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“How would you feel about some company, Da-ge?” Xichen asks, and watches as Mingjue stills, and then turns with the barest curve of a smile to his lips.
“Xichen,” he greets. His eyes flicker over Xichen, a quick scan, before meeting his eyes. “You finished already?”
“Of course.” It’s their usual song and dance. It’s a small museum, and Xichen is grateful for it. He can have a much more personal experience with the visitors, and most of them are deeply interested in the region’s culture. Sure, they could go one city over and experience a much more vast experience, but here…
Xichen has each musical instrument memorized. Wangji and he are actually focused on recreating their sounds with modern versions of these ancient instruments, and about half of them have recordings for the visitors to enjoy. He knows every pottery location by heart, each dig carefully noted on a map hanging in the section, and Wei Wuxian is going to run a workshop in two weeks teaching anyone who signs up on the best way to weave one of their baskets, an ancient thing that is half-rotten away but still a beautiful sight with its faded colors. Huaisang hopes to do a fan-painting class if that goes over well enough – or rather, Mingjue is making Huaisang do something, and that’s what is most his speed – and Mingjue is working on making a replica of their largest sword (blacksmithing classes fill up shockingly quickly, so it’s taking some time).
In short, it is a lovely family-run operation that is one of the few things Xichen can thank his Father for (one of the others, of course, being Wangji).
Mingjue offers his arm and Xichen tucks himself into the crook of it, leaning against his husband as they walk. Budgeting for more technological defense has been a thought, but it’s not as though anything they have here is particularly valuable monetarily. Owning the longest handwoven scarf in the world is their only real claim-to-fame, and even that’s not exactly going to fetch any money on the marketplace.
“Anything fun happen today?” Xichen asks, as Mingjue sweeps his flashlight over the instrument room, looking for anything visitors may have dropped.
“Kid almost yanked a sword off the wall,” he huffs. “Why don’t parents ever supervise their brats?”
Xichen blinks rapidly, looking at Mingjue as if staring hard enough will change the words coming out of his mouth, and frowns. “...When was this? Where was I? Nothing was hurt? Er- no one?” Yes, he should be more worried about the child than one of their swords from 200 AD, but…!
“You had that community center coming through,” Mingjue reminds him. “But don’t worry. Sword wasn’t hurt and neither was the kid, though you’d think I stabbed him the way his parents glared at me.”
They continue into the pottery area, locking the door behind them, and Xichen shakes his head slowly. “I don’t understand that either. When we were kids, Wangji and I-”
Mingjue’s flashlight illuminates an empty stand, and both of them freeze. “Xichen. There’s supposed to be something there, right?”
Of course there is. Their stuff almost never goes on tours. “...Yes,” he says slowly, trying to swallow and finding his throat far too dry. “That is a 12th century jade hairpin. Replica.” Mingjue’s shoulders sag in relief at that, but Xichen can’t pull his eyes away. “...It was here right before I came to find you. I’m positive.”
His meaning is caught immediately, and Mingjue narrows his eyes. “The culprit’s still here,” he says. “Call the police?”
“No.” Neither of them likes the cops at the best of times, and he doesn’t trust them to not make this go deeply, deeply south. The doors are all locked up, so… “We should check the windows.”
Mingjue nods. “You check the windows, see if any are open. I’ll check the bathrooms in case they’re hiding out.” It would be a good place to hide – aside from a cursory skim, no one would’ve really checked them. Because again… no one could really earn anything from selling stuff here.
But they could cause a lot of intellectual damage if they linger here and decide to be destructive.
Just thinking about it is a terrifying notion for Xichen. With a quick squeeze to Mingjue’s hand, the two take off in different directions. Xichen carefully tests all the windows. Just because they’re closed doesn’t mean that the thief couldn’t have closed them behind themself – he wishes briefly that he had windows that didn’t open at all (which would be hell in the summer, so he doesn’t really want that) but dutifully checks them all.
He’s above to move to the next room when he hears yelling. Not Mingjue – that would be alarming. But… what sounds like a kid…?
Mingjue’s dragging a kid who probably isn’t even a teenager out of the bathroom when Xichen arrives. He’s got the kids wrists in one hand, and even though the kid is kicking and squirming and trying to kick Mingjue in the shin or crotch, Mingjue’s doing fine avoiding that.
In his other hand is the jade hairpin, and Xichen plucks it from his fingers with a sigh of relief so Mingjue can use two hands to subdue the kid, who finally stops kicking and glares at them sullenly. “You have shitty security,” they say. “I grabbed that thing so easy.”
Xichen is too relieved that it’s just a disobedient kid to be particularly mad. It could have been vandals or someone out to ruin things – but it’s just a kid who wanted to make a quick buck. Unfortunately… “It’s a replica,” he says, “That’s why.”
The kid blinks and then scowls. “Seriously? What the fuck?”
Mingjue gives him a little shake. “Be glad it’s not real, or you would be in so much trouble, brat.” He shakes his head. “Come on. Let’s go report to your parents.”
“No way. You don’t know who the hell I am, and I’m not telling.”
There’s only one school in town – while Xichen gets visitors from all over, he would be rather surprised if he got a random child thief from out of town – and the principal… happens to be his uncle. He’s heard stories. “Xue Yang?” he asks, and the kid stares again before grinning.
“My reputation precedes me.” He seems too happy to be recognized, given… everything he just said before. Xichen’s not sure how to process the way he swings back and forth.
Mingjue just shakes him again. “I’m sure your principal will know your address,” he says, and glances to Xichen. “Can you handle shutting down here alone?”
“Of course,” Xichen says easily, and he leans in to give Mingjue a quick kiss, ignoring the gagging noises coming from Xue Yang. He watches as Mingjue practically drags the protesting kid out the door, locking the door behind them, and the museum falls into blissful silence. He very carefully turns over the hairpin in his hands. The replica, huh?
It’s a good thing Xue Yang’s unable to recognize real jade.
Xichen resolves to get a more robust security system, and turns to go put the hairpin back where it belongs.