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“Did you know banana’s technically a type of berry?”
“We don’t have bananas. We have pineapple tarts, though.” Rin offered Kitay a jar. “Want one? My biaoge made them.”
Chaghan reached out to grab the tarts. If he had to be stuck listening to the five year olds chatter away, it was the least he owed himself.
“My mother made pineapple tarts and they have cheese on top,” Nezha pipped up. Where did he come from? “They’re better. Want some?”
Rin glared at him. “My biaoge’s huáng lí tǎ is better than yours!”
Chaghan was fairly certain Nezha had tried to befriend Rin, but went about it the wrong way. That was not his problem. In fact, it was his only source of entertainment here.
His entire ordeal had started when Altan’s family had extended an invitation to pay them a visit on the first day of the Lunar New Year. In theory, this wouldn’t be too bad of a thing, since he had previously met Altan’s family multiple times (albeit a little disastrously). Besides, he wouldn’t go when the house would be rife with visitors. Chaghan wanted to pop after dinner and leave, but Altan insisted on staying for the fireworks, and who could say no to that stupid Altan Trengsin smile? Not Chaghan, certainly.
But then Qara had some bird event she was going to go for. And then, halfway through his visit, he found out the Yins showed up.
To make matters worse, he showed up too early. The Yins and Chens were the last visitors, and they haven’t yet left. He didn’t really want to introduce himself, either. Since he had no ties to them, he just told Altan he’d look after Rin and vanished up here, and fifteen minutes in, started to regret his life choices.
So somehow, despite only visiting a family for his boyfriend, he was stuck under the same roof with the rich people he always prayed religiously for downfalls on, and three of his students.
The worst part was realising the stupid Yin brat had another younger brother. How many kids did this family want? Thankfully, most of them were off with his parents; only Nezha had wandered over to Rin and Kitay in an attempt to befriend them.
The guests were invited to some sort of house tour Su Daji and Yin Riga were leading. On paper, it was supposed to be a gracious, polite act, showing them their living quarters. On the other hand, it didn’t take a genius to know there was some sort of power play involved. Something about showing off who had the nicer multi-story house.
Thus opting to stay here. At least he handled the kids daily and knew how to shut them down. He didn’t want to play babysitter to those proud peacocks masked as adults.
“They’re not! Mama’s has cheese on it! Yours doesn’t!” Nezha insisted. “Take one.”
“No!” Rin snapped, clutching Altan’s baked goods even tighter. “Don’t say that!”
To his credit, Kitay, who Chaghan has seen single handedly devour a pack of cheese cubes an hour before, turned his nose up and refused when Nezha weakly tried to offer him one as well.
Nezha turned to face Chaghan, face wilted, and timidly extended the jar of his mother’s pineapple tarts to him.
Chaghan shrugged. He was under no obligation to take sides in this petty war. A good pineapple tart meant a good pineapple tart. He took one and ate it.
Though by the glare Rin sent him, it meant something akin to utter betrayal.
At last, Altan strolled through the door with Kitay’s older sister, red packets in his hands. “There you are, Nezha. I haven’t given you your hóngbāo yet.”
Nezha brightened at the prospect of getting more red packets, and then hesitantly glanced towards a still fuming Rin, angrily shoving Altan’s pineapple tarts into her mouth and only offering them to Kitay.
Despite being in a high collared attire which bore the telltale marks of expert hands working at the embroidery, Altan looked unfazed, the red still contrasting nicely with his dark skin. His hair was tied back into a low ponytail, revealing the gleam of sweat on the curve of his neck.
Altan Trengsin had always refused to be simply decent at things, no. He had to excel, and his appearance was no exception.
“Got into another fight again?” Altan asked Nezha gently, kneeling to reach eye level with the kid. Nezha started to nod, paused, shook his head, then stopped briefly, like he was contemplating what to classify that disastrous interaction as.
Behind him, Kitay’s older sister gave Chaghan an amused glance, like she wanted to know what it was. Chaghan shrugged. He made himself suffer through talking with his students to prevent further socialisation with rich people. She scrutinized him, the look on her face not really offended, more towards curiosity.
He had seen her a couple times when she picked up Kitay. There was no shortage of love from her when it came to her little brother.
“Don’t worry, yeah? I’ll talk to her. In the meantime…” Altan, still talking to Nezha, handed him the hóngbāo. “Kuài gāo zhǎng dà.”
Grow up tall and strong soon. Nezha was supposed to recite a couple of well wishes before Altan gave him the red packet and wished him well back, but Chaghan supposed he foregone the part in the beginning because he caught his misery.
“Dìdì, we have to leave soon,” Kitay’s older sister called.
“What? No!”
Chaghan had to look away to prevent himself from snorting at Kitay’s look of abject horror, like leaving was the unthinkable.
“Kitay, c’mon…”
When Kitay’s sister had finally managed to wrestle him away, Rin looked so crestfallen she barely cared about the Yins leaving. This, in turn, made Nezha plenty upset, but Chaghan wasn’t too bothered about that. The Yins could be knocked down a few pegs.
“C’mon, kid,” Altan said soothingly to Rin, who shook her head at his offer of pineapple tarts he made. Jokes on her. Chaghan reached out and popped another one into his mouth. “Firecrackers are awaiting us.”
“Sparklers?” Rin asked in a tiny voice. Chaghan prayed to the gods she didn’t start bawling. He did not want to deal with that.
“Your mama’s already gotten them out,” Altan urged her to her feet. “Race you there?”
Whatever magic Altan wove from thin air, it worked. Rin brightened and clambered after him. Chaghan followed the both of them from a distance, because he did not want to suffer the indignity of running.
They made it out of the house, where the others were. The others were already gathered outside, sorting through a huge pile of fireworks. Chaghan did not want to think of the money that went into this alone. It was probably his monthly salary at the kindergarten.
“Mai’rinnen!” Hanelai extended an unlit sparkler to her daughter, a lighter in her other hand. “Shall we?”
“Or we can play with this,” Ziya tittered, waving another lighter, his white hair billowing dangerously close to the open flame he sparked. Chaghan still couldn’t believe this man was a father. On second thought… he considered his daughter. Yes, he could. “Look, the flame changes colour.”
“Jiang Ziya–!”
Now that someone else took over babysitting Rin, Altan came to a pause at Chaghan’s side.
“Are you sure I can still stay?” Chaghan murmured. Besides, he should check on Qara, though she was likely still at friends’ houses or retired into her bed. She gave strict instructions on not wanting to see him until at least nine. “It’s not too late if you change your mind.”
Altan waved it off, tugging Chaghan closer to him, until their faces were inches away. “You feel like going yet?”
“Well–” Even forcing a lie out of his mouth felt impossible with Altan’s gaze pinned on him. He could be drunk on that forever. Night was falling fast, but the dark couldn’t steal any of his beauty and hide it in the corners. All its efforts only served to amplify it further.
Chaghan’s silence was answer enough.
“Then don’t.” His low voice sent vibrations travelling throughout Chaghan’s body, until it must have reached the ground and sent the earth trembling, because why else did his knees feel weak enough to risk buckling? His breathing hitched.
You have shaken my world completely with your mere presence, he thought. Did you know that? Did you know that you rewrote everything I thought about love with each word, each action you take?
Maybe Altan managed to read his mind as he searched his eyes, because he smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead before he pulled away, taking the blissful warmth with him.
Chaghan might have done something stupid, like pull him back or demanded he return to where he had been moments before, when Rin stomped up to them, demanding her biaoge play sparklers with her.
He had never been so grateful and so hateful of that damn kid.
Altan looked at him, mirth twinkling in his eyes, and suddenly he didn’t mind not getting his way if he got to see Altan that exultant.
“Have you ever played with sparklers?”
Chaghan shook his head. He and Qara didn’t have the luxury of that growing up, and besides, when they really did, he was better off watching it, fascinated by the way sparks exploded, like a zing of electricity had given the light an exhilarating feel.
Altan grinned. “I’ll introduce you, then. Watch.”
As soon as the first sparkler in his hands went aflame, the sparks never died — he always made sure to light a new sparkler with his current one before it went out. But that wasn’t the impressive part.
Altan could twist the ends of sparklers together so it would be a long sparkler where the ends lit up. He’d flip it around effortlessly, never getting injured, or if he did, he never gave any sign of it. He’d combine sparklers so he was holding multiple of the same contraptions, balancing it with a slight twitch of his fingers, and never once seemed bothered by the proximity of the sparks.
He could light three points of a sparkler on fire so it’d burn out thrice as fast, but not before he spun it so fast golden circles were still imbued in Chaghan’s vision.
Most of all, the golden hue from the sparklers gave Altan a glow, illuminating his features and the maddening, confident smirk he wore — the look of someone who knew what effect those actions would bring and wanted to watch it himself.
“Getting better with each year, I see,” a masculine voice called out. “Will we need to pay you soon?”
Sitting a little ways from them, lounging on a lawn chair, was Yin Riga, next to Su Daji. Chaghan tensed briefly. It didn’t matter if they were next to boxes of explosives — they were the most dangerous beings around. He had barely seen them when he entered the house, but he knew they had known of his presence as soon as he stepped foot in their home. Like everyone else, they had donned their festive wear, but it only served to sharpen their beauty, like it was merely another polished weapon in their arsenal.
Altan shook his head. “Hóngbāos will do just fine, shushu.”
“But married couples should do the giving, my dear,” Daji intoned, fanning herself with her feathered fan.
All of a sudden, Chaghan understood why Altan had always shaken his head whenever he mentioned Su Daji. He might’ve found the sight of Altan blushing adorable, if his own face didn’t turn blazing red at the implication.
“We aren’t married yet,” Altan said patiently, tone steady, but it was hard to miss how Daji had narrowed her eyes and scrutinized him the way a predator would study its prey.
“You should, qīn ài de.” Daji purred. “I haven’t been to a wedding in ages.” She glanced at Riga. “Have you?”
“Can’t say I have,” Riga shrugged.
“Enough, the both of you, stop terrorizing my nephew and his boyfriend.” Hanelai gave them a pointed glance. “We’re here to fàng biān pào, not to be menaces.”
Just as Chaghan foolishly thought he was let off the hook, she turned to them. “That being said, feel free to hold your wedding whenever.”
Chaghan was going to die. Not a very auspicious beginning to the Lunar New Year.
“Biaoge! Biaoge! How did you do that trick?” Rin demanded, trying to light another sparkler to keep it going.
Saved by the demon. He never thought he’d be grateful to that feral gremlin.
Altan let Rin run to his arms, effortlessly taking the sparklers away so it wouldn’t harm either of them as he hoisted her. “I’ll teach you when you can keep fifteen sparklers going.”
“I can keep seven!” Rin squawked indignantly. “I can learn half of it!”
Chaghan snorted. Ziya pointed two fingers at his eyes and then levelled them at him threateningly.
“You’ll learn someday,” Altan tickled her. “In the meantime, there are more fireworks to light up.”
They started with something Altan called “dinosaur eggs”. It didn’t resemble fossils or anything, but they were little balls wrapped in aluminium foil. When Rin lit up the wick, she had seconds to hurl the explosive a little ways from her before it set off in a series of miniature explosions.
“Is the smell bothering you?” Hanelai stepped up to Chaghan’s side.
Guess he didn’t wrinkle his nose subtle enough. How did they get used to it anyway? “I’m not a big fan of smoke.”
“The Trengsins always did have an affinity for all things fiery.” Hanelai laughed, the fine wrinkles in the corner of her eyes crinkling with the movement. “Altan found ways to play tricks with it when he was little. You’ll get used to it.”
In the distance, Altan was busy lighting two, three of those eggs at once, to the delighted squeals of Rin when the explosions were twice as big as usual.
When Rin got to light them, however, it wasn’t with a lighter that emitted that colour changing flame her father was so proud of, but with an incense stick.
A slow clap gave way to a deep, booming voice. “Come on, aren’t there other fireworks to be set off?”
“Relax, Riga,” Ziya mused. “See how Little Mai’rinnen is enjoying this? Let her have fun.”
“You just want to teach her how to commit arson,” Hanelai grumbled. “My daughter! Please! At least Altan knows how to do it legally.”
Altan knew how to what? Chaghan decided that was a question for another time.
A shriek. Chaghan looked up just in time to see Rin darting off, Altan on her heels, seconds before whatever they had set on fire erupted into a fountain of golden and silver droplets, an entrancing shower that lasted a minute before it died down.
“That’s it?” Su Daji frowned. “I thought we had better money than this.”
“Ironically it's called the money tree,” Altan called back. “The fireworks, I meant.”
Rin had made her way to where the shower had been, squinting at it inquisitively, before an impending noise generated — the same one that followed the fireworks.
Altan snatched her back just in time for the shower to return twice as large, this time accompanied by the whirr and bangs of more explosions.
“Good enough for you?” Hanelai asked good-naturedly, but not enough to hide the undertone of sass.
Daji smiled back. “Not enough for Mai’rinnen, it seems.”
Rin had taken to lobbying more of those dinosaur eggs at the fireworks for a more spectacular show. Chaghan wasn’t too sure if hurling more explosives at firecrackers was a tradition here, but Hanelai had only shaken her head, so it didn’t seem out of the ordinary.
“Mai’rinnen, dear, guess what I found!” Ziya trilled, waving a bag of something in his hands. If they distracted that hellion from more explosives, good, but was it really if it was Ziya offering them?
Chaghan didn’t recognise whatever Rin’s father was holding, but she clearly did. “Shā pào!” She whooped.
Ziya handed a handful to everyone, but when he came to a pause in front of Chaghan, he didn’t relinquish them.
“None for you, boring chicken,” he turned his nose in the air and continued his path.
“I’ve been insulted aplenty, but this is the first time a full-grown man has called me a boring chicken,” Chaghan drawled as Altan appeared by his side. “Should I add that to my achievements?”
Altan huffed with laughter. “Don’t take offense,” he said, watching his uncle and Rin toss the shā pào onto the floor, where it popped with a tiny spark. “Ziya doesn’t like most people.”
“He doesn’t like people who don’t let Rin run headfirst into danger,” Hanelai snorted, taking her hair out of her bun and rebraiding them. “Which means I should like you. Besides, there’s no reason not to like my nephew’s boyfriend. You don’t plan on breaking his heart, do you?”
“Āyí!” Altan said in exasperation.
Hanelai didn’t back down, still staring right at him. This was Altan’s guardian, who had watched him grow and loved him like her own child. “Well? Are you?”
Impossibly, Chaghan felt the tip of his mouth quirk up. He had previously found this woman tolerable, but something akin to respect had begun to blossom. This was where Altan had learnt not to back down. “No, ma’am. If I did, I don’t think Mai’rinnen would let it slide in school.”
Hanelai smiled. “I don’t suppose she would. Though she’d be picking your carcass clean after I’m through with you. I don’t suppose her father and his friends would like a turn, too.”
“Āyí!”
“With this?” Chaghan waved his hand. “You’ll struggle to have enough flesh in the first place.”
At that, she did laugh.
Chaghan was surprised. Not many shared his sense of humour, and he didn’t expect her to, either.
“Alright, alright.” She glanced at Altan. “My hands are off. Happy new year, Chaghan.”
Chaghan parroted her words as she left to join her daughter, only to turn around and find Altan’s face buried in his hands. “I thought she was the most calm out of all of them. Turns out, she was the fiercest.”
“I told her not to do anything like that.” Altan’s muffled voice seeped from between his fingers.
“She’s protective. I can appreciate that.” Chaghan thought about it. “Besides, she’s married to Ziya and the mother of Rin. I should’ve seen it coming.”
Snippets of Hanelai’s words drifted to them. Something about Rin’s incense stick. Chaghan glanced at Altan for an explanation.
“Rin can’t use lighters,” Altan explained. “Last year, she nearly burnt the house down. So we let her light things with incense sticks. It takes more time, but they lower the risk of injuries. Besides, they train her patience.”
Of course the fiend nearly set her own house on fire. Why not? Chaghan wondered if the Trengsin’s “affinity for fire” was code for “prone to danger”.
Half an hour later, after Yin Riga has decided to set off the large fireworks, each explosion echoing into the night sky like a gunshot, bursting into brilliant hues.
Chaghan watched how tiny gold would intertwine electric blues. How purple would steal the night skies before they faded into nothing. How some would last longer in the sky, taking hold of some glorious shape, and some burst into droplets of stars.
“What are you thinking?” Altan asked him quietly, the both of them tucked in the corner of the balcony where they watched the fireworks take into the night, the smoke briefly blocking out the sight of the stars.
Chaghan thought of the way he could feel Altan’s warmth radiating next to him. How he could hear Hanelai laughing at her daughter trying to picture what shapes the fireworks took form with her father. How wind brought the chemical smells Altan grew up used to and could learn to make tricks with the sparklers.
Most of all, he thought of the way he could stay here, in his own world, with nothing but Altan to demand his attention.
“You,” he said.