Chapter Text
Jiang Cheng prided himself, above all, on two things in life.
First was the success his freelance career had achieved in the short few years since he’d started working as an interior designer. He’d worked damn hard the past three years to build this for himself from the ground up and now his efforts were finally paying off. He had projects that were fulfilling, an impressive portfolio under his belt, and a not-so-short line of clients. So, yeah, sue him—he was proud and he refused to let anyone take this from him.
Second was his workout routine. Four days a week, he spent a diligent hour or two at the gym, shutting off the storm in his mind to dedicate himself wholly to the exertion of exercise. This routine was one that had grounded him when little else did, when his life was in turmoil and his thoughts worse—feeling the tangible evidence of his efforts in the burn of his lungs and the ache of his muscles. More recently, he’d toned things back some, no longer pushing himself to the brink of collapse each time.
Hey, he’d never claimed to have the healthiest tendencies.
It was during one such evening, when Jiang Cheng was minding his own business at the lat pulldown, that he walked in.
The first thing Jiang Cheng noticed was that the man was tall. The second was that he was stupidly handsome in an infuriatingly effortless sort of way: flawless, glowing skin; strong, defined jaw; silky, long, ink-black hair drawn in a loose bun. His appearance and demeanor exuded refinement, in laughable contrast to the way his white t-shirt was stretched to its limit over broad shoulders.
When he settled himself down, with all the grace of royalty, at the incline press and proceeded to absolutely go to town, Jiang Cheng had to forcibly tear his eyes away before he started fucking drooling.
Fuck, it really must’ve been too long since he’d gotten laid if he was gawking at some random stranger.
He snuck another peek. The man was pressing a ridiculous amount of weight for how little exertion was reflected on those princely features. Jiang Cheng would’ve felt almost outraged if it weren’t drowned out by other things.
Taking a deep breath, he resolved to get through his routine without embarrassing himself. He was successful at that, at least, and thirty minutes later, he slunk out of the exercise room, resolutely not looking in the direction of the handsome man, to dunk himself in a cold shower.
—
Jiang Cheng had a dedicated—some claimed 'punishing', but they were wrong—workout regimen. It was a blessing and a curse because apparently, Gym Guy had the same idea and now Jiang Cheng saw him multiple times a week. One would think it’d get easier with the regular exposure, but of course nothing in Jiang Cheng’s life was ever easy.
Other people might be happy to have a piece of eye candy to appreciate while working out, and maybe other people might even act on the attraction, but Jiang Cheng was not other people. He was, as his brother enjoyed reminding him, one grumpy sonofabitch and possibly the most repressed man on Earth and also doomed to be a single dog for his entire wretched life (alright, maybe that last one wasn’t entirely Wei Ying’s contribution) . So, naturally, he opted to suffer in silence.
On the bright side, the man with the body and face of a god didn’t seem to have noticed Jiang Cheng yet. He blithely continued to go about his workout routine, showing off just what sort of strength was hidden in that muscled physique like it wasn’t all slowly driving Jiang Cheng mad.
God, he wanted those arms to pin him to the nearest vertical surface. He wanted those hands to run all over his body, one of those thick thighs to wedge between his, that perfectly-shaped mouth to swallow his groans.
He wanted his brain to shut up, for the love of heaven.
—
Jiang Cheng didn’t go out much, not for anything not related to work. When he did, it was usually because one of his (few) friends—usually his demonspawn of a brother—had harassed him until he snapped and agreed to go along with whatever plan they’d concocted. And, alright, maybe it was good to relax every now and then.
Doesn't mean he had to like it.
Jiang Cheng slouched a little more in his seat, withdrawing into his hoodie as he took a bite of blueberry cheesecake. The cafe was too busy for his liking, this time of day; the level of background noise from the other patrons toed the line to grating.
A figure caught his attention as he was glancing around, in no small part due to the fact that they stood a head taller than everyone around them. The man stood by the front counter, gaze glued to the phone in his hand, his other hand slipped casually into the pocket of his slacks, a brown leather folio case tucked under the same arm.
Jiang Cheng nearly did a double take.
It was Gym Guy—wearing an impeccable blue suit instead of his usual workout attire, but still undeniably him. Jiang Cheng hadn’t even recognized him at first. His long hair was down from its usual updo, cascading in a sleek curtain over his wide shoulders and down his back. He wore no tie, and the top two buttons of his white dress shirt were undone, revealing the intimate dip of his throat and, if Jiang Cheng really looked—which he wasn’t —a hint of defined collarbones. His slacks, the same deep blue as his jacket, accentuated those long legs, their crisp crease leading down to polished brown dress shoes.
What was worse was, somehow—and Jiang Cheng wasn’t exactly sure how—knowing what the man looked like, sort of, underneath the sharp lines of that perfectly-tailored suit only made the sight all the more alluring.
Gym Guy looked up when the employee behind the counter handed him his drink, offering them a smile. It warmed his entire countenance for the brief moment it took for him to accept his drink—Jiang Cheng spotted a flash of an expensive-looking watch on the wrist of the hand he pulled out of his pocket—before he turned, drink now in hand, distracted once again by whatever was on his phone. By the time Jiang Cheng properly recovered from the sight, the man had already swept out the door.
"Earth to Jiang Cheng."
Jiang Cheng started, eyes darting back to his companion sitting across from him.
Wen Qing smirked. "Huh. Never thought the day would come when I’d witness Jiang Cheng checking someone out. Not that I blame you, though.”
"I wasn't, " he retorted. "I just recognize him is all "
She lifted a brow. "Oh? Spill."
"It's nothing interesting. We just go to the same gym. That's it."
"Like a gym buddy? That's a thing you gym freaks have, right?” Wen Qing asked. "You're so cold, Jiang Cheng. You could've at least said hi."
"No." Jiang Cheng shook his head vehemently. "He—I've. We've never talked."
"Oh?"
"What?” Jiang Cheng bristled when Wen Qing’s expression turned sly. "The hell are you giving me that look for?"
"You recognize this guy from the gym, but you've never talked to him before?"
Jiang Cheng twitched with irritation. "That's literally what I just said, yes. What's with you?"
Wen Qing simply replied with a noncommittal, “Hm.” It left Jiang Cheng feeling unsettled.
“Why do I even put up with you?” he asked.
Wen Qing didn’t even bat an eyelash. “Because you owe me,” she answered, taking a sip of her rooibos tea.
Jiang Cheng hated to admit it, but it was true; one of the reasons he’d been able to kickstart his career was the Wen siblings’ industry connections.
“Don’t scowl so much or your face will get stuck that way. Oh, wait.”
“Very funny,” Jiang Cheng huffed. He would’ve crossed his arms too but that would’ve come off as petulant.
He chanced a glance out the window, but of course Gym Guy was no longer to be seen.
“As much as I enjoy watching you regress into a lovestruck teen,” Wen Qing deadpanned, “I am starting to feel a bit snubbed.”
“If you don’t like my company,” Jiang Cheng countered, stabbing his fork into the last piece of his cheesecake, “why did you force me to meet up with you?”
“Because I feel bad for you and you need to lighten up every once in a while.”
“Wow, thanks,” Jiang Cheng said dryly. In truth, he didn’t mind hanging out with Wen Qing. She was probably the sanest one of his circle of friends. Wen Ning would be higher on the list if not for the fact that for some reason he always let himself be dragged along with Wei Ying’s antics.
“You’re welcome,” Wen Qing said loftily. After a moment of consideration she continued, “You know, I never fail to be impressed.”
“At what?”
“At how Yanli managed to get all the positive genes between the two of you.”
Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. She was right—his sister was an angel. He wasn’t about to give Wen Qing the satisfaction of feeling like she’d won, though. In one movement, he grabbed his to-go cup and stood, then strode out the door, leaving a disgruntled Wen Qing to scramble to catch up with him.
—
Lan Huan allowed a gusty sigh to leave him upon pressing send on his final email of the past three hours, stretching his neck and shoulders in an attempt to work out the stiffness that had once again settled there. He pushed back in his chair and cast his gaze over his spacious office, as barren in its furnishings as his own flat. The sun had long since gone down outside the ample glass windows and a glance at his phone informed him it was nearing eight o’clock in the evening.
A knock at his door caught his attention.
“Come in,” he called out.
“Mr. Lan?” One of his assistants stepped in with a manila folder and walked up to his desk. “I have those documents from Emerald Printing House for you.”
“Ah, they finally sent those over, I see.” Lan Huan took the folder and gave a cursory flip through the contents. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Lan. I'm sorry it took this long.”
“Please, no need to apologize. It’s not the first time Emerald has been late.” He gave his assistant a reassuring smile. “What’s more, they always insist on using fax in this day and age.”
That brought forth a bubble of laughter from her. “I’ll be heading home now, then,” she said.
“Please do. You shouldn’t be staying this late at the office anyway,” he chided gently.
“If I may say so, Mr. Lan should consider taking his own advice.” His assistant smiled and dipped her head before exiting, closing the door behind her.
Lan Huan sighed again. Easier said than done. Long hours had become the norm for him, long even before his uncle had officially stepped down as CEO and managing director of Gusu Publishing chairman of the board of directors, and Lan Huan formally took his place nearly a year ago. In reality, it had been multiple years’ worth of work that led up to this.
His lips quirked up in a wry smile. How things had changed in the mere span of ten months. All things considered, his transition from Lead Editor of a branch of Gusu Publishing to his new role—and his relocation back to the city in which its headquarters was located—had gone about as smoothly as one could hope. Still, it was more than enough to keep him busy day in and day out.
He enjoyed his work, found fulfillment in dedicating himself to the success of the company, its employees, and its clients, in continuing what his father and uncle had built. Excessive pride was no virtue, but he liked to believe that he had earned his position not through inheritance but through merit and hard work.
Yet, he cannot deny the toll it has had on his well-being. As of late, his life revolved solely around his work, more so than it ever had. Not to mention, aside from the regular get-togethers with his brother and the less-frequent ones with his uncle and extended family, he had practically no social life to speak of.
Nowadays, more often than not, his smile was replaced by a persistent furrow between his brows. While he maintained his usual calm—he took great care to make certain of that; the last thing he wanted to do was cause undue worry for his employees, or, worse, take his stress out on them—even he realized how lately he’d become almost a completely different person. Tension rested like a stone on his shoulders, tugged heavily at his features, wore at him all hours of the day.
Apparently, it had gotten so bad that his own younger brother had begun to fret. A week ago, Lan Zhan had brought up his concern over one of their usual dinners, which had begun with his brother regarding him over the dining table with an expression which Lan Huan, and few others in this world, could decipher to be of concern.
“A-Zhan, I’ve told you, there is no need to worry,” Lan Huan had assured him. “Work has been a little... demanding, as always, but it’s nothing I can’t manage.”
“Brother looks stressed. It is not good for health.”
“I will be alright. I do try to eat and sleep well.”
“Perhaps you should start exercising again,” Lan Zhan had suggested. “There is a gym which Wei Ying recommends that is not far from your office.”
“Wei Ying goes to the gym?” Lan Huan had asked, surprised. Although he’d only met his brother’s boyfriend a handful of times, he couldn’t quite picture the carefree man diligently keeping a workout routine.
Lan Zhan had adopted a complicated expression. “... Occasionally,” he’d finally replied, though the answer had itself sounded almost like a question. “It is the gym Wei Ying’s brother prefers.”
“Ah, I see.” After a moment of consideration, Lan Huan had shaken his head. “I’m not sure I can find the time,” he’d admitted, offering his brother a weak smile.
“Try,” his brother had insisted.
Which is what had brought Lan Huan to unearth his old gym bag, dusty with neglect, from the depths of a closet and sign himself up for a gym membership.
Speaking of...
7:52. Good, he still had time to drop by the gym this evening. Finally, Lan Huan powered off his computer and packed his things before making his way out of his office and to the elevators that would take him down to the garage.
Ten minutes later, he arrived at the fitness center he’d been recommended. The facility was modern, spacious, well-maintained, and had all the amenities one could ask for. It also happened to be conveniently located between his office and home and accommodated Lan Huan’s long work hours, opening early and closing late each day.
It hadn't taken him long to settle into the habit of going several times a week, usually in the evenings so he could work off some of the stress of the day before showering and then going home and dropping into bed in time for his habitual curfew of nine PM.
He had to admit, he’d missed this. Back when his schedule hadn’t been so full and his responsibilities so numerous, exercising had been a regular part of his routine, as it had been since his youth. After he’d transferred to the main office branch and into his new duties, he’d sadly fallen out of the habit. While he still made the effort to keep fit, the small exercise room in his residence building was rather limited in its offerings.
Although it wasn’t easy, consciously allotting time in his schedule to go to an actual gym again had done him good, as his brother had theorized. For an hour of his day, he could force himself to clear his mind of work and worries, and afterward he'd feel refreshed and refocused.
He’d have to thank Lan Zhan again for the suggestion, and maybe Wei Ying as well, he mused after a short but satisfying workout. Perhaps a choice gift basket would suffice?
The sound of a locker door slamming yanked him out of his thoughts.
“For the last time, there is no way in hell I’m coming over for dinner. The last thing I want is to watch you and your boyfriend hang off of each other all night!”
A pause.
“I don’t need to meet him to know that! He’s with you, after all.”
A briefer pause.
“You know very well what I mean. Besides, I’ve heard more than enough disgusting shit from you.”
Lan Huan wasn’t normally one to eavesdrop, but the irate voice carried easily around the room. Curious, he looked around for the source. Fortunately, the facility was virtually empty so it was no problem to spot the man at the opposite wall of the locker room with a towel around his neck, holding a phone to his ear.
From what Lan Huan could see, the man looked to be around his age. He was probably only several centimeters shorter than Lan Huan, with toned arms and a trim waist accentuated by his black tank top; his shorts showed off long, slim legs. His dark hair was just long enough to be tied back in a small ponytail. Loose bangs framed sharp cheekbones and an even sharper gaze, tempered by large, expressive eyes and the softness of his mouth.
Currently, that mouth was pulled downward in a truly impressive scowl.
“Don’t pull that big brother crap on me,” the man snapped at the poor person on the other end of the line, “you know that shit won’t work. Look, I’m busy right now. I’ll text you later or something.”
With that, he hung up and unceremoniously threw the phone down onto the bench next to him, still grumbling under his breath, before grabbing a bag and stalking off in the direction of the showers.
In spite of himself, Lan Huan was amused. Normally, he didn't find amusement from others' suffering, but he could tell that the grumpy stranger hadn't truly been angry. After all, his aggressive tone had hinted at an exasperated fondness.
Lan Huan changed and neatly put away his belongings, then took a few minutes to check his messages. Two new work emails (he flagged those to be read those first thing in the morning), a text from his brother confirming their lunch plans for next week (he sent back a smiling emoji), and a text from his uncle checking in on him (he replied with an assurance that everything was going fine).
Footsteps rang out from around the corner. The man from earlier was back, now sitting on a bench and bent over to rifle through the black gym bag bracketed between those long legs. With brusque, efficient motions, he tied his still-damp hair back up, re-exposing the graceful line of his nape, which the wide collar of the loose-fitting violet sweater he'd changed into only emphasized. He didn't even seem to have noticed Lan Huan in the corner, appearing preoccupied, his dark brows knit low over his eyes. Before long, he'd grabbed his stuff and was out the door as swiftly as he'd entered.
Lan Huan had just slung his own bag over his shoulder when he spotted it out of the corner of his eye. On the bench the man had vacated was a phone. Its screen brightened when Lan Huan walked over and grabbed it, displaying an off-centered photo of a grinning black and white dog. Flipping it over revealed a simple lotus pattern adorning the purple case.
If he hurried, surely he’d be able to catch up to that man.
Resolved, Lan Huan took long, swift strides toward the exit, pushing out of the wide glass doors and casting a look around. To his relief, he spotted a familiar violet back against the dusky pink sky.
“Excuse me!”
The man spun around at his call, eyes widening when he saw Lan Huan walking purposefully up to him.
“I apologize for the interruption,” Lan Huan said with a pleasant smile, “but I believe you left this behind.”
The man’s gaze dropped to Lan Huan’s outstretched hand.
“Oh. Yeah, that’s—” He walked up and took the phone from him, eyes flicking back up to Lan Huan. Their color was a stormy gray that caught the dwindling light in the loveliest of ways. “It’s mine, yeah. Thanks,” he finished, his expression smoothing out a little from the frown it had sported previously.
It was a little amusing to see him behaving so mildly after that earlier display. His voice, no longer colored with irritation, was low and just a bit rough. Lan Huan thought privately that he liked it quite a lot. Before he could stop himself, he found himself asking, “Is that your dog?”
“What?” Those eyebrows drew together again in confusion.
Lan Huan gestured at the phone that was back in its owner’s hands. “The one in your lock screen background. The screen lit up when I picked it up,” he explained.
“Oh,” the man repeated, blinking a little as if confused. “It’s, uh, my nephew’s, actually.”
“A Husky, right?” Lan Huan asked. “It’s very cute.”
“Husky Malamute mix, technically. But she’s more Husky than Malamute, we think, though she certainly howls enough to be a Malamute.” The man cleared his throat, fidgeting a little. “My nephew set that as my wallpaper and I haven’t bothered to change it yet."
He seemed unable to meet Lan Huan's eyes after disclosing all of that. Despite himself, Lan Huan's smile deepened.
"Anyway, thanks again for—" The man waved his phone a little. "I, uh, appreciate it."
“I assure you, it was no trouble at all…” Lan Huan trailed off meaningfully.
The man finally looked him in the face again, blinking some more. “Uh. My name is Jiang Cheng.”
“It was no trouble at all, Jiang Cheng,” Lan Huan continued. “I’m Lan Huan. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
He offered his hand again, this time empty. Jiang Cheng frowned a little but accepted the handshake nonetheless, their palms slotting nicely together.
“You too,” Jiang Cheng replied, pulling away first. His lips quirked in a brief, tiny smile. "Uh, see you, I guess." He dipped his head at Lan Huan in a polite nod before turning and walking off, one hand clutching the strap of his gym bag.
It took the buzzing of Lan Huan’s own phone in his pocket grabbing his attention to make him realize he’d been standing in the same spot a little too long.
—
“Jiang Cheng!”
Biting back a startled curse, Jiang Cheng whipped to face the direction of the somewhat-familiar voice.
“Good evening,” Gym Guy—Lan Huan—said, flashing him a beatific smile.
Jiang Cheng recovered from his shock enough to respond, “Uh. Hey.”
Fuck. Great job, Jiang Cheng. Very eloquent.
Lan Huan didn’t seem bothered by the clumsiness of his response, instead dropping his own white and blue sports bag down next to Jiang Cheng’s.
“It would seem that we have similar workout schedules, don’t we?” he remarked cheerily. “I’m glad we can bump into each other like this.”
Jiang Cheng squinted at him, partly because he couldn’t believe that Lan Huan could be this happy to see someone he had just met—especially someone like Jiang Cheng, who was notoriously good at scaring people off with his face alone—and partly because the other man was positively radiant.
Was it possible for a smile to be this bright? If someone had asked Jiang Cheng before he would have laughed in their face, but now all he could do was stand there and let himself be slowly blinded.
He’d thought maybe things would get better now that Lan Huan was no longer this mysterious, nameless stranger. Maybe now his brain would snap out of whatever weird thirst setting it had accidentally gotten stuck in and recalibrate itself.
God, it was so much worse.
Because now that Lan Huan was aware of him, Jiang Cheng had to try even harder not to ogle like a total creep while feeling massively more guilty about doing so because Lan Huan was actually a really good person.
He was patient, polite, and kind. He was actually able to hold a conversation with Jiang Cheng without being completely turned off by his personality. His amiableness made up for Jiang Cheng's lack of skill and patience for making small talk, and Jiang Cheng found that he didn't mind talking to him.
Lan Huan always stopped to greet him whenever they saw each other in the changing rooms, and once when Jiang Cheng had walked in while he was on the bench press he’d paused what he was doing—specifically, holding aloft roughly three hundred pounds—to meet Jiang Cheng’s eyes and smile at him.
He was going to die and he was going to die a pathetic, horny mess, and if his brother ever found out about this he was going to laugh at Jiang Cheng all the way into the afterlife.
—
The next time he saw Lan Huan was a week later. He’d had a good workout session; Lan Huan had happened to be there as well but Jiang Cheng had miraculously managed to keep it together. As always, the other man stopped to chat with him afterward.
“Jiang Cheng!” he gave him a little wave along with his signature smile. “I haven’t seen you in a few days. I was starting to get a little concerned.”
Jiang Cheng blinked. He wasn’t used to people being concerned about him, much less someone who’d only known him for a few weeks. "Sorry, I was out of town for a consultation for a client,” he explained. It had been a nice reprieve from the miniature internal crisis he’d been having. In fact, he felt much better now, like his brain was no longer going to turn to mush whenever he thought of the other man.
“May I have your number?” Lan Huan asked.
“Huh?” Jiang Cheng responded intelligently.
“So that we can keep in touch next time. If you're alright with that, of course.” Lan Huan was still smiling like it was completely normal for him to ask for Jiang Cheng’s number out of the blue. Which it was. It was totally normal for acquaintances-slash-possibly-friends to exchange numbers, Jiang Cheng reasoned.
“Um, sure, I suppose.”
“Great!” Lan Huan pulled his cellphone from his pocket and typed Jiang Cheng’s number into it when Jiang Cheng recited it for him.
No sooner had Lan Huan finished than he asked, “Would you like to grab some coffee? I’d love to catch up.”
“Coffee?” Jiang Cheng repeated, frowning. “... It’s 8 PM.”
“Ah, you’re right.” The other man visibly drooped a little.
Jiang Cheng’s heart jumped into his throat, and he rushed to add, “M-maybe something without caffeine.”
Lan Huan brightened.
Jiang Cheng swore inwardly. What was he getting himself into?
—
It had been a little bold of him, Lan Huan knew, to ask for Jiang Cheng’s number so suddenly. However, he most certainly did not regret it, especially since he got to see the other man’s cheeks flush ever so faintly when he’d asked. It was utterly charming and prompted Lan Huan to follow up with asking Jiang Cheng to grab a drink with him.
They’d stopped by a cafe next to the gym, settling themselves down at a small table in the corner, Lan Huan with a cup of green tea and Jiang Cheng with a fruit smoothie that Lan Huan had insisted on paying for, since he’d been the one to invite him.
He learned that Jiang Cheng was 30—four years younger than Lan Huan—and worked as an independent interior designer. He also volunteered as a youth swim instructor at a public pool once a week.
"My family owns Gusu Publishing,” Lan Huan told him. “We specialize in literature and non-fiction but we do branch into other genres, including comics and children's books. I’d been managing a branch a few cities over for several years, but I formally took over as managing director about a year ago, which is when I relocated here, where the headquarters are.”
"Gusu Publishing?" Jiang Cheng's bangs fell a little over the eyes when he tilted his head. "I don't read all that much but I've heard that name before. That must mean it's well-known, right?"
"We do well enough."
Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. "Why do I get the feeling you're just being humble?"
“There’s nothing wrong with being humble,” Lan Huan said placidly.
Maybe Lan Huan was starved for social interaction, but Jiang Cheng was a breath of fresh air. The other man was gruff without being cruel, a little grumpy but well-meaning, and his tongue was as sharp as his glare. Lan Huan found all of it rather charming. And, beyond personality—
Well, truthfully, Jiang Cheng was possibly one of the prettiest people Lan Huan had ever laid his eyes on, but he figured it was probably best to withhold that particular thought, for now.
“Thank you,” Lan Huan said.
Jiang Cheng’s brow furrowed. “For what?”
“Accepting my invitation. I must admit it’s been a while since I’ve been able to talk with someone like this, aside from my brother.”
“Seriously?” Jiang Cheng looked disbelieving. “What about your friends? I’d thought someone like you would be a social butterfly.”
“Someone like me?” Lan Huan repeated.
“You know,” Jiang Cheng replied and gestured vaguely at all of Lan Huan.
Lan Huan did not in fact know, but he continued nonetheless, “Like I said, I’d been away from this city for some time so I don’t know many people here who aren’t family. And, well, my work keeps me busy.” The other people he considered his close friends were halfway across the country dealing with their own business.
Jiang Cheng frowned. “Huh. Well. I’m not the best company, but if you want to chat, you have my number,” he offered.
Lan Huan beamed. “Jiang Cheng, I think you’re excellent company. Thank you.”
Jiang Cheng did that thing where his eyes narrowed like he didn’t believe him and his expression fell into a small pout. Lan Huan thought it was adorable.
He would’ve gladly spent more time with Jiang Cheng, but sadly it had been late and he’d had work the next day, and so he’d reluctantly parted ways with him, but not before getting the other man to promise to meet with him again that weekend.
—
On Sunday, Jiang Cheng sauntered up to their meeting spot wearing a baggy lavender v-neck t-shirt, hands shoved inside the pockets of torn gray skinny jeans that were stuffed into combat boots. His dark hair was in its usual short ponytail, his long bangs falling loosely down the sides of his face and occasionally fluttering over his eyes.
Lan Huan was there already, having arrived a few minutes early, and he smiled warmly when the shorter man approached.
“What’re you all dressed up for?” were the first words that left Jiang Cheng’s mouth.
Lan Huan looked down at himself: a white sports jacket, unbuttoned, over a simple baby blue t-shirt and white slacks. He’d opted to tie his long hair back in a low, loose ponytail. “Dressed up? Am I?”
Jiang Cheng frowned at him then shook his head. “Whatever,” he grumbled. “This brunch place you mentioned better be good.”
Lan Huan simply smiled and opened the door to the building behind them, holding it open for the other man. “Through here. After you.”
They entered a large bookstore, wide and well-lit. Lan Huan’s eyes caught on a display near the entrance—a banner and stand promoting the release of a new novel.
Noticing this, Jiang Cheng nodded at it and asked, “Is that one of yours?”
“If you mean one of the authors I’ve worked with, then yes,” Lan Huan answered. He smiled, feeling a little wistful. “I always enjoyed reading her work. She’s quite brilliant and her novels are always refreshing. Alas, I don't do much editing personally these days.” He gestured toward the display. “One of my mentees worked with her on this particular publication.”
Jiang Cheng hummed. “And you’re okay with that?”
Lan Huan hesitated, a little thrown by the question. “Yes,” he replied, “it’s only natural. It’s still fulfilling, what I do now, just somewhat different. Fortunately, I still have the opportunity to work with authors, even if it’s more indirectly.”
Jiang Cheng gave him a sidelong, appraising look. “I bet you write yourself, don't you?”
Lan Huan smiled. “In the interest of full disclosure, I have, on occasion. I publish under a pen name, though.”
Jiang Cheng cocked a brow when Lan Huan said no more and simply smiled at him. “What, now you’re choosing to play coy?” he huffed. “What happened to ‘full disclosure’?”
Lan Huan just laughed. “Come, let’s get something to eat. I'm famished. The cafe on this floor is quite nice.”
He led them through the bookstore until they reached the opposite end, which connected to a larger commercial center. Shortly after, they reached their destination, a cafe tucked into a quiet corner of the mall. Through the glass storefront, one could see a sun-lit interior covered from floor to ceiling with greenery.
“Huh. Didn’t know there was a place like this here,” Jiang Cheng remarked as they entered.
“I’ve come here several times before. The ambiance is quite relaxing, no?”
Lan Huan gave his name to the employee who greeted them, and she promptly began leading them toward their table.
“Hmm, interesting decorative choices. The glass and clean geometric lines work well with the organicness of the strong natural floral theme.” Jiang Cheng seemed to be muttering partly to himself as he looked around the space.
Lan Huan smiled fondly and laid a hand lightly on Jiang Cheng’s back to guide him. The younger man didn’t seem to notice until they’d reached their table and Lan Huan pulled away, at which point he startled slightly but didn’t comment.
As soon as they sat down, Jiang Cheng leveled a glare at him over the table, his flinty gray eyes narrowed.
“Jiang Cheng? What’s wrong?” Lan Huan asked, slightly anxious.
“I should’ve known ‘grabbing a bite to eat’ would mean some fancy-ass place like this for you.”
“Fancy? I don’t think so. Is this place not to Jiang Cheng’s tastes?”
“That’s not it,” Jiang Cheng huffed and grabbed a menu. “Ugh. You’re just. So.”
“So…?”
Jiang Cheng scowled. “Nevermind, it’s nothing. Just. Warn a guy, will you?”
“I’m sorry, Jiang Cheng. I don’t know what you mean.” He truly didn’t. “If it helps, I can tell you the name of the place ahead of time, next time?”
Jiang Cheng stubbornly kept his eyes trained on his menu. For some reason, a faint flush of red had risen to those sharp cheeks, the color intensifying by the second.
“Quit staring.” His growl broke Lan Huan out of his train of thought.
“My apologies,” Lan Huan said, feeling oddly giddy.
Not a minute after they’d placed their orders, Lan Huan’s phone went off in his pocket. Pulling it from his breast pocket, he checked the screen.
“Ah, sorry, I have to take this. It won’t take long.” Giving Jiang Cheng an apologetic smile, he stood and walked a few steps away before picking up.
"Mr. Lan? Apologies for call, but production just sent word that they’re experiencing delays for some of the modern lit printings, which puts some of the first wave of autumn releases at risk—”
Lan Huan took a breath and pitched his voice into a soothing tone to reply, “There’s no need to panic. I’m sure we can find a workaround. What about New Moon? They have a good track record of fulfilling requests with a short turnaround…"
A few minutes later, he ended the call and walked back to the table.
“I’m so sorry, Jiang Cheng,” he apologized again, sliding back into his seat.
Jiang Cheng shook his head. “Hey, it’s okay. I get it. I’m a workaholic too.”
“It’s no excuse for poor manners, though,” Lan Huan insisted.
“I told you, it’s fine. Does this happen a lot? You getting calls about work outside of work hours, I mean."
“Ah. Sometimes,” Lan Huan replied sheepishly. “It's not so bad. Besides, being managing director means that standard work hours don't really apply."
“You shouldn’t have to deal with everything yourself, though, right?” Jiang Cheng asked, mouth pulled in a frown. “Sounds like you need to delegate more responsibility to your staff. Or do you not think they’re competent enough?”
“No, no, it’s not that. They are very good at their jobs and I trust them. But, as managing director I should be able to handle these sorts of situations. It’s my job to ensure things run smoothly.”
“Being new to your role and all, you feel responsible for anything that goes wrong, yeah?” Jiang Cheng said.
“I… I hadn't quite thought of it that way,” Lan Huan admitted.
“No one’s gonna think less of you, Mr. CEO, if you rely on your staff a little more. That’s what their job is: to support you.”
“I don’t want to burden them with matters I ought to be able to handle myself.”
“So instead you’re taking everything onto your own plate and burning yourself out in the process,” Jiang Cheng said bluntly, “because you feel like to do otherwise would be a reflection of your own lack of ability.”
Lan Huan blinked. No one had put it in quite so direct a manner to his face before, not even his own uncle. Ruminating on Jiang Cheng's words, he had to admit that the other man had a point. Had Lan Huan been seeking to prove himself, at the expense of his own health, all this time?
In the extended moment of quiet, Jiang Cheng appeared to shrink on himself a little.
“Sorry,” he murmured, averting his eyes. “I shouldn’t butt in. I—I don’t mean to offend. I know that I can be kinda… ” He trailed off, fidgeting with the edge of his napkin.
“No, you didn’t offend me at all,” Lan Huan hurried to reassure him. “I truly appreciate your advice, Jiang Cheng. You—you’re right.” Lan Huan met his gaze, hoping that his sincerity would be conveyed. “Thank you.”
Jiang Cheng looked taken aback. “Y-you don't have to thank me,” he stammered. “Just—take care of yourself. You’re no good to your company all overworked and ragged as shit.”
Lan Huan felt himself smile. “Jiang Cheng’s words make me happy. I will take them to heart. Thank you.”
“Wha—I told you to stop thanking me!”
—
Jiang Cheng woke up to two unread texts, one from his brother that he didn’t bother to check and one from Lan Huan. He triple read the message to make sure he’d read it properly and Lan Huan was in fact inviting him over for lunch that day.
He had.
He rolled over and groaned. Maybe he should decline. If he were honest with himself, whatever it was that he felt for the other man had long since progressed past the purely physical. In the weeks of interactions, and then that weird, not-date lunch the other week, Lan Huan had somehow wormed his way into Jiang Cheng’s heart, which he had long believed to be withered and incapable of dumb crushes.
But.
He was pretty sure Lan Huan felt something for him too. Jiang Cheng may be dense, as Wei Ying liked to point out, but he wasn’t utterly obtuse. Or, maybe he was and he was going to make a fool of himself in front of Lan Huan—sweet, handsome, modest, lonely Lan Huan.
If Jiang Cheng declined his invitation for no reason other than his own insecurities, he truly would be the worst person in the world.
He rolled over again and let out another groan, this time muffled into his pillow.
Two hours later, he was standing at the door to Lan Huan’s flat on the 38th floor of a sleek highrise building, a tote bag gripped in one hand.
Lan Huan had admitted to him that when he bothered to cook for himself, it was little more than plain congee and simple dishes of tofu and pickled vegetables. When Jiang Cheng had heard that, he’d offered to teach him a recipe taught to him by his sister—one of his favorites, delicious yet easy to prepare.
Before he could raise a fist to knock, the door had already swung open.
“Jiang Cheng!” Lan Huan greeted him with a smile and ushered him inside. He was wearing a white cotton t-shirt like the first time Jiang Cheng had seen him, and nice gray slacks. His glossy hair was tied back, not a strand out of place. “Thank you for coming over. I hope you didn’t have any trouble finding the place?”
“No, it was fine,” Jiang Cheng replied, suddenly nervous.
Lan Huan took the bag from him and gestured to the couch. “Please, sit, I’ll brew some tea for us.”
Jiang Cheng sat, resisting the urge to fidget and distracting himself by looking around the spacious flat. It was an open-space layout; from his spot on the couch, he could see Lan Huan move about the kitchen and setting water out to boil. The rest of the space was tastefully but minimally furnished in muted grays and blues, with a handful of elegant pieces of art mounted on the walls. The most outstanding items were a massive mahogany bookshelf that took up almost an entire wall, and a corner with a floor cushion and an instrument.
"Is that...?"
Hearing him, Lan Huan followed his gaze to the other end of the room. "Ah, my guqin. Do you play?"
"Nah. Just didn't know you did."
"I'm a bit out of practice, but yes. It helps calm me. I'm trained in the xiao and piano as well."
Jiang Cheng crossed his arms. "You write, you play instruments. Let me guess, you paint, too?" he scoffed.
Lan Huan hesitated. "Well…"
Jiang Cheng shook his head. "Nuh uh, I don't wanna hear it."
“Alright,” Lan Huan laughed. He walked back to him carrying a tray with two cups of fresh tea. "Well, since I shouldn’t talk about myself,” he said, placing the tray on the coffee table, “tell me about your work.”
“I told you I’m an interior designer, right?” Jiang Cheng began. When Lan Huan nodded, he continued, “The title is a little misleading. I’ve done standard personal interior design consultations in the past but my focus is on larger-scale projects. Like, exhibitions and public or commercial spaces.”
“May I see some examples?”
Jiang Cheng narrowed his eyes at him. “You’re a nosy bastard, aren't you?”
Lan Huan smiled. “I just want to know more about you. You can refuse.”
Jiang Cheng shook his head. “Nah, it’s not a big deal.” He took out his phone and swiped through it until he found some sketches, mockups, and photos. “Here. These are from some of the projects I’ve completed recently.”
Rather than take the phone from him, Lan Huan leaned over by his shoulder so that he could see the screen, letting Jiang Cheng show him what he wanted.
“These are amazing, Jiang Cheng,” he commented.
Jiang Cheng felt his ears heat. “There’s no need to exaggerate,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings, you know. I’m a grown man.”
Lan Huan laughed warmly, the sound right next to Jiang Cheng’s ear. “I’m simply being honest. I can tell you’re very adept at what you do from just these examples. You have a great eye for space and style.”
Jiang Cheng cleared his throat and pulled away, returning his phone to his pocket and grabbing one of the cups. The back of his neck felt like it was burning.
Lan Huan shifted back to give him space. “Have you been doing it this long?” he asked.
“Nah," Jiang Cheng answered, sipping his tea. It was hot but not too hot, and tasted faintly vegetal with a hint of jasmine. "I used to practice law, actually, up until three years ago."
"Oh?"
Jiang Cheng smirked a little. “You sound surprised.”
“Just at how different it is from your current line of work.” Lan Huan tilted his head in a thoughtful manner. “I can imagine it, though.”
Jiang Cheng raised a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing bad,” Lan Huan assured him with a smile.
“Hmph. Yeah, I was an attorney with my father's firm."
"If you don't mind my prying," Lan Huan said carefully, "may I ask why you stopped?"
When Jiang Cheng hesitated, he quickly added, "If you're not comfortable disclosing, I understand."
"No, it's—" Jiang Cheng looked away, his jaw working as he struggled to find the right words. He hadn’t talked about this in a long time, and he never had a gift with words to begin with.
Lan Huan stayed quiet, waiting patiently for him to continue.
Abruptly, Jiang Cheng set his cup down on the coffee table and said, "I joined my father’s firm right out of law school, along with my adopted brother. I was, you know, decent at it, I think. My record was pretty good. Worked my ass off. I was set to make partner at some point—family business and all. My father never really made it clear when, just that it would happen eventually. I understood, though. Making partner is a big deal, even if it was more a formality in my case. I was young and inexperienced, and the timing was never right anyway.”
He paused, gaze trained on where he'd started worrying at a loose thread in the hem of his shirt.
“My brother made partner in four years,” he said tonelessly. “I don’t know how long it would’ve taken me because I left shortly after that." He shook his head and finally looked up, finally meeting Lan Huan’s gaze. “God, it sounds petty but it wasn’t—it wasn’t because of that, Lan Huan! My brother’s good at what he does. He—he deserved it.”
“I believe you,” Lan Huan replied firmly.
Jiang Cheng continued, “It sounds dumb but I finally realized I was deeply unhappy. You’d think I would’ve figured it out sooner in the years I spent hating what I was doing. Hating the reason I was doing what I was doing, that I felt like I was always trying to catch up.”
That he felt like he had to prove himself to everyone around him. That he was never good enough, no matter how many hours he put in or cases he won, in spite of nearly working himself to the ground.
He grimaced. “I guess it just took yet another shortcoming for me to finally pull my head out of my ass enough to walk away from it.”
“Jiang Cheng…”
He looked off to the side. “It’s fine. I’ve made my peace with it.” A lie, Jiang Cheng was aware, but the other man didn’t need to know that.
Lan Huan didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press the subject. Instead, he asked softly, “How did your family take it?”
“My parents divorced not long before. Honestly, I’m surprised they didn’t sooner, when we were younger. I guess my mother finally had enough. She—I think she never liked the situation I was in, either, but she disliked the thought of me backing out more, especially after all those years of law school. She scolded me over the phone for three hours, the day after.” He huffed out a dry chuckle. “But I think she probably knew it was inevitable. And my father—”
Jiang Cheng cut off, mouth twisting harshly.
“—I couldn't tell if he gave a shit at all.” He lifted and dropped his shoulders in a jerky shrug. “Maybe he was disappointed that I was a quitter. Maybe he was even relieved to be rid of me, fuck if I know. I haven't spoken to him since.”
The quiet stretched on for several moments. Already, Jiang Cheng was regretting having blurted out so much already. He was about to say something, anything, to break the silence but Lan Huan beat him to it.
"My parents passed away when my younger brother and I were very young, my father a year after my mother. I was nine."
Jiang Cheng stiffened. "Shit, Lan Huan, I'm sorry—"
Lan Huan shook his head. "Shh, no, it's okay. We barely knew them, or were allowed to see them. They chose to be… distant for their own reasons."
A shadow passed over Lan Huan's face, his eyes distant. Unthinkingly, Jiang Cheng grabbed his hand. "Lan Huan—"
Lan Huan cut him off once again, turning the hand that was in Jiang Cheng’s clumsy grasp to intertwine their fingers. "Shh, shh, listen, Jiang Cheng. My brother and I were fortunate to be raised well by our uncle. He was strict—us Lans tend to be—but he loved us dearly and he tried to provide for us to the best of his ability. He still does.
"Family isn't perfect. Even if they love us very much or have good intentions, they, like anybody else, can hurt us. And when they do, the hurt is worse because they are so close to our hearts. And sometimes we let them hurt us, because they are family—but that doesn't make it right. It took me a long time to come to terms with that.
“I don’t think what you did makes you a quitter. In fact, I think it’s admirable.” He placed his other hand on Jiang Cheng’s arm and peered into his face. “And I’m not just saying that, Jiang Cheng. It takes a lot of courage to realize that you are in an unhappy place, and more so to walk away from it after so many years despite your family.”
Jiang Cheng's gaze stayed fixed on their entwined hands. He’d considered moving away from the city entirely. But, Yanli and Jin Ling were here, and Wei Ying, and he couldn't—didn’t want to—leave them.
"You say that,” Jiang Cheng muttered, shaking his head, “but I was a total mess after."
Nearly giving into self-destructive tendencies. Holing himself up at home. Working out to the point of nausea. It had taken him a full year before he was able to have a civil conversation with Wei Ying that didn't devolve into yelling or sometimes tears, usually because Jiang Cheng was a caustic bastard who had never been good with words that mattered. He'd been bitter and lost and so angry—at his father, at his brother, but most of all at himself.
He owed a debt of gratitude to the Wen siblings who had helped him rethink his career, helping him put his design minor to use and get his license with their connections.
"Are you better now?"
"... Somewhat, yeah."
Lan Huan squeezed his hand lightly. "See? Admirable."
He shook his head. “I don’t know about ‘admirable’, or whatever,” he said finally, “but thanks.”
"You've rebuilt so much for yourself, by yourself. If that isn't admirable, I don't know what is."
Jiang Cheng’s chest felt tight. Lan Huan was truly a good man. He didn’t deserve—
He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Can’t believe I unloaded all of that bullshit on you, sorry—”
“Jiang Cheng,” Lan Huan interrupted again firmly before Jiang Cheng continued to spiral. His thumb rubbed soothingly over Jiang Cheng’s knuckles. “I’m happy you trust me enough to tell me, and I’m glad to understand you better. If you must apologize, then so must I for burdening you with my baggage.”
Jiang Cheng shook his head emphatically. “Never,” he said, surprising even himself at how much he meant it.
Lan Huan reached out and ran his thumb gently over the ridge between Jiang Cheng’s brows until it smoothed out. There was barely any space between them now, and Jiang Cheng belatedly realized they were still holding hands, yet he didn’t feel the urge to flinch away. Lan Huan was regarding him with an almost dazed expression, and he wondered what the other man could see on his own face. The thought both terrified and thrilled him.
Leaning in, Lan Huan brushed a lock of Jiang Cheng’s bangs away from his eyes with gentle fingers. Jiang Cheng barely kept himself from jerking away from the unexpected feeling of lips grazing his ear.
“Jiang Cheng,” Lan Huan whispered, the words as warm as his breath, “I really like you.”
Jiang Cheng’s eyes widened in surprise as his traitor of a heart lurched.
Lan Huan looked almost bashful at the confession, amber eyes dipping down then back up. He continued, "I know we've only known each other a short time, but you've brought light into my life."
"That’s just because you have no other social life," Jiang Cheng couldn't stop himself from pointing out.
Lan Huan’s mouth curved in an amused smile. "That's not it, although I do appreciate you keeping me company.” He brought their clasped hands up to his lips and brushed a feather-light kiss over Jiang Cheng’s knuckles. “You're an amazing person. I can't stop thinking about you. You're dedicated, you're passionate, candid, strong-willed, very handsome, too—"
"Okay, okay— I get it!" Jiang Cheng cut him off, flushed to the roots of his hair. He tried to tug his hand away but Lan Huan’s grip was firm. Taking a breath, he set his jaw and squared his shoulders.
Lan Huan finally released his hand, his smile slipping when Jiang Cheng leveled him with an intense look. “Jiang Cheng—?”
“I already like you, too,” Jiang Cheng said, “so there’s no need for such sappy-ass confessions, alright?”
For a second, Lan Huan simply sat there, stunned, before his smile returned with full force. “On the contrary, that’s all the more reason for sappy confessions.”
“Hah? What kind of shitty logic is that?”
“There’s nothing wrong with my logic, Jiang Cheng. You’re worth all the sappy confessions in the universe. The sappiest.”
“Shut up!” Jiang Cheng stood abruptly, face ablaze, and stalked away. Fuck, this man was a menace.
“Jiang Cheng?” Lan Huan’s voice called out to him, tinged with confusion.
Not looking back, Jiang Cheng snapped, “Didn’t you want to learn how to make lotus root soup? Do you expect to do that from the couch?”
A few moments later, an arm snaked around his waist and soft lips pressed chastely against his warm cheek.
“I’ll be the best pupil Jiang-laoshi has ever seen,” Lan Huan murmured against his ear.
“Jiang-laoshi would prefer if you let him go!”