Chapter Text
After living with Lu Guang for a little over two years, Cheng Xiaoshi had learned two things.
1. Lu Guang enjoyed trying new food, especially the gourmet stuff.
Cheng Xiaoshi liked most foods, but he wasn’t very experimental. He knew what he liked and what he didn’t, and he was fine eating regular-quality meals. Besides, he was well aware that he couldn’t constantly splurge on rare, high-quality foods because he had a debt to pay, and he was okay with that. Lu Guang was too, but the slight sparkle in his eyes whenever they ate something “fancy” showed he loved gourmet food, much more than Cheng Xiaoshi.
And—
2. Lu Guang had an inconsistent appetite.
It wasn’t worrisome—at least, not at first. Lu Guang ate whenever Cheng Xiaoshi did; they often spent their meals together. The only occasions they ate at separate times were when they were apart for a while, but even then, Cheng Xiaoshi assumed Lu Guang ate around the same time he did, with a similar eating schedule and all.
But that was merely an assumption.
Cheng Xiaoshi noticed that sometimes Lu Guang ate less than usual. Instead of a full plate of food, he would fill it up halfway and claim that he wasn’t very hungry.
That was normal. Cheng Xiaoshi had moments where he lacked his usual appetite, so he didn’t put too much thought into it. Lu Guang was like anyone else; some days, he just wasn’t feeling up to eating.
What did kind of bother him, though, were the days Lu Guang simply forgot to eat, or so he claims.
They were busy people. It was true that their regular photo shop duties didn’t always take up much of their time—people preferred digital photos over physical ones—but crime never slept. Officer Xiao would stop by every now and then to hand them a new case the police force couldn’t quite solve on their own, and so they would spend hours trying to solve problems with their powers.
Sometimes, even mundane tasks required their effort, like a client who wished to confess to someone before they passed, or a client who wanted to remember an old tune their mother used to sing to them at night.
Whatever it may be, Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi’s days were packed with new adventures.
So, it wasn’t too unusual for Lu Guang to forget a meal here and there. Hell, sometimes Cheng Xiaoshi would be working in the darkroom, completely engrossed in his craft, before his attention was dragged towards the uncomfortable rumbling in his stomach, reminding him that he had gone a little too long without eating.
Cheng Xiaoshi figured it was the same for Lu Guang.
That man was always preoccupied with something. If he wasn’t organizing client orders or managing their funds, he was looking through the piles of documents and photographs that Officer Xiao entrusted them with. It was no surprise that he would get too absorbed in whatever he was doing, so much so that he forgot to meet Cheng Xiaoshi at the table to eat.
Cheng Xiaoshi never questioned him. Never once brought it up.
Although some days, it worried him a little more than usual, and he debated confronting his partner.
A few skipped meals weren’t too concerning, but one too many was where Cheng Xiaoshi drew the line. Sure, his own eating habits weren’t the best, but if his were poor, then Lu Guang’s were horrible.
From an outsider’s perspective, Lu Guang ate like a regular person. He would prepare a meal if he was hungry, and there were moments when eating just slipped his mind.
But Cheng Xiaoshi wasn’t an outsider; he was Lu Guang’s best friend, roommate, partner. He noticed things no one else would, and whether it was because Lu Guang’s habits were unchanging or because he liked to pay close attention to him, he’d rather not answer.
He really didn’t want to pry, didn’t want to overstep any boundaries, but sometimes, he worried for his partner. Not just because of his inconsistent appetite, but because there were times it felt intentional, times Lu Guang simply shook his head when Cheng Xiaoshi offered him food after realizing he hadn’t eaten yet that day.
That wasn’t normal. It shouldn’t be.
Cheng Xiaoshi tried to tell himself that Lu Guang was an adult who was fully capable of taking care of himself, and he was sure Lu Guang wouldn’t do anything to purposefully damage his health, but it was growing harder to believe that.
Because how normal was it to replace meals with coffee or tea enough for it to become noticeable?
* * *
Lu Guang was all too familiar with hunger.
Before being placed with Lu Dashan, it was an uncomfortable feeling. Whenever his stomach started rumbling, he would search for food, asking the nearest adult if he could have a snack. He learned that if he used his manners, his wishes would be granted, and he would be given something to eat. And even if he was cranky and therefore lacked politeness when asking for food, they wouldn’t let him starve. Instead, they fed him and encouraged him to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’.
That wasn’t the case in his foster home.
Lu Guang learned very quickly that food wasn’t something he could simply ask for. Even if he used his manners, it wasn’t guaranteed that his hunger would be satisfied.
His “right” to food became a “privilege”, and his hunger would often be ignored.
Lu Dashan didn’t care if Lu Guang was famished. Food was not just given; it was earned.
If he did what he was asked, he would be rewarded with a meal. If he didn’t quite meet Lu Dashan’s expectations, he would be denied food for days at a time.
To eat meant he was good. If he was bad, he would be starved.
Although Lu Guang was a smart child, he was not perfect. Even if he tried his absolute best to fulfill Lu Dashan’s countless demands, he was bound to make mistakes. And instead of calmly correcting them, Lu Guang was punished in various ways.
Sometimes, Lu Dashan laid his hands on him. Lu Guang knew it was wrong—your guardian should not be towering over you, threatening your safety if you messed up in any way. He wasn’t stupid. It wasn’t normal for your parent to punch, kick, throw, or drag you when you didn’t meet their standards. But even if he understood this, he was powerless against an adult as a frail, neglected kid.
He recalled those nights he returned to their apartment, bracing himself to be slammed against the wall for a reason he knew didn’t justify violence. When Lu Dashan finally landed the first hit, he assessed his anger and tried to figure out whether his punishment would end there or breach containment.
Some days, all he got was a beating. Others, he was given a period of time when he wasn't allowed to eat. And each time, he ended up in that cramped locker, left with his thoughts and tears.
The frequency of these punishments rewired Lu Guang’s brain.
Hunger was no longer a signal for him to ask for food—if he did, he would be met with nothing but a scoff. Instead, hunger was a sign that he was ‘bad’, that he did something to deserve an empty stomach. It reminded him of his shortcomings and motivated him to do better next time.
But he was a child who did not know everything. His powers granted him the ability to foresee the future, but it did not give him all of the knowledge this world had to offer.
He made many mistakes, which led to many days without food.
Hunger became less rare. He was famished, starved.
But what could he do? He was helpless and had no one.
No one but Cheng Xiaoshi, a friend he made one summer. Someone who gave him hope, someone who proved to him that the world was not as cruel as he thought.
Whenever he showed up at the train tracks, faint from hunger, Cheng Xiaoshi handed him a snack and didn't bat an eye if Lu Guang inhaled every crumb. But much as Cheng Xiaoshi helped him through the days his body was running out of energy, it wasn’t enough to undo the damage Lu Dashan’s punishments had caused.
The feeling of being starved was still slightly uncomfortable, but Lu Guang eventually got used to it. If his legs were shaky, hands trembling, vision blurry, and stomach rumbling, Lu Guang did not complain. He didn’t know whether to be proud or pity himself for the fact that he could easily ignore his needs.
And Lu Guang still didn’t know.
He was an adult now. It had been years since meals were rewards instead of necessities, years since he had last seen Lu Dashan, but his eating habits were just as inconsistent.
Lu Guang didn’t starve himself. At least, he didn’t think he did. Not on purpose.
Some days he forgot to eat, too busy with the studio or police cases, but it wasn't anything to worry about. People skipped meals every now and then. Life got hectic. Only a few people managed to balance everything in life. Lu Guang was fine not being one of them.
He saw nothing wrong with his eating habits. Even when Cheng Xiaoshi or Qiao Ling commented on his interesting appetite, which shifted from too big to too small, he believed his eating habits were normal—because if something was wrong, he would know. It had always been like this, and if he was functioning okay, then nothing needed to change.