Chapter Text
Suspended in the air, he might believe that he had ascended beyond his trivial woes. Up here it didn’t matter who he was or what he had done. Hanging upside down in the embrace of his silks, fingers reaching out towards the stage below, he was free. There was only the sunlight on his bare arms, the whisper of the loose strands of his long hair falling past his face. Music from behind him and soft cheers from beyond. Surely the pains from below couldn’t reach him here.
But the music always ended, and Xie Lian always fell back to Earth.
As the final notes of the violin swelled, he flipped upward and grabbed the two silks. His legs were spread nearly in a split, his body spinning as he let the silk unwind from around his body. He let his legs close slowly as they were released and soon he held himself up with only the strength of his arms. To the onlookers he lowered himself to the ground as light as a feather. To him, it was a labor of love, calling on the well cultivated strength in his body to bring himself down with control rather than letting gravity do the work. He let his fingers stroke over the silk as he landed, a silent farewell until their next dance. We did well, Ruoye.
The crowd cheered and he bowed gratefully. It was a small crowd but it was the most people he had performed for since the theater incident, the first real work he’d had in three weeks. His stage was a small one, set up in the middle of the park, usually performed on by local bands and hosting the occasional open mic poetry event, but Xie Lian had a talent for begging for scraps.
“Thank you, thank you for coming!” he called, and offered one more hasty bow before exiting the stage. He knelt by the side and collected his robe and his bag. He performed in thin cotton pants that didn’t restrict his movement, and either shirtless or in an equally unobtrusive top of some kind. Today he wore a white, sleeveless shirt that fit like a second skin, and he was quick to tie the sash of his robe at his waist. Things like embarrassment and shame didn’t exist for him in the air but everything was different once he was on the ground.
He returned to the stage and unwound his silks from the framework that had been put up for his performance. When he had first transitioned from martial arts to aerial performance he thought outdoor frames like this one looked terribly unsafe but they hadn’t let him down yet, literally or otherwise. He folded his silks into his bag and he was on his way.
He considered heading back to the apartment but he needed to go to the market stalls and replace his roommates’ vegetables that he had cooked in an attempt at a kind gesture to a very low degree of success. He cringed thinking about the blackened, unidentifiable clumps stuck to the bottom of Mu Qing’s favorite pan. In his defense, he had been so sure he set a timer.
It was a beautiful day to be out, if nothing else. There was a slight breeze to stir the leaves of the tall red maples that filled the park and a few of them blew around him, skittering on the sidewalk around his feet, a narrow path that opened up to the much larger area that made up the central point of the park. He favored the massive fountain before him with a smile. It was tall and decadent, a spiral of gold and stone. A few red leaves had found the end of their journey in the clear pool at its base.
The warm day had brought many out to enjoy it, so many that he actually had to navigate through several people, apologizing all the way, rather than meandering unhurriedly across the stone pavilion like he usually would. Sometimes he would sit on the edge of the fountain until he saw the sun setting in the reflection on the water and realize he had lost track of time. Today, though, he had no such luxury. He wanted to make it to the stalls before they closed.
A commotion drew his attention to his left. A few people had grumbled in annoyance or outright shouted, and Xie Lian saw the source of the ruckus emerge from the crowd. He was a rather slight young man of no remarkable features, which might have been what drew Xie Lian’s eyes that more closely to the flash of silver his hand, and his head whipped to the left to follow the man’s eyes. It would have been more difficult to discern for whom his murderous stare was intended if everyone wasn’t giving its recipient such a wide berth. He was a tall man with one half of his face nearly obscured by thick, black hair, dressed from head to toe in black and deep, vivid red.
The young man lunged and Xie Lian acted on instinct.
He leapt between them and pushed the tall man aside. He threw his other hand out, pulling the end of Ruoye out of his bag as he did, and he caught it halfway to make a loop. He flicked his arm and the silk wove around the silver blade arcing towards him, slicing through the air where the red clad man had stood moments earlier. He snatched the blade away and heard it clatter to the pavement by his feet.
“Hey!” he called, but the man wielding it had fled.
He turned towards the rather stunned man at his side and remembered how forcefully he had stricken him. He offered him a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry for pushing you but it seems that person was trying to harm you.”
The man straightened and Xie Lian was of no slight frame himself but he had to tilt his head slightly to look at the other man’s face. He didn’t look to be much older than Xie Lian’s own twenty-three, to the best he could tell with so much of the man’s visage hidden under long, black hair.
Xie Lian returned his silk to his bag, and the man’s one visible eye followed the movement before he gave Xie Lian a warm smile.
“This one needs no apology, you have my gratitude,” he said in a deep, melodious voice. “Seeing a knife coming towards me was alarming but that white ribbon flying past my face was a far greater surprise.”
“Oh, that’s Ruoye!”
The man arched a single brow, still smiling, and Xie Lian flushed. “N-never mind that. I should be going, are you alright?”
“Thanks to you, I am. You must allow me to take you to dinner to show my gratitude, gege.”
The familiarity took Xie Lian by surprise but he supposed he had neglected to introduce himself. Then the man’s words registered and he waved his hands frantically. “What? No, don’t be silly! You could have been hurt, of course I intervened. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“Would gege be willing to share his name?”
“Oh, of course. I’m Xie Lian,” he said, offering his hand.
Wind stirred around them, bringing with it a surge of maple leaves and the sound of tinkling bells, and blew the hair from the man’s face. He stared at Xie Lian with one cognac brown eye, the other covered by a black eyepatch. He took Xie Lian’s hand but rather than grasping it he slid his own underneath it and held it as though he addressed royalty. The sunlight winked off the ornate silver wrist cuffs he wore and his rings were cool against Xie Lian’s hand. He was devastatingly beautiful.
“You can call me San Lang, gege.”
Still gege, huh? “San Lang,” he repeated softly.
Then two men in black suits ran up on either side of San Lang and bowed. “Sir, please stop running off on your own!”
San Lang’s warm smile turned to one of wry amusement. “I was indeed targeted in your absence but gege saved me.”
Both men exploded into questions and demands of who Xie Lian was and how dare he touch him, but a single narrowing of San Lang’s eye plunged them into silence.
“I should be going,” Xie Lian said, withdrawing his hand.
“How will I reach you to repay my debt?” San Lang asked.
He laughed. “I’ve already told you, there is no debt.” The other man only stared at him, so he cleared his throat and gestured vaguely to the direction from where the two suited men had come from. “I have to be going now. Goodbye, San Lang.”
He hurried past him before the man could protest. The suited men stepped aside to let him pass, and as he did he could have sworn he heard the tinkle of bells, the shift of bracelets.
He arrived at the apartment with vegetables in tow, and he wished he could say he hadn’t thought about that encounter during his short journey home. It had been strange to the point of seeming surreal. He toed his shoes off by the door and called out, “I’m home!”
“I hate you!” Mu Qing yelled back.
Xie Lian wilted. “I’m really sorry about your pan.”
“Good!” Feng Xin shouted, and there was the sound of something clattering to the tile floor in the kitchen.
Xie Lian emerged from the small entryway to find that his roommates were not addressing him at all, which made a lot more sense given they had never uttered such unkindness to him, even if he was a mooch who had asked to sleep on their couch for the weekend...two months ago. In fact, they detested each other so much he wondered if they had any anger left to spare for anyone else.
“I got some food to replace what I burned,” he said, holding up his bag, hoping to diffuse whatever argument they had started this time.
“You shouldn’t have bothered, he could have just stolen some and you could have saved your money,” Feng Xin said with a sneer.
Mu Qing slammed his hand on the counter, vibrating the knives in their block. “I didn’t steal it you idiot it was mine and you never returned it.”
“It-it…” Feng Xin trailed off, his face coloring. “You’re an idiot!”
And with that eloquent retort, he stormed to his room and slammed the door.
Xie Lian dropped his bag on the counter and smiled at Mu Qing, who stared after the other man for a moment before snatching a spatula off the floor, which Xie Lian could guess is what he heard when he first came in. “Can I do anything to help?” he asked.
Mu Qing huffed as he washed the spatula. “With dinner or that neanderthal that I made the mistake of signing a year long lease with?”
“Ah...either?”
“I’ll take some of those vegetables, please.”
Xie Lian laid out a colorful array of vegetables and a couple bundles of fresh herbs he had thought to add at the last minute. Mu Qing was already starting to calm and he wished he could see the best sides of his two friends when they were in the same room but that might be too much to hope for even from someone with his optimism. He watched Mu Qing start chopping the ends off of string beans and thought back to the silver blade he had seen earlier. He wondered why that man had attacked San Lang, it seemed too much like he had singled him out for it to be some kind of attempted mugging. The fact San Lang seemed wholly unconcerned by the attempt and his employment of what seemed to be bodyguards further enforced his opinion that it wasn’t a random attack. Maybe it didn’t matter. More likely than not, he wouldn’t see that man again. Their paths had only just crossed today after Xie Lian’s lifetime of living in Dynasty so the chances they would again seemed slim.
“Can I do anything else?” he asked.
Mu Qing was heating oil in the pan (which looked as good as new, Xie Lian was relieved to notice) and shook his head with a concise flick of his high, black ponytail. “No, thank you.”
“I’m going to take a shower and change.”
He pushed himself off the counter where he had been leaning and went down the hallway with his bag in tow. They had been kind enough to lend him the small linen closet for his clothes since he was currently a resident of their living room, and he collected a pair of white sweatpants from his small stack of clothing. At least having so few possessions had made the transition easier when he got kicked out of his own apartment and showed up on his two oldest friends’ doorstep like a stray cat they had made the mistake of feeding one too many times.
He slipped out of his clothes and dropped them in the hamper before stepping under the stream of mercifully hot water. Remembering his hair was still up, he hooked his finger under the thin tie holding it in place and let it fall down his back. He closed his eyes, remembering not too long ago when he had stood in this very same shower with tears mixing with the water that poured down his face, broke and evicted and feeling like the guilt inside him was going to eat a hole clean through his body at any moment and leave him as empty as he felt.
Piano music reaching a crescendo, people cheering.
Then a crack.
He rubbed his eyes as if it would dispel the image in his mind. As if such a minute gesture could rid him of the memory that had plagued his every moment for the past two months both waking and sleeping. He didn’t know how long he stood there but the water was much cooler when he heard knuckles rap on the door and Mu Qing say that dinner was ready.
He made quick work of the rest of his shower and pulling his sweats on. His hair was still damp, a few strands sticking to his bare back, but it would dry on its own and he was starving. He padded down the hallway and found his roommates at the small kitchen table. They didn’t spare the other a glance but when Feng Xin reached for the pepper shaker Mu Qing still passed it to him. Xie Lian fought back a smile. He knew it would only plunge them into discourse if they asked him the reason for it and he was honest, but truly he just wondered why they fought so much when they clearly didn’t actually hate each other.
“It smells wonderful,” he said, fidgeting around in his chair with excitement.
Feng Xin scowled. “It’s okay.”
Mu Qing didn’t rise to it for once, save for a roll of his eyes. “How was your show today, Xie Lian?”
“It was good, I had quite the turnout!” He considered recounting what happened afterwards but his friends were overprotective and would probably fly into a panic if he mentioned it. He found their demeanor as amusing as he did endearing, since he was a martial artist before he had started learning aerial performance two years ago and was rather capable of taking care of himself. He still trained with Feng Xin often so he should at least know better but he still became enraged any time he thought Xie Lian might be at risk.
The two across the table didn’t speak to each other the entire time they finished their meal, but Feng Xin stacked Mu Qing’s empty plate with his own when he left the table, and Xie Lian knew these silent gestures were the pair’s odd way of showing they cared even if they would likely never admit it.
Xie Lian helped Feng Xin with the dishes before they all went their separate ways. Once they had both gone to their rooms he dimmed the lights and stretched out on the couch. He had started to doze when his phone chimed, and he felt along the floor to pick it up.
(New Message)
Shi Qingxuan
are you still coming tomorrow?!
He unlocked his phone with a swipe of his finger and typed a quick response. Of course :)
He let his phone fall on his chest and sighed. Those two words and stupid happy face was a shorter, easier response than all the other things he wanted to say. Of course, because I feel guilty as hell and I would fall on a sword if you asked me to, nevermind come over for lunch. Of course, because even though looking at you hurts me, I miss you. Of course.
Sleep had almost claimed him once more when a soft ding had him opening his eyes and looking at his phone again. He expected it to be from Qingxuan, but it was an automatic message from the booking service he used. He sat up and opened the notification with shaking fingers. Since he had been fired and gone freelance, he had only come to expect these notifications when he had finally begged and pleaded his way into getting hired, but he hadn’t reached out to anyone since he secured the performance at the park.
Booking Request
Location: The Crimson Fox Den, 800 Coral Ave.
There was also a number, one that he had to reread several times to believe it. He stared dumbly at the screen. He could accept the request in a matter of seconds from his phone. That was most money he had been offered to perform since...well, ever. His rates were on his profile and not only had it been a grueling process to get work at all, he certainly had never been offered more than his advertised rate. The requested date was only two days away and he had to accept no later than twenty-four hours before then.
His finger hesitated above the screen. That was too much money. He had brought his recent misfortune entirely on himself, he deserved no such thing. If anything, Qingxuan would be better suited to such a venue, as vibrant and charismatic as they were, and Xie Lian would offer the job to them instead if such a thing was possible. He locked his phone and plugged the charger in. He stared at the ceiling but the white expanse above offered him no sympathy or guidance.
He closed his eyes, knowing the achingly familiar notes of the piano awaited him, but resigning himself to sleep nonetheless.
The night found him sleepless, but the afternoon found him in company with enough energy for the both of them. He barely had time to offer a greeting before Qingxuan launched into his arms and he laughed as he embraced their slender but powerful body. Clearly, their injury had not kept them down long enough for them to get out of shape. Xie Lian just wished that was enough to make him feel better.
“You look exhausted,” Qingxuan said, pulling back to look him up at down.
“I just slept wrong is all.”
“Hm, and you’re a fucking liar, too.”
He flushed. “I’m not-”
“Sit. Speak.”
And like a good dog he folded himself into the chair Qingxuan had gestured to. Competing against the world’s most talented martial artists on a national level and hanging in the air by a piece of silk didn’t faze him but even he lacked the might to face off against Shi Qingxuan. He pulled a sky blue cushion into his lap and began twirling one of the tassels that hung from the corners. He saw Qingxuan curl up on the end of the couch closest to him and wilted under their scrutiny. How could I tell them, that I would be so selfish to wallow in my own feelings rather than focus on how they’re doing? But for all that they possessed a light, airy disposition, Qingxuan would just as quickly cut to the truth without mercy and even Xie Lian would not be spared.
“I think I witnessed an attempted murder yesterday.”
Qingxuan craned their head out to stare into his face, pale blue eyes wide. “You say that like most people say ‘oh no, I forgot to hang my laundry out to dry.’ What do you mean an attempted murder?” they cried.
Xie Lian recounted the events from the park, from the moment he saw the knife-wielding young man emerge from the crowd, to his meeting San Lang. He described San Lang to the best of his abilities but he really didn’t think he could adequately put the man to words. His unique presence and disposition was to be remarked on as surely as his appearance but Xie Lian himself hadn’t figured out what to think of him, let alone be able to relay it to someone else.
Qingxuan sat in silence for a long moment, and silence was not a practice they indulged often so Xie Lian was prepared to ask after them when they finally said, “He sounds hot.”
“Qingxuan, that’s not the point!” Xie Lian cried, face warming.
“You didn’t disagree with me, though.”
Xie Lian opened his mouth and then closed it. How could he disagree without being a blatant liar. There was no need in denying the man was attractive, but he didn’t see how that was important. “That’s not even the strangest thing that happened yesterday.”
“Oh?”
He swallowed hard. This was the part that was hard to talk about. “I, um-” he pulled on the tassel until he feared it would rip from its stitches – “I was booked for a job. It pays...really well.”
“That’s great!” they said without hesitation.
“I don’t think I’m going to take it.”
He was caught off guard by the cushion that matched the one in his lap flying towards him and nearly hitting him in the face. His hand flew up just in time to intercept it and toss it aside. He didn’t even get a chance to ask the reason for the assault before Qingxuan was yelling, “And why would you not take it? Is it an adult entertainment thing? I know how those types of parties embarrass you.”
“No, it’s nothing like that – well, not in the way you’re thinking. It’s at a casino. But Qingxuan, I can’t. I could never go up on that stage in front of all those people, for all that money, when you can’t…”
Their face softened, though they still looked exasperated. “I can’t yet. Don’t go counting me out. Besides, you’re broke broke. You need the money. Then you can start paying for my medical bills and weekly spa trips.”
Xie Lian brightened. “Of course I will! I tried when it first happened but you said-”
“I’m joking you sweet fool. Gods, it’s a good thing you’re pretty.”
He stared at Qingxuan, the sun coming through the gauzy curtains behind the couch and outlining them in yellow light something like a halo. Xie Lian’s throat tightened with emotion. “Qingxuan, do you…”
His friend tilted down and he had to look away. Their smile hurt too much. That they could wear it so carefree and genuinely when they looked at someone like Xie Lian who had caused them so much pain, like it probably didn’t hurt to sit with their leg folded under them like it was now but they were stubborn so they did it anyway. Xie Lian choked back the question on his lips. He wanted to be a good friend for them, an iron beam of support, they deserved that much. That and a lot more.
“Xie Lian?”
“Do you…” He had to finish his sentence now that he’d started so he plucked the first thought that came to mind, unfortunately. “Do you really think I’m pretty?”
He could still hear Qingxuan’s laughter in his ears even once he had returned to the apartment. It wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever said to get himself out of a tight spot, at least. He expected his entire graduating class still believed he had erectile dysfunction.
Nobody was home when he arrived. Mu Qing was probably working, and Feng Xin was probably at the dojo. He decided some exercise couldn’t hurt him, either, and went back to Feng Xin’s room. They had both given him permission to borrow any of their belongings he wanted, though he was more likely to borrow from Feng Xin since the nature of Mu Qing’s work was so delicate and the man was just more private by nature. He slipped into the small room and flipped the light on. It wasn’t as obsessively clean and organized as Mu Qing’s room but it was tidy enough.
Tidy enough that the mound of black fabric on the end of the bed immediately caught his attention. Wasn’t that his? He picked it up curiously, and the smell of subtle but expensive cologne assaulted his senses. Not his. It looked similar to one of his long sleeved shirts but that was unmistakably Mu Qing’s cologne. He grabbed Feng Xin’s weights out of the closet and was nearly out of the room when his brain caught up and he slowly turned around. This was Feng Xin’s room. That was...Mu Qing’s shirt. Their words from the previous day returned to him, it was mine and you never returned it. Was this what they had been fighting over? He couldn’t believe Feng Xin would have any desire to borrow Mu Qing’s clothes and he could fathom even less that Mu Qing would have returned it after taking it back from him.
His roommates were truly strange.
He took the weights back to the living room and took his phone out. This was not the first time he had done so, but more likely the hundredth, and each time he turned it to his pocket without so much as touching the screen. He wondered if he could convince Qingxuan to accept anything from him if he took the job. What’s more he wondered what hell he would be in for if Qingxuan found out he didn’t take it. He sat heavily on the couch. Even with his feelings about Qingxuan aside, he desperately needed to compensate Mu Qing and Feng Xin for their hospitality. He had been essentially freeloading since his savings account ran dry and they had been nothing but kind, nothing but patient, letting him share their already limited space and eat their food.
“Fuck it,” he said to the empty apartment, and picked his phone up one more time.