, did not rush to take them back– and Xie Lian, however deep he blushed, did not wave them away.

PING!

A pointed but somewhat muffled chime sounded from the general direction of the bathroom– considering Xie Lian’s own outdated device, it could only be Hua Cheng’s cell phone. He scowled in its direction. He’d put the damn thing on Do Not Disturb for a reason. God, if this was Yin Yu texting him past the silenced notifications, he’d better have a phenomenal, life-ending reason…

“Oh–! Well, I suppose that’s no surprise…”

Hua Cheng snapped out of his preemptive irritation to see Xie Lian’s face illuminated by the smartphone screen, having gone to helpfully retrieve it. Something on it, presumably the notification that they’d just heard, had his eyebrows raised in inquiry.

“Severe Weather Alert. Due to inclement weather, precipitation, heavy winds, yada yada, yes, we know…” Xie Lian read aloud, scrolling down the screen (and seeming to forget that it wasn’t even his phone, to Hua Cheng’s amusement). “Travel is discouraged… motorists are advised to refrain from traveling until further notice.”

Their eyes met with a shared glint of excitement that neither bothered to disguise; Xie Lian’s spread into a pleased smile as he waggled the phone in the air.

“Well… I guess you don’t have to take my word for it. And your clothes are still wet, so…” Xie Lian suddenly seemed to remember that he was holding Hua Cheng’s phone, and offered it back with a shy nibble on his bottom lip. “Um– why don’t you stay here for the night?”

Hua Cheng took the phone, and promptly set it face down on the floor without breaking Xie Lian’s gaze. “If gege insists.”

🐾

Some hours later (two? Three? Again, Hua Cheng was wholeheartedly intent against breaking the spell of the night by talking some nonsense he didn’t mean about ‘how late it had gotten,’) the pair were still side by side on the futon, kept plenty cozy in the hazy glow of the TV light. Xie Lian had lowered the futon to the bed position as they settled down for the evening, helpfully piling up a comical array of throw pillows to comfortably prop themselves against in the meantime; at one point, he’d skirted dangerously close to an offer to sleep on the floor while his guest took the bed, so naturally, Hua Cheng had leaped to praise Xie Lian’s thriftiness before he’d gotten the chance to even say it.

Xie Lian had also wrestled with the TV’s antenna before giving up on getting anything via cable in this weather, instead poking through his collection of VHS tapes, holding their options up for approval from where Hua Cheng was still trapped beneath the sleeping kitten. Hua Cheng, feeling more at ease than he had in years, perhaps in his whole life, had gleefully agreed to Xie Lian’s recommendation, some crunchy old animated film he didn’t recognize that Xie Lian had gotten from a bargain bin somewhere.

The movie didn’t really matter anyway, not so much as the continued patter of the rain outside, paired with the buzz of the VCR machine humming to life, the fuzzy static of the screen that he could feel even from this distance. It swaddled him in nostalgia for a childhood he hadn’t truly experienced, a home he didn’t really know. Well– not outside knowing Xie Lian, at least.

Xie Lian… who was now dozing sweetly against his shoulder. Oh, Xie Lian, whose voice had gone quiet and mumbled as they ignored the movie in favor of talking deep into the night. Hua Cheng’s work, Xie Lian’s favorite recipes, Hua Cheng’s go-to coffee order, Xie Lian’s proudest thrift finds… Despite the mundanity of the conversation, there had been a gentle undercurrent to it, winding in a lazy river toward… something, something more mature than their past friendship, and stronger than a chance meeting or a stranger’s passing kindness.

Hua Cheng smiled tenderly down at the crown of Xie Lian’s head, and prayed that this time, it could last. This time, he had the power to keep their paths from parting again. The money, the power, the stupid prestige– what was all of it for, if not this?

The smile soured a bit, Hua Cheng’s mind drawn to the new disparities between them for the umpteenth time that night. True, Xie Lian had clearly fallen from some great heights, and his path here had not been an easy one. But here he was, persisting in spite of it all. What right had Hua Cheng to pity him? Even this house spoke clearly for itself–  a feeling of home emanated from every nook and cranny, a sense that every square inch of the house was deeply loved and appreciated. Hua Cheng felt a twinge of guilt to consider it– he could hardly say the same for himself, the wide, glamorous expanse of his own penthouse suite polished and decorated to cold perfection, then largely ignored day in and day out.

The dappled light overhead softened the lines of Xie Lian’s sleeping face, blurred the wrinkles and unkempt hair– and Hua Cheng momentarily saw a flicker of Xie Lian’s younger self in it, simply appearing there before him the way old, missing faces arise in a dream. The feeling compounded as Hua Cheng gazed upon him, more and more of the surrounding room becoming dreamlike, too: the driftwood above so like that wooden ceiling strung with old globe lights, half of them burnt out from age; the lumpy futon beneath them so like a pair of sleeping bags zipped into a makeshift mattress…

That had been the final time Hua Cheng had seen Xie Lian, back then. It was late summer, just a few months after Hua Cheng had turned twelve, and Xie Lian had been facing the possibility of an uprooted life before he even began his first year of high school. There had been a storm that night, too, but at this point of the memory, it had already passed. Hua Cheng knew this because Xie Lian had successfully returned to the treehouse with all the old camping gear he’d been gifted for some past birthday, which had been promptly moved to the basement to rot since his parents never had enough time to go camping anyway. He’d stolen across the dewy yard, bogged down by the sleeping bags and a lantern with a squeaky handle, and Hong’er had watched him, huddled against the frame of the treehouse’s entryway– that was as much as he dared to show himself, in case his father was still out looking.

More had occurred between that fragment and the next, though the details were murky; the way any memory paled and faded in places over time was entirely natural, after all. Even so, Hua Cheng would always hate himself vehemently for it. The best he could scrape together was a small flash forward in time: now, Xie Lian was putting away the first aid kit he’d taken to keeping in the treehouse and saying that he’d keep watch, so that Hong’er could rest. The long cut along Hong’er’s right eye was throbbing from the residual antiseptic, even under the bandage Xie Lian had applied. At that rate, it was hit so frequently that any time dedicated to healing was in vain; it would only be reopened the next time he was home, and his father was in one of his moods.

The words always came in muffled when Hua Cheng tried to replay this night, like they were playing through an old radio. Even so, he could hear that persistent kindness in Xie Lian’s voice, forever ageless to him: “You can camp up here as long as you need, okay? I’ll cover for you. Mom and Dad are so busy with the move and all the stupid campaign stuff that they hardly even go outside anymore, so–”

“What if…” Hong’er’s voice always came in crackly, wheedling, sounding as much the hunted, injured animal as he felt at the time. Xie Lian turned to face him in the memory anyway. “What if I can’t get out? What if I’m not strong enough… What if– hic– what if I’m never strong enough…” His body shook violently then, with bitterness as much as strange relief. He had only ever been able to cry freely in front of Xie Lian.

Hua Cheng’s memory skipped again, perhaps as a kindness to him– and now, Xie Lian was holding him, rubbing his back, comforting him in a voice sure and true enough to cut through the fog of the dream: “Of course you are. You are strong enough, and smart enough, and good enough for that and more. You will be even more amazing one day, Hong’er– I believe in you.”

Hua Cheng’s heart swelled to remember it, even as his face twisted in a guilty grimace. All that work, all this power and influence– and what did he have to show for it, really? All that care and hope that Xie Lian had instilled in him– and what had Hua Cheng done with it? What did he have of any true value– a heart preserved in promise for a person he never thought he’d see again, only for it to go hard as stone in the process?

Did Hua Cheng deserve Xie Lian’s warmth, Xie Lian’s closeness now?

Tucked under Hua Cheng’s chin like a pearl hidden beneath a barnacled, ugly shell, Xie Lian’s breath was coming in sleepy little puffs against Hua Cheng’s neck– and his cheek was squished into an unflattering shape, and his long lashes fluttered over those honey-brown eyes as he dreamed, and god, he was a hundred times as beautiful as Hua Cheng remembered. Whether or not Hua Cheng deserved it, he was here. They were both here, together again against all odds, bedraggled and covered in drying soapy water and wisps of black, scraggly cat hair, and Hua Cheng was more undone and unpolished than he had been in twenty years– and suddenly, for all his hard-won power and status, Hua Cheng felt no different than the scrawny, feral stray he had once been. 

He had thought that part of him so deeply buried that he could never encounter it again; clearly, he’d been dead wrong.

Hua Cheng fought against a full-body shudder and forced himself to breathe deep. Suddenly, he was too small, too violent for the world he was in; suddenly, there it was: all that anger, the bitterness, the fear– all that grief– all of it had come hurtling back in vicious, heartrending clarity.

But most surprising of all, even in the face of the boy he’d spent two decades rejecting… Hua Cheng could almost forgive him. Weak, furious, and powerless he may have been– but more than that, he had been in love. Terribly and hopelessly in love with the only one who had ever believed in him.

In that way, Hua Cheng had never and would never change.

“Mm… Oh… Did I fall asleep?”

Hua Cheng blinked rapidly, surging back into the present just in time to see Xie Lian stirring on his shoulder, blearily rubbing his eyes as the credits rolled. Hua Cheng swallowed hard and tried to calm his racing, aching heart.

“Hah– you did, but don’t worry. If gege is comfortable, so am I,” he assured. Xie Lian gave a soft hum as his honeyed eyes slowly came back into focus, though Hua Cheng noticed that he neglected to remove his head from its perch.

“Very comfortable,” he mumbled. “It’s way past my usual bedtime, so I’m sorry I’m no fun.”

“Not at all,” Hua Cheng chuckled quietly. “This is the most fun I’ve had in ages. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a slumber party.”

Xie Lian’s laugh came tumbling out of him, drowsy and unguarded.

“Haha… me too. It’s nice…” Xie Lian’s head weighed even more on Hua Cheng’s shoulder as he settled further into him. Hua Cheng might have dared to call it ‘snuggling’ and struggled to conceal his subsequent panic– had Xie Lian not accomplished that perfectly on his own with what he said next.

“Ahh…” he sighed, easy and content. “This feels just like old times, doesn’t it?”

Hua Cheng very well could have lost his only remaining eye with how wide it flew open, his whole body overtaken with the feeling of being plunged into icy water. The entire world had stopped spinning on its axis for all he could tell; even the tenacious storm outside seemed to go silent for the split second of shell-shocked realization.

“G-gege… you…” Hua Cheng sounded distant, far-off to himself; he could barely form the words without sputtering like a fool. “You… knew?”

Xie Lian lifted his head at that, fixing Hua Cheng with an innocent look, as though he hadn’t just stopped Hua Cheng’s heart with a single comment. “Knew that you were Hong’er? Of course I did– how could I not recognize you?”

Hua Cheng could only stare, dumbfounded, as Xie Lian continued, “Granted, you’re a great deal taller now, and… ahem … stronger, too…” Xie Lian’s eyes had lingered shyly on the firm muscle of Hua Cheng’s bicep, before he blushed deeply and coughed lightly behind his fist, and oh god, Hua Cheng had to hold onto his soul with an iron grip to keep from passing beyond the veil right then and there–

“But you’re still the same to me,” Xie Lian concluded, gathering himself enough to grace Hua Cheng with another affectionate, effortless smile. Effortless, as the most miraculous things with Xie Lian always were. “I could never forget you.”

Still reeling with surprise, Hua Cheng’s eye was beginning to burn with powerful emotion, and he was praying it wouldn’t show in the dim light; his prayers must have been heard, though only to a certain degree, because Xie Lian plopped his head right back down with a huff. 

“Besides– the two of you look so alike, I could pin you for brothers.”

Hua Cheng let free a shaky laugh despite himself, and looked down at the scraggly, one-eyed kitten still dead asleep on his lap, likely worn out from all its hard work terrorizing him earlier. Well. Hua Cheng supposed he could see the resemblance.

Xie Lian shifted against him and snuggled (!) fully into his shoulder, now even leaning a bit toward the crook of his neck (!!) as he fondly patted Hua Cheng’s chest (!!!) with one hand and heaved a deep yawn.

“Aah-nn… Good night then, San Lang… see you in the morning,” he sighed, the sleep in his voice winning out again. “Make sure to think about what you want for breakfast, alright?”

Hua Cheng still couldn’t speak just yet; however, as was evidenced by the snuffly snore that rose from his shoulder, Xie Lian was dozing even before Hua Cheng could gather his wits enough to answer. A wobbly smile spread across his lips– he didn’t suppose it mattered. Come morning, and the next, and the next and next and next, Hua Cheng would be here, and that would be answer enough.

Wide awake despite the utter whiplash of the last twenty-four hours, Hua Cheng was content to simply watch Xie Lian sleep a while, his gaze tracing the delicate path on his head where the chestnut hair parted. He distantly dreamed of walking it like one would a forest for a moment or two, before blinking away the brimming tears in his eye and looking out the darkened windows. It was still coming down hard outside, though by now he’d already grown so accustomed to the white noise that it was less of a pounding and more of a soothing rumble. Occasionally, a far off traffic light painted the raindrops on the glass red, then green, then yellow, then red again, turning water to precious gems before his eye. Hua Cheng smiled to himself. Funny. He’d never noticed that about the rain before, even in all his years of appreciation. And now, it was the reason he was sitting on a lumpy futon couch-bed in a matchbox home, in too-small pajamas, with a purring kitten on his knee and the love of his life by his side. 

Although, maybe he should have already known. Maybe it hadn’t really been about the swift, righteous sword of justice, after all— rather, the sudden, quiet arrival of something beautiful. Something worth hoping for.

Hua Cheng had thought after all this time, all this scraping and working and climbing, that he knew all there was to know about this world. When had it become so miraculous– so new?

A stolen glance down to the slumbering man tucked into his side was enough to give Hua Cheng a little clue as to that answer; smiling, he eased one hand to the floor to retrieve his phone, thankfully still with enough battery power to send a quick message.

Hua Cheng [02:55]: cover for me tomorrow. im going to be busy

[Yin Yu is typing…]

Yin Yu [02:56]: May I ask, doing what, sir?

Hua Cheng [02:56]: bringing a cat to the vet. ill need the whole day. probably friday too

[Yin Yu is typing…]

[Yin Yu is typing…]

Yin Yu [02.59]: I didn’t realize you had a cat, sir.

Hua Cheng shot a look at the raggedy, black furball with a begrudging kind of endearment. Even though it was a fickle little devil, he supposed he technically owed it quite a bit for bringing Xie Lian back to him. 

He paused– then tentatively stroked the tip of one finger along the velvety spot between the kitten’s ears. The kitten stirred, blinked one narrowed eye up at him– and rolled to expose its belly with a sleepy purr.

On his shoulder, Hua Cheng swore he heard Xie Lian hum happily in his sleep.

Hua Cheng [03:00]: i do now

🐾