Chapter Text
Every day at noon, Lan Xichen flips the open sign and locks the door to his music studio. He walks down the block toward Sihai Park, stopping at the restaurant a few doors down to buy half a dozen pork and chive dumplings to accompany the pastry he made over the weekend. Today, he has an apple turnover carefully wrapped in waxed paper.
His favorite spot, a bench under the spreading banyan tree at the center of the park, is unoccupied, and he settles down to enjoy his lunch. Sometimes he reads a book, but today, he enjoys the unusually cool breeze, the relief from the late summer heat and humidity. Children play on the swings and clamber over the bars of the jungle gym, enjoying the last few precious days of freedom before the new school year begins. Xichen smiles to himself as they play. He himself is rather looking forward to the start of the school year, to having his mornings back, with only a few classes of musical play for toddlers. He makes a mental note to ask his assistant, Luo Qian, to order new rhythm blocks and to sanitize the bells and tambourines they do have in preparation.
He’s so absorbed in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice the little boy standing in front of him until the boy shouts, “Hey!”
“Oh.” Xichen blinks. “Hello.”
The boy, no more than six years old, glares at him. There’s no other word for that look. He hides a smile as the boy, dressed head to toe in bright yellow, like a duckling, clearly wants Xichen to be scared of him, although it’s hard to be intimidated by the chubbiest cheeks he’s ever seen.
“Why are you eating alone?” the boy asks.
Xichen shrugs. “I don’t have anyone to eat with.”
“Then how will you learn to share?”
Xichen smiles then. The lad is clearly parroting something he’s heard before.
“That’s a good question.” He sets his dumplings aside and takes the apple turnover from his bag. “Would you like to try some of my dessert?”
The boy looks Xichen up and down, and by the time he’s climbed up on the bench beside him, Xichen feels as though his very soul has been weighed and measured, and he’s profoundly relieved to have been deemed acceptable. He breaks off a piece of the turnover and hands it to the child.
“Thank you,” the boy says seriously before jamming the whole chunk of turnover into his mouth.
“You’re most welcome.” Xichen tears a piece off for himself and takes a careful bite. “Are you here alone, Mr…?”
“Jin Ling!” A tall man, possibly the most handsome man Xichen has ever seen — stormy gray eyes and cheekbones that could cut glass — strides across the park towards them. “Jin Ling, you rotten little—“
The boy, Jin Ling, sighs and hops off the bench, brushing his hands on his shorts. The man drops to his knees and takes hold of the boy’s arms. For a moment, Xichen is afraid he’s going to have to stop the man from hitting the boy, but the man wraps Jin Ling in a tight embrace.
“What have I told you about wandering off?” His voice shakes, not with anger, Xichen realizes, but with worry.
“Sorry, Jiujiu,” Jin Ling says. He wraps his short little arms around the man’s neck and hugs him back. “I was tryin’ to make a friend, like you told me.”
The man looks up at Xichen and pales. “I meant one of the other kids on the playground.” He hugs the boy tightly. “Sorry to bother you,” he says to Xichen.
“Oh, it’s not a bother at all,” Xichen assures him. He holds out the remainder of his turnover. “Would you care to have some?”
The man rolls his eyes. “He was begging food off you?”
“Oh, no, he was perfectly polite. Really, have some.”
The man takes the pastry. “Thanks,” he says, gruff but much less wary. He takes a bite and his eyes widen in surprise. “This is really good!”
Jin Ling turns back to Xichen. “Excuse me, but where did you buy it?”
“I made it actually,” Xichen replies.
The boy’s jaw drops. “Teach Jiujiu how to make it! Please!” he adds when the man hushes him. “Jiujiu makes really good dinner, but we never have dessert.”
“Jin Ling!”
“I wouldn’t mind at all, but don’t you think you should ask your…”
“Jiang Cheng,” the man says. “I’m his uncle.”
Xichen smiles at him. “Don’t you think you should ask your uncle first? I don’t know what plans he has.”
“And we don’t know what plans…” He looks at Xichen.
“Lan Xichen.”
“We don’t know what Mr. Lan has to do with his time.”
“Call me Xichen,” he says. “And I would love to, although I confess, I’m just learning how to do this myself.” He folds the wrapper up and tucks it in his back. “I’m working through a pastry cookbook that my brother gave me on the weekends.”
“Can we please, Jiujiu? Tell him to come over, please!”
“We don’t have an oven, Jin Ling.”
“Oh, I do,” Xichen says quickly when he notices Jin Ling’s lower lip begin to wobble. “And I’m free Sunday if you are.”
Jiang Cheng sighs, clearly unsure about the idea of bringing his nephew to a stranger’s house. Xichen takes his phone from his bag.
“Here,” he says, showing Jiang Cheng a QR code. “You can add me on WeChat. I’ll send you my address and you can ask me any questions you want before you make up your mind. I’d stay to talk more, but I have to get back to work.”
“Please, Jiujiu? We are making friends!”
Jiang Cheng sighs again, but he takes out his own phone and scans Xichen’s code. “We should get going, too. I have class in another hour, and we need to get you over to Auntie’s for the afternoon.” He takes Jin Ling’s hand and pockets his phone. “Thank you for the offer, of the snack and to show us how to make them,” Jiang Cheng says. He fiddles with the ring on his index finger. “I’ll, uh, I’ll message you later about the details.”
Xichen stands and offers his hand for Jiang Cheng to shake. “I look forward to it,” he says. He smiles down at Jin Ling. “Thank you for your company today, Master Jin. It made my lunch break very enjoyable.”
Jin Ling smiles a gap-toothed grin. “You’re welcome! See ya soon!”
Xichen looks directly at Jiang Cheng when he answers, “I very much hope so.”