Archive of Our Own

45°C.

That's the temperature Xiang Fei would have gazed upon in despair if he wasn't currently hustling to meet his deadline. Feeling hot in the summer wasn't anything new; the ceiling fan had been broken since he moved in. Even his hastily purchased second-hand window unit barely made a dent in the oppressive heat and humidity of mid-summer. He'd been vaguely aware of it rattling ominously before ceasing to run entirely at some point in the last few hours, but money trumped comfort in the Xiang hovel. He couldn't afford otherwise.

Sweat? Normal. Heavy breathing? Less normal, but not uncommon when the heat was really bad.

It wasn't until he found himself blinking at the ceiling, no memory of how he ended up on the floor, that he he truly noticed how dire things were. Without the distraction of writing the heat was oppressive, forcing him flat with almost physical pressure. The humid blanket from hell barely let him lift his head, let alone stand, leaving him stranded in the desert of Apartment Floor. He gazed wistfully at his oasis—the desk, phone less than a meter away. At the moment, it might as well have been a kilometer. He'd get his strength back soon, right?

He closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness hit, making him nauseous. Was his phone ringing? The only people who actually called were his parents, and it'd been a while since they bothered (not that he called them either). The floor apparently wasn't going to release him any time soon so it wasn't his fault he didn't pick up, okay?

***

45°C.

The number was front and center on the news, a whole squad of climate and weather "experts" vying for sound bite privilege as "historic" and "devastating" scrolled on the bottom of the screen. Mobei Jun lounged, perfectly comfortable in his immaculately air-conditioned high-rise apartment, and debated the pros and cons of further invading his boyfriend Xiang Fei's closely-guarded privacy.

It'd been two days since their first real fight. Xiang Fei had been squirrelly about pretty much everything in his private life to this point—family, job, education—but the real sticking point for Mobei Jun was how desperately Xiang Fei avoided taking him anywhere near where he lived. Like the other man wanted the ability to disappear altogether as soon as something went wrong, which was exactly what had happened.

"Why are you so hung up on this? I told you, it's nothing special. Your place is way nicer to hang out in!"

"I want to know."

"Yeah, I got that, but-"

"Tell me."

Uncomfortable silence. Then, his usually chatty, animated boyfriend closed in on himself like a hedgehog readying its spines.

"I know I spoil you, but that doesn't mean you get to have everything you want, you know! Can't I have my space to myself?!"

The anger startled him, and the argument only went downhill from there. Voices were raised, accusations were exchanged. Mobei Jun eventually stalked to his room to cool his head, slamming the door for good measure. Despite the uncharacteristic behavior Xiang Fei had eventually knocked, apologetic as usual. He also looked so genuinely wretched Mobei Jun couldn't bring himself to stay angry.

"Wangzi¹. Can you drive me home? The most normal car you have, please. It's not a nice area."

An olive branch. He'd grasped it with both hands by nodding and discreetly renting a Lexus LS to be delivered to the garage immediately in lieu of his go-to Panamera.

…The area was worse than he'd ever imagined, and his face stayed impassive through sheer willpower. Not that it mattered, because Xiang Fei was looking anywhere but at him. He wasn't invited in; the smaller man leapt from the car like a spring as soon as the doors unlocked, thanking him for the ride and mumbling that he'd be busy for a while.

"Apartment number."

He wasn't trying to pick another fight, but had a feeling if he didn't ask now it'd be twice as difficult to pry it out of Xiang Fei later. He'd gotten this far and didn't feel like backing down when victory was finally in reach. Xiang Fei visibly clenched his teeth but, as he always did, acquiesced.

""404."²

He disappeared while Mobei Jun was still reeling from the inauspicious reveal. Didn't most buildings skip the fourth floor entirely? Couldn't it at least have the decency to cut straight from 403 to 405?

And that's how he'd gotten here—watching the weather and worrying. No way in hell that unlucky building had reliable AC. Xiang Fei was some type of freelancer; he didn't have an office to take refuge in. Also, the man was so damn resistant to help. Would he even go to one of the public cooling centers if his building was uninhabitable?

No response to messages. He resorted to calling; nothing, not even a voicemail prompt. He didn't have a number for anyone else. As far as he could tell Xiang Fei was estranged from his family, and the one friend he talked about with any frequency he hadn't introduced to Mobei Jun yet. A fresh wave of bitterness finally overrode his indecision. If being worried and checking on his boyfriend led to another fight, then maybe they weren't meant to- maybe it meant they should-

He distracted himself by calling a Didi³ before he could finish that train of thought.

***

Wasn't it every normal person's fantasy to land a rich, connected partner and happily indulge in the privileges it provided? Practically every drama, historical and modern, was based on exactly that premise. In real life his privilege only seemed to complicate his relationship, but Xiang Fei was his first boyfriend. He didn't have a point of comparison.

Their relationship had started exactly like one of the overwrought dramas his childhood nanny would turn the channel to before starting her chores. Child him would stare, first with boredom, then with wonder at how expressive everything was onscreen. Colors, weather, laughter, tears, physics—all exaggerated and vibrant, completely different from the muted, lonely surroundings of his childhood. Before he knew it he watched them as religiously as any middle-aged auntie or angst-starved teenage girl.

The first episode had started thus: He'd been mugged. Or more accurately, an attempt had been made to mug him. He'd been about to crack the idiot's head open on a wall corner with his bare hands when pain made him flinch back, allowing the scumbag to stumble away before booking it.

Martial arts classes didn't prepare you for stab wounds. He stared at the crimson stain slowly spreading across his jacket and felt himself pull away, body sliding down the wall in shock. He debated the best course of action—call an ambulance? Like hell he wanted the media to get wind of some trash landing a lucky shot. How bad was it, really?

"-hear me? Hey, Dage!⁴ HEY!"

The sudden return to awareness made everything too loud, too painful. Too much. Couldn't this person see he was trying to think?

"What-"

It was hard to feel threatening when someone who appeared two-thirds his height and less than half his width managed to shove him supine before pressing something to his fucking wound-

Oh. Pressure.

"-called an ambulance, so sit tight okay? Fuck, that's way more blood than I thought, videos and medical textbooks really don't prepare you for-"

"You're…a medical student?"

"HA. Not even close. I took a first aid course my second year because it was free and I thought it'd be a good research opportunity. Never thought I'd actually USE any of it."

"So pressure…works."

"Yeah, it helps keep the blood inside where it's supposed to be, you know? And ideally slows the rate of bleeding. Helps things coagulate. You didn't pull the knife or whatever out, did you? That's a huge no-no, you actually want to keep it in because at that point it's helping keep your blood in your body, even if that sounds like the opposite of-"

He focused on the chatter, trying to ignore the pain. Noticed that the (Teen? Young man? Second year of what?) helping him was mostly focused on the wound, but kept sneaking glances at his face. His hair was too messy to be deliberately permed—naturally curly? And his eyes were huge and brown, like baby cows he'd seen on TV.

It shouldn't have worked, but put all together…cute.

And Mobei Jun was obviously delirious from blood loss, because he didn't look at people like that. He'd spent his whole childhood and adolescence adjacent to the upper echelons of society—models, immaculately styled men and women of rich and connected families, true trophy wives and beguiling mistresses—and none of them had made him feel anything more than disinterest. Or less than annoyance.

Maybe he was really into the logistics of stab wound treatment. Also, when had it gotten so bright?

"-Uhh I didn't ask. He's responsive, though! A bit out of it but that's probably like. Shock. Or blood loss. I'll leave the rest to the professionals, thanks for-"

Leave?

"No."

"No? OWOWOW Hey! How are you that strong, you can't even lift your head-"

"Stay."

"Bro, you don't even know my-"

"I want you to stay."

Things got hazy after that but he'd woken up in the hospital, a stranger with frizzy hair dead-asleep in a cot nearby.

The second episode continued the hospital scene: After a brief call from his father making sure his only legal heir hadn't lost any important mental or physical faculties, his paternal uncle Mobei Guang⁵ showed up in-person to feign concern and let off steam with several pointed, passive-aggressive comments Mobei Jun blatantly ignored.

It still left him in a bad mood when the hastily-introduced Xiang Fei returned from the hospital cafeteria, pushing an actual cart full of food. His glare melted into a confused stare as the other man started loading up his bed tray, rambling the whole time.

"-private hospitals are really something else, huh? Thanks for letting me put it on your tab! I don't know what you like so I got some of everything, pretty much? Doesn't this fruit look great? They even had a noodle bar! I got you congee, but there's tons of fixings to choose from! What do you want on it, Dage? If you're feeling too weak I'll even feed you-"

He cut off like he'd somehow insulted Mobei Jun's dead mother rather than flirt, smile wobbling as his entire body language shifted from excited to nervous.

Did he just psyche himself out? What a weirdo.

"Okay."

His nonchalant response gave the man a burst of confidence and, true to his word, Xiang Fei fed him the congee after meticulously loading it up with everything Mobei Jun indicated he liked. After making sure the patient was comfortable (Another blanket? Less blanket? Water? Fruit?), he consumed a worrying amount of the remaining food with a blissful expression.

"So, uh…Dage. I stayed like you wanted, right? And it's been great, really, but I have to go back to work. Rent won't pay itself! And all the nurses here are top notch and pretty, so it's not like you'll miss-"

"Mobei Jun. You can use my name."

"Dage" was, by pretty much every measure, a more normal name to call him than his actual name. Perhaps because they had more money than sense, his grandparents had decided the most appropriate name for their eldest son was "Mobei Wang⁶". This auspicious son apparently decided to double down by naming his only son "Mobei Jun⁷", blessing their family with both a King and a Lord.

It also meant Mobei Jun's introduction was met with either blank stares or smothered laughter among his peers, but he'd had 22 years of learning to ignore both. Strange or not, it was his name; he wouldn't change it to appease others or be ashamed. It wasn't like some nobody named "Flight⁸" could judge.

Xiang Fei's jaw literally dropped, eyes bugging out like a cartoon character. Mobei Jun felt his pride sting despite his previous thoughts, mouth curling into a scowl. No one had ever been this visibly shocked by his name.

"Holy shit. For real? Is this fate, or something? Fuck. Fuck, this kind of thing doesn't happen to me, what the hell…"

Weird. Xiang Fei was so fucking weird. How did he shift so quickly from shock to awe? He was looking at Mobei Jun like…like he was something precious. He'd only seen that look in dramas, not real life. Never towards him.

"Xiang Fei. Give me your number."

***

Now, they'd apparently reached the season finale of their whirlwind courtship. Xiang Fei's dilapidated building didn't have an elevator, making Mobei Jun's long, miserable trek to the fourth floor even more dread-inducing. Literally climbing towards Death…why did everything about this situation feel so doomed?

There was no answer to his first few knocks, but maybe Xiang Fei had done the sensible thing and went to a cooling center after all.

…Wishful thinking. Xiang Fei rarely did the sensible thing when it concerned his own health and safety. Also, if Mobei Jun lived here he certainly wouldn't answer the door just because.

He called again, frowning when the "Fantasy Westward Journey" theme song filtered through the door. Xiang Fei would never leave his cellphone behind if he was out; that and his laptop were his self-professed "most precious possessions".

"Xiang Fei. Open the door."

He strained his ears, faintly catching the sound of labored breathing once the ring tone subsided. Even if it was a studio, shouldn't the bed be farther from the door if he was sleeping? For all his usual detachment, Mobei Jun wasn't immune to being impulsive; it was one of the hottest days on record, he was standing in front of the double-death apartment on the death floor, and Xiang Fei wasn't responding.

He steadied himself before giving the door an experimental kick, shitty lock giving immediately. Irrational anger rose as he stormed in, resisting giving it another kick for good measure. He hadn't even used his full strength; could you even call that a door?

His anger dissipated so quickly it temporarily left him cold in the sweltering room. Xiang Fei was staring at him, flushed and wide-eyed, from the floor. He kneeled immediately, inordinately grateful he'd impulsively decided to take a First Aid course of his own after the mugging incident. He doubted the other man decided to lay on the floor by choice.

Thankfully, he could still talk.

"Wangzi? How did- did you break my door??? Wait, you remembered my apartment number? YOU CLIMBED THE STAIRS?"

Annoyance broke through the trepidation—being a fuerdai didn't mean he couldn't climb some stairs, exactly how helpless did Xiang Fei think he was? How the hell could he have forgotten that his apartment number was 404??

Xiang Fei's pulse was elevated and he couldn't sit up on his own, but his responsiveness and continued ability to sweat made Mobei Jun hesitate on calling an ambulance. Even the news urged not to call unless it was a true emergency due to the number of children, elderly and infirm individuals crowding the hospitals due to the historic heat. Maybe…maybe it'd be okay to wait. Monitor the symptoms, see if he'd recover with basic first aid.

He'd never taken care of anyone before now.

For Xiang Fei, he wanted to.

***

His Prince truly was a Prince Charming, because this was some D*sney shit. He was so relieved at not fucking dying in his shitty ass apartment, his atrophied sense of shame barely twinged when Mobei Jun lifted him in his arms like one would a beloved but infirm dog. Wait. Was Mobei Jun going to carry him down three flights of sweltering stairwell?!

Being placed in the freezing Didi Deluxe was like entering heaven. He practically ascended when Mobei Jun carefully placed his head in his lap and pressed a perspiring water bottle to his face, alternating between his cheeks, forehead, and neck. Maybe he'd died, and this was a well deserved post mortem dream to make up for the joke his life had been before he-

Wait. No. Who would take care of his prince if he was dead? Who else knew Mobei Jun's favorite ice cream flavor (Lychee Magnolia from some ridiculously expensive artisan brand you could only mail order direct from its one physical location), or that he enjoyed watching C-Dramas with the drive and devotion of a bored housewife with nothing else to look forward to? Who'd celebrate his damn birthday, even if all Xiang Fei had been able to afford on short notice was a dented balloon and discounted, day-old sheet cake?

"Xiang Fei."

Oh. Oops. How long had Mobei Jun been trying to get his attention?

"Haha, sor-"

"Bao…bei⁹. You need to stay awake. Don't sleep."

…BAOWHAAAAAT?

He didn't have the energy for an outburst, so he whined instead. Might as well take advantage of Mobei Jun being in, apparently, a doting (?) mood.

"It's too hard when it's this quiet. Talk to me more?"

Mobei Jun had a nice voice. Even when he was annoyed it was deep and smooth, a sound one could savor even when getting an earful. The most Xiang Fei generally heard him speak at once was recounting particularly interesting drama plot points, or describing the plot of an older series he hoped Xiang Fei would ask to watch.

"I was worried."

Ah. Shit.

"I'm sor-"

"I came because I care. Do you…think I want to own you? I want-"

His boyfriend choked on the remaining words before falling terribly, devastatingly silent. Xiang Fei, for the first time in his life, had no idea what to say. Wasn't he just…practice? Some fleeting fancy to fill Mobei Jun's time until he found a partner that actually fit his station? Mobei Jun was his ideal man, but Xiang Fei wasn't anyone's ideal. He'd simply grasped the piece of flawless white jade that'd inexplicably fallen into his lap with both arms and legs, expecting any day for the rightful owner to arrive and pry him off. Better to have and lose than to never have at all, right?

"Here."

Weightlessness, again. The chill of the marble lobby, smooth rise of the elevator and electric whine of the condo lock disengaging. The now-familiar sensation of Mobei Jun's butter-soft leather couch under his cheek, and-

…They hadn't done more than hold hands and (chastely) fall asleep on this same couch the whole time they'd been together. THIS was what got his prince to remove his clothes? A medical emergency???

Fuck his baka life.

Mobei Jun appeared completely unaffected as he stripped Xiang Fei to his boxers and placed cooling strips (where had those come from?) on key locations—the back of his neck, his armpits, the insides of elbows and knees— before producing a hand held sprayer fan and spritzing Xiang Fei from head to toe, former distress nowhere to be found.

It was the most comfortable Xiang Fei had been in the summertime, only marred by the guilt threatening to burn his heart to ash. This… wasn't something you did for a casual fling, right? Even he could admit that. Remembering the genuine hurt in Mobei Jun's voice from the Didi put the final nail in his self-made coffin of "I fucked up." Maybe Mobei Jun…actually liked him. Like. "Baobei" level liked him.

"Open."

He accepted the thermometer (this man owned a thermometer?) docilely, mind blank from the revelation. Right. When you liked someone, you wanted to take care of them. He definitely liked taking care of Mobei Jun. Still, Mobei Jun taking care of him?

The thought was overwhelming. Wrong, even.

A low sigh. "Thinking too hard. Temperature down; sleep after you drink."

Mobei Jun helped sit him up, even putting a pillow behind his back before shoving several chilled Maidong bottles of varying flavors into his lap. Watching him like a hawk as he slowly consumed two. Like many of his usual behaviors—Handing his (black!) card to the waiter without breaking eye contact; Squeezing his hand so firmly it felt more like a hostage situation than a date—it leaned more towards "slightly intimidating" than "caring" .

"I didn't know you liked Maidong¹⁰? Or owned a thermometer."

"Meituan Waimai."¹¹

"Ah."

So he'd gotten them for Xiang Fei specifically. Express delivery from the time they'd left the apartment to arriving at the high rise. And, well. Showing up to Xiang Fei's apartment at all, an area a respectable fuerdai would never be caught dead in otherwise. Walking to the fourth floor on the hottest day of the year to date, when his own building address had "888¹²" in it and an elevator that could traverse a dozen floors in seconds. Carrying Xiang Fei back down and taking care of him, even after the (one-sided) conversation in the Didi.

How could Xiang Fei be this lucky? Why would Mobei Jun want to be cursed with someone like him?

***

It was the second time he'd been able to watch Xiang Fei sleep since they started dating.

…With the first being the hospital, it was two for two on it necessitating some type of medical emergency.

He looked even younger asleep, barely past twenty when he was actually nearer to thirty. Mobei Jun hadn't believed him until he saw his ID. The only tendencies that showed his age were his perpetual mother-henning and occasional bouts of scolding regarding Mobei Jun's reluctance to enter the workforce post graduation.

"I'm not saying you have to work for your family, you could do literally anything! But isn't it boring doing nothing?"

It wasn't. He alternated between catching up on books and shows he hadn't had the energy for while in school, and taking Xiang Fei on dates whenever his mysterious schedule allowed. Life was good at the moment; why would he change it just because? It was easy to derail the lecture by pointedly asking what, exactly, Xiang Fei did for work. Instant change of topic—he always laughed nervously then deflected to something else.

Mobei Jun more than had the resources to track down every detail about Xiang Fei he wished to know, but the whole point of choosing a relationship was trust. If Xiang Fei was this guarded without cause, how would he react to underhanded tactics? Mobei Jun just…didn't know how to make himself trustworthy. It'd naturally come with time, right? It must.

"Wangzi?"

Xiang Fei stared at him with bleary eyes, sitting up and letting the blanket slip off before realizing he was still half naked and clutching it to himself like an affronted maiden.

"WHY- oh, right, hahahaha…thanks? That was uh. Thank you."

"What if I didn't know."

It wasn't a question, because they both knew the answer—Xiang Fei would have died in that apartment.

In the uneasy silence Mobei Jun sighed and offered his own olive branch; Xiang Fei's permanently stained t-shirt and ratty cargo shorts, freshly laundered by the building's in-house service. He even turned his head to offer a modicum of privacy.

"Have. Have you ever heard the phrase "If a man has the power to feed you, he also has the power to starve you"? I'm not uh, private to be a jerk, I just. Take that sort of thing to heart."

He hadn't heard it before, but the meaning was obvious. Bad previous relationship? Bad parents?

Xiang Fei was still talking, not actually expecting an answer to the question.

"Look, without getting into the whole sob story, I know what it's like to be cut off, okay? And that's from the people expected to take care of me. Because I can never be good enough. And I'm not—I have half a degree, I'm poor, the only thing I can make a living off of is writing and it's become so stressful I can't even say I'm good at it anymore! I'm good at throwing up words onto a page for money, that's all! Nothing I actually want ever works out for me, so of course this won't last, so why bother you with the shit show that's my life?!"

***

He knew he'd fucked up when Mobei Jun, stoic extraordinaire, physically recoiled from the words "of course this won't last".

You were always planning to leave?

He didn't even need to say it; Xiang Fei knew him well enough to read it clearly on his face. Thanks to the combination of "intimidating build" and "perpetual resting bitch face," he sometimes forgot his prince was only 22. Freshly graduated from university, currently avoiding the looming pressure of family and societal responsibilities. He was painfully reminded of that now as Mobei Jun simply turned away from him, staring into the distance. No raised voice. No storming off in a huff. Just…hurt.

Shit.

"I, I said it wasn't going to work out because I want it, right? I want this. You. It's been going too well, you know? Nothing ever- Wangzi. Wangzi, look at me, please?"

Mobei Jun was always looking at him whenever they weren't watching something. Even then, he'd glance to the side to gauge Xiang Fei's reactions at key moments. It'd been disconcerting (a little serial killer-ish) at first, but now he was used to it. Mobei Jun choosing to look away left him cold in a way even the heat outside couldn't make comfortable. His prince was a man of (extremely) few words; without his (minimal) expressions and body language to rely on, even the person who knew him best couldn't read anything off him but rejection.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I swear I don't want to leave, what- what can I do. I'll do anything to take back what I said okay? I'll stay until you're sick of me. I'll tell you the whole sob story. Wangzi? Are you even listening to me?"

"Finish school."

…Huh?

"I intern with father. You finish school."

This was not enough information to understand what Mobei Jun was actually trying to say, but he was finally looking at Xiang Fei so it was fine. He was the world's leading expert in Mobeijunese, he'd figure it out eventually.

"Wangzi. My bao-ist of bei's. Finish school with what money?"

Blank stare. Isn't it obvious.

"You can't possibly- what if I don't want to finish school, huh? What if it's not in my top three list of life regr- okay, I got myself there. But you can't just pay for-"

Blank stare. I can. We both know I can.

"I…I can't go through getting cut off again. I can't."

"Lump sum."

"WHAT."

That was INSANE. A lump sum to cover two years of university tuition?

"I could flee the country."

Nonsensical response, but too many things were happening in one day. Almost dying. Being rescued. Having another fight (was this a fight?). Being offered something too good to be fucking true. Of course he was losing his mind!

"Okay."

A shrug, but no broken eye contact.

"Be alone again. Like before."

Something they'd both been used to, "before". Before they'd found one another.

What the fuck was he doing. Hadn't he accepted Mobei Jun's proposal (for dating. proposal for dating) in the first place because there was no way that opportunity would drop into his lap ever again, even if it wasn't going to last? Now there was the tiniest chance they could be something more permanent than doomed, and he was trying to stoke the bonfire to burn it all down with his own breath?

Could he try to be the adultier-adult in this relationship for once? He didn't have much to offer besides five extra years of bad life decisions and subsequent lessons learned, but it was something.

"Okay. You win. You know it doesn't have to be your dad's company, right? Like I've said-"

"'You can literally do anything. Anything at all. Just don't do nothing the rest of your life. Do. Something.'"

…It was a decidedly flat imitation of his usual lecture, but it was definitely an imitation. He let out a squawk of laughter, flabbergasted. Mobei Jun had jokes? Also, he'd been listening seriously enough to quote Xiang Fei word for word?!

"I know. Trust me."

And that was the crux of their issues, wasn't it? Trust. The fight happened because he didn't trust Mobei Jun's intentions. The rescue happened because he'd relented enough to give out one scrap of personal info. His life possibly turning around was because Mobei Jun trusted him not to take a whole heap of money and run.

"Oh. Those."

He looked where Mobei Jun was pointing to find…his phone and laptop. Which definitely would have been stolen out of his unlocked apartment otherwise. HIS ENTIRE LIVELIHOOD.

He was kissing his most beautiful, least eloquent, most magnanimous boyfriend even before the words "I could kiss him" fully materialized in his mind. Their first kiss, in fact. Something he only remembered when he pulled away to see Mobei Jun absolutely dazzled, an expression that, for once, made him look his age.

…Fuck he could be cute. Prince Charming of all time.

Mobei Jun leaned in again with purpose, and maybe Xiang Fei would stay a few nights until the heatwave was over. Just until then.