Chapter Text
Jin Zixuan was usually not in a position to go home early, and today was no exception. Still, he made it back to the house a couple of hours before his fiance. Jiang Cheng came home, scowling, just before nine o’clock.
“Dinner’s in the oven,” Jin Zixuan said, popping out of his… their… his… the bedroom. Jiang Cheng nodded. His hands were fisted by his sides and his lips were pressed together, white. “Bad day?”
Jiang Cheng nodded stiffly, and relaxed his hands with visible effort. “Family stuff,” he bit out, and then because he was the grumpiest, politest man Jin Zixuan knew, ground his teeth and said “Thank you for dinner.”
Jin Zixuan hesitated. “Do you want…” he started. They’d only been doing this thing for a few weeks, always on a Friday or Saturday night. Jin Zixuan was surprised how much he’d grown to crave it, looking after A-Cheng, but he wasn’t sure if Jiang Cheng felt the same. “Do you want to be good for me?”
Jiang Cheng looked up at him, a desperate light in his eyes. “Yes, please,” he said, his voice suddenly smaller and softer, no longer snarling and booming. “Please.”
“Okay,” Jin Zixuan said, and came to give Jiang Cheng the kiss hello he’d wanted to. Jiang Cheng sighed into his mouth when Jin Zixuan carefully pet over his sides and ran his fingers along Jiang Cheng’s jawline. It made Jin Zixuan smile. “Already so good, A-Cheng,” he said, and Jiang Cheng bit off a small noise. “Go take your clothes off, and then you can bring me whatever you want me to use, and we’ll try what we talked about on Sunday. Is that okay?”
“Yes, please,” Jiang Cheng said, in the same quiet, relieved voice, and tilted his face to be kissed again. He padded off and the sink in their ensuite started running. Jin Zixuan grabbed his plate out of the oven and set it on the coffee table, closed the curtains and tossed a pillow on the floor.
Jiang Cheng came back quickly, naked and carrying hanks of rope. Jin Zixuan’s stomach twisted, hot, at the sight of him. “Fuck, you look good,” Jin Zixuan said, and Jiang Cheng ducked his head and blushed. “Did you eat?”
“Wasn’t hungry.”
“Okay, you have to eat something,” Jin Zixuan said, and pointed at the plate.
Jiang Cheng made a token grumble, and then his stomach growled. Jin Zixuan laid out what Jiang Cheng had brought on the coffee table: several neat coils of rope and a paddle. “Is that okay?” Jiang Cheng asked, his brow furrowing. He set his fork down and pushed the plate away.
“Of course,” Jin Zixuan said, and picked up and set down one of the hanks of rope. “Wait, come here first.” Jiang Cheng shuffled over on the couch and let Jin Zixuan pull him into his arms for a minute, leaning his head onto Jin Zixuan’s shoulder. Jin Zixuan felt himself start to settle. “I’m going to take care of you,” he promised, and Jiang Cheng nodded. “On the cushion.”
Jiang Cheng slithered down onto his knees on the floor. Jin Zixuan started winding a length of rope around him, building a chest harness, and Jiang Cheng sighed, and his shoulders relaxed. “Good, baobei,” Jin Zixuan said, and paused to kiss the nape of Jiang Cheng’s neck.
Jiang Cheng shook his head, and Jin Zixuan snuck his hand around and pinched his nipple, hard. Jiang Cheng hissed. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“Who’s in charge, here?”
“You.”
“Mmhmm. And I say you're good.” Jin Zixuan picked up another length of rope. “I’m going to tie your hands up over your head,” he decided. Jiang Cheng nodded, so Jin Zixuan moved in front of him, wrapped his wrists, and then pulled them back up, so his bent elbows framed his head and his hands touched his spine. “Okay?” he asked, and Jiang Cheng squeezed his fingers. “Too tight?”
“S’good,” Jiang Cheng slurred, his voice softening out. Zixuan rubbed his thumb over Jiang Cheng’s shoulder blade and he shivered. That was it.
“Tell me if it gets to be too much, okay?”
“I will.”
Zixuan briefly contemplated tying Jiang Cheng’s legs, but holding his arms bent over his head would get tiring quickly, and Jiang Cheng was already relaxing, losing some of the nasty tension in his body. “Up over the couch,” he said, and Jiang Cheng shuffled a little, bending his upper body forward over their deep, low leather sofa, his long, lean body bowing beautifully forward, presenting his muscular ass and thighs.
Jin Zixuan wanted to touch, so he did. He smoothed his hand over the firm flesh of Jiang Cheng’s ass, pressed a kiss on one of the bumps of his spine. Jiang Cheng exhaled noisily.
Getting there. “You look so good, A-Cheng,” Zixuan said, and picked the paddle up. “I’m not punishing you,” he reminded Jiang Cheng, weighing the paddle in his hand. “You’re my good boy. You’re not in trouble.”
Jiang Cheng nodded. “I’m not in trouble,” he repeated.
Jin Zixuan had suggested a punishment scene exactly once, naively thinking that it was some sort of fundamental part of BDSM scenes. Even just the suggestion, fully clothed and talking in their kitchen, had upset Jiang Cheng, although he tried to hide it. He liked to be good. He got enough punishment in his regular life.
“What’s your word?”
“Sandu.”
“If you need a break?”
“Yellow.”
“Good boy,” Jin Zixuan said, and brought the paddle down, not too hard, just warming Jiang Cheng up. He alternated little swats with the paddle with rubbing the pinking flesh of Jiang Cheng’s ass. “Feeling good?”
“Mmm,” Jiang Cheng managed, and turned his head slightly so Jin Zixuan could see his face. “More?”
“Of course,” Jin Zixuan said, and put his hand on Jiang Cheng’s lower back. “Count them.”
The paddle snapped down and Jiang Cheng grunted and hitched forward onto the sofa. “One,” he said, and readjusted to take the harder hits. “Two.”
Jin Zixuan lost himself in the process. This was for Jiang Cheng, but he found it meditative, all of his focus on Jiang Cheng’s reddening flesh, the waver in his voice, the way his hands flexed against the rope when a particularly hard strike landed and then relaxed again to wait for Zixuan. All that mattered was making Jiang Cheng feel good.
He let the paddle land again, and waited for Jiang Cheng to count it off. “Baobei?” he asked, rubbing Jiang Cheng’s lower back.
Jiang Cheng shook his head. “I, uh…” He took a wet-sounding deep breath. “Um… uh…”
“Did you lose count, sweetheart?” Jin Zixuan asked, and helped Jiang Cheng sit up off the couch. Jiang Cheng nodded, looking at the floor, the easy pleasure of a second ago gone. “That’s okay,” Jin Zixuan said, and wrapped his arms around Jiang Cheng’s torso, holding him close. “Had enough?”
“I can be good for you,” Jiang Cheng insisted, his voice muzzy, and pressed back against Jin Zixuan.
“You’re so good,” Jin Zixuan told him, “You’re so good for me. My A-Cheng.” Jiang Cheng turned, awkwardly, and Jin Zixuan reached between them and untied the knot holding his arms around his ears. Jiang Cheng grunted, lowered his still-bound hands, and turned to press his face into Jin Zixuan’s neck. “I think you had enough of the paddle, okay?”
Jiang Cheng nodded. “Okay.”
“Can I get you off?”
Jiang Cheng worked his throat for a second, and pressed his face harder into Jin Zixuan’s neck. “Can you hold me for a minute?” he asked, and sounded hoarse and far away. “First?”
“Of course,” Jin Zixuan murmured. “Love holding you.” He shifted and Jiang Cheng made a protesting noise, but Jin Zixuan got them both up and arranged Jiang Cheng between his legs on the couch. “Good?”
Jiang Cheng nodded, and pressed his face into Jin Zixuan’s collarbone again. “Did I do okay?” he asked, his voice scratchy.
“Better than okay,” Jin Zixuan reassured him, and ran his hand through Jiang Cheng’s thick, silky hair. “Just right. Perfect. So good for me.”
He kept talking. Jiang Cheng started to relax again, going limp in Jin Zixuan’s arms. “I had a really bad day,” he finally mumbled, and flexed his hands against the rope binding, reminding himself he was held.
“You can tell me,” Jin Zixuan said, and stroked Jiang Cheng’s hair away from his face. “I’m listening.”
“I had that nightmare again,” Jiang Cheng mumbled. He’d described it to Jin Zixuan before, a mixed-up dream where sometimes he was six, and his dogs were being taken away because Wei Wuxian was scared, and sometimes he was an adult and Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli were being taken away. “And my parents are angry about some problems with the product rollout. I messed it up somehow.”
“Doubt that,” Jin Zixuan said, and tilted Jiang Cheng’s face up to kiss him. “Not everything’s your fault, A-Cheng.”
“It is to my mother,” he grumbled, sounding more like himself. “And then she got in my head about us.”
“What about us?” Jin Zixuan asked. He thought their relationship was pretty straightforward. Jiang Cheng was his and Jin Zixuan was going to marry him.
“Well, they set up the engagement, and we’ve only been doing this for a couple months, and, um,” Jiang Cheng said, and swallowed, ducking his head. “She said this probably didn’t mean much to you?”
Jin Zixuan squeezed him as tightly as he could. “Your mother doesn’t know anything,” he said fiercely. “You’re - you’re my A-Cheng. Of course this means something to me.”
“Okay,” Jiang Cheng said, “I thought so, she just…”
Jin Zixuan had simply gone on both calling and thinking of Jiang Cheng as his fiance, which maybe hmm, maybe he should have thought more about that. “I thought we were like, boyfriends,” he decided on, and Jiang Cheng peeked up, smiling.
“Um, yeah, that’s - I like that,” he said, his ears turning red.
“Good,” Jin Zixuan said, and kissed the top of his head. “Can your boyfriend give you a handjob now?”
“He doesn’t want anything?” Jiang Cheng asked, and hissed a little as he pressed himself back against Jin Zixuan’s achingly hard cock.
Jin Zixuan grabbed Jiang Cheng’s hip. “Okay, yes, he wants too. On, uh, on your side?”
Jiang Cheng rolled over, pressing into the couch cushions, and Jin Zixuan found the lube, and squirted some between Jiang Cheng’s thighs. Jiang Cheng hissed and squirmed. “Too much?”
“No, I really want - ah, A-Xuan, cold - you to.”
Jin Zixuan shoved his sweatpants off and clamped one thigh over Jiang Cheng’s, holding his legs tight together. He wrapped his hand around Jiang Cheng’s cock and let the movements of his body push Jiang Cheng towards completion, listening to the moans and grunts he couldn’t help but let out when Jin Zixuan pressed against his hot, red skin.
Jin Zixuan came first, and tightened his hand around Jiang Cheng, stroking harder and faster, a little too much, until he did too.
In the afterglow, Jiang Cheng was soft and hazy, almost boneless. Jin Zixuan wiped him off with his t-shirt and untied him, first his wrists, and massaged his biceps, where he’d kept his arms pulled back. When Jin Zixuan reached for the harness, Jiang Cheng made a protesting noise. “Not yet,” he said, and it made Jin Zixuan smile.
“Whatever you want,” he told Jiang Cheng, and leaned in to kiss him again. “Do you want more dinner?”
“In a minute,” Jiang Cheng said, and insinuated himself back into Jin Zixuan’s arms. Jin Zixuan liked this part, liked watching Jiang Cheng come back to himself. After a while, Jiang Cheng said, "You know you don't have to do this for me, just because I'm…"
Jin Zixuan pulled him closer. "I know," he said, and stroked from Jiang Cheng's hip to his lowest rib, firmly, so as not to tickle. "I wanted to. It settles me down, too."
He realized as he said it that it was true. He'd come home from work rattled and when exercise had failed to calm him, spent an hour making things nice for A-Cheng, not at all expecting to do the scene. He made a mental note to discuss this with his therapist.
"Was your day okay?" Jiang Cheng asked, turning his face up against Jin Zixuan's shoulder and tightening his arm around Jin Zixuan's waist.
"Kind of weird," Jin Zixuan admitted.
"Did you eat?" Jiang Cheng asked, and dug the point of his chin into Jin Zixuan's shoulder.
"Yeah, I ate while I was heating up food for you," Jin Zixuan said. "You're good for me.”
"What was weird about your day?"
"I think my dad hired my half-brother," Jin Zixuan said. Jiang Cheng seemed much more alarmed by this than he was, but then again, his ‘bonus’ sibling was Wei Wuxian.
Earlier that day, Meng Yao stood, sweating through his shirt, in front of Jin Guangshan's office. He was furious with himself, but that was not unusual.
This was a situation that called for iron control, or everything, years of work, weeks in the hospital, days and nights with Wen Ruohan, would be ruined. Meng Yao’s stupid body was going to betray him by sweating too much. He was going to blow his cover because just seeing his stupid father reminded him of being thrown down the stairs.
Luckily, no one was paying much attention to him. His escort for his tour around the office was a busty blonde, who was now absently flirting with a sour-faced Jin relative in an expensive suit while staring into Jin Guangshan’s office. Meng Yao resented being used as an excuse for someone to get closer to his father.
"Cindy!" It was Jin Guangshan. Meng Yao ground his teeth together.
There was no reason to be this scared, he told himself, pulling his fisted hands back into the sleeves of his jacket so no one could see him. His father had seen him once, in bad lighting, nine years ago. Meng Yao doubted Jin Guangshan had ever registered his name. He hadn’t lured Meng Yao here to throw him down the stairs again.
Anyway, all the doors were alarmed, and the alarms worked. Meng Yao had leaned on one until it made a warning beep to check. If he did get thrown down the stairs, this time, the fire department would come.
"Mr. Jin," Cindy simpered. She'd unbuttoned a button on her blouse. Meng Yao thought about warning her, until... "Thought you'd like to meet Ming, our newest recruit." Good luck, Mindy, Meng Yao thought, savagely, and tried to decide if additional revenge was necessary.
"Good to meet you, Ming," Jin Guangshan said and clapped Meng Yao on the shoulder and squeezed, staring into Cindy's cleavage.
Meng Yao froze. On his fifteenth birthday, nine years ago, his father had started the evening by clapping his hand on Meng Yao’s shoulder, and Meng Yao had naively thought that his nightmare, the year in foster care after his mother died, was finally over. He’d been relieved.
He was such an idiot, he told himself, and smiled, a weird little smile he knew he got when he was about to lose it. He’d been trying to work on that, but he felt like he was floating outside his body. Just great. He hoped no one looked at him.
"I'll finish the tour," someone said from behind Meng Yao, and guided him away with a very light touch to the elbow. Meng Yao really didn’t like people touching him, but anything was better than a panic attack in front of Jin Guangshan. He pressed himself into the corner of the elevator and shook.
The man took him into a quiet, pristine washroom and offered him a handkerchief. "It's okay," he said. "Everyone on this floor is a woman, so no one will come in. You can take a minute."
"Thanks," Meng Yao mumbled. He used the handkerchief to mop away the sweat beading on his face. The man had let go of Meng Yao’s elbow as soon as they were out of sight, and removed himself from Meng Yao’s personal bubble. It was a very considerate way to handle Meng Yao’s stupid freakout.
"I don't mean to pry," the man said, and Meng Yao looked up at him in the mirror. His own eyes, Jin Guangshan's eyes, looked back. "I don't know if you often have panic attacks, but please know our healthcare covers excellent mental health supports for all employees. If you don't feel comfortable talking to HR, I'd be happy to help you with any questions you might have."
This was his brother, Meng Yao realized. He’d decided in the hospital, recovering from what Wen Xu had done, that whatever happened, he’d hate Jin Zixuan. They’d never met before, although Meng Yao had later realized that it was Jin Zixuan’s seventeenth birthday he’d interrupted, the night he met his father. He’d seen news articles through the year, and always sneered, even as he reread them.
"If you’re okay, I'll give you a minute to clean up," Jin Zixuan said. "We're just in the boardroom next door when you're ready - I think we're going to be waiting on Cindy, so no rush."
“Thanks,” Meng Yao said, and waited for him to leave. When Jin Zixuan was gone, he let himself have a minute to bend over the sink and shake. He had to do this, or everything he’d gone through with the Wens was worthless.
It was just - Meng Yao had always known he had a half-brother. He’d never been stupid enough to think that Madam Jin would like him, or want him around, but sometimes, when he was too cold and scared to sleep at the foster home, he’d daydream that his brother would like him. That he’d want to be friends. It made him sick, how weak and naive he’d been.
Meng Yao took a deep breath and straightened up, staring at himself in the mirror. “Do it for mom,” he reminded himself, and splashed some water on his face. If this kept happening, he was going to need better deodorant.
"What are you going to do about it?" Jiang Cheng asked. They'd moved from the couch into the shower. The heat and the steam made everything seem unreal around Jin Zixuan, just as it had in the office that morning, catching the new marketing assistant’s eye and realizing he had a fourth sibling. Jiang Cheng was pressed against Jin Zixuan's back, holding him tight. Jin Zixuan hadn't realized that this would be a side benefit of dating a man, the feeling of Jiang Cheng literally having his back, feeling his arms strong around Jin Zixuan. He'd never had a girlfriend serious enough to hold him like this.
"You have really nice arms," he mumbled, and Jiang Cheng kissed him under his ear. "I didn't really think that far, I guess. Depends on what he wants."
"If he hurts you, I'll break his legs." Jin Zixuan leaned back and smiled.
Meng Yao's second day went more smoothly. The sour-faced Jin cousin came and dumped a load of work that definitely should have stayed with his team, and Meng Yao sweetly asked Barbara if he could help. "No, I handled things like this all the time at my old job," he said, picking up the files and flashing his dimples. "It's no trouble."
"Bless you, Ming," she said, and Meng Yao made sure not to let his smile waver an iota. "You poor thing, coming from the Wens. The stories…"
"Don't believe everything you hear," Meng Yao said, and dimpled charmingly.
He set the files down on his desk and went to the empty bathroom to take deep breaths. Actually, most of the stories about the Wens were true, and if anything, watered down. Wen Ruohan was one step up from a mobster and all that had kept most of the employees from going to the authorities was fear for their families. Meng Yao had personally seen him break someone's leg in the morning all-hands. They’d been back with their leg in a cast after lunch, casting nervous looks at the photo of their family on their desk. As for what he'd done to Meng Yao himself...
At least Meng Yao didn't have a family. He did have an eidetic memory, and something to prove. The FBI had taken him on as an informant for financial crimes shortly after he'd been hired.
Taking Wen Ruohan down, after everything, had been satisfying, but merely a prelude to Meng Yao's true target: Jin Guangshan. His father. The man who had broken his mother's heart and several of Meng Yao's bones.
Meng Yao looked down to make sure his hands had stopped shaking and went to start looking through Jin Lemonface’s files.
Meng Yao came in early the next morning for more time with his files. The ugly cousin, who he had learned was named Jin Zixun, was an idiot. There was definitely something improper happening in these files, but it was difficult to tell if it was malfeasance or just stupidity.
He rubbed his hands over his eyes and went to hide in the bathroom for a few minutes. He'd had nightmares about his fast trip down the stairs of Koi Tower, mixed with Wen Ruohan breaking someone's leg, sometimes Mo Xuanyu, sometimes his mother. It hadn't been a restful night.
The door swung open after him and then clicked shut, locked. Meng Yao's heart leapt into his throat. He'd been so stupid, how could he…
It was Jin Zixuan. For some reason, this made Meng Yao feel better. No, he told himself. Feel worse! We hate him!
"Meng Yao," Jin Zixuan said, staying back three-and-a-half paces, which Meng Yao had mathematically determined was a safe distance. How did he know to do that? "Sorry. I just wanted a quick word in private and I thought this was more discreet than calling you to my office."
"Happy to help," Meng Yao said, automatically, and stress-dimpled, which was a more normal reaction to a person he was trying very hard to hate. Jin Zixuan was undoubtedly going to try to harass him, or blackmail him or something, and then Meng Yao would have a good reason to hate him. "Call me anytime."
"It's just that this is a personal matter, and I thought you might appreciate discretion." Here it was. Meng Yao was going to be recruited into a conspiracy designed to give the Jins even more money and he could get on with his plan. Jin Zixuan took a deep breath and Meng Yao looked into his own serious brown eyes, his own face, if the delicacy of Meng Shi's features was taken away. "I think we might be brothers."
Meng Yao was - surprised. He didn’t not look like a Jin, but it was a big leap from ‘similar facial shape’ to ‘you are my fourth illegitimate sibling.’ His handlers had never bothered to consider the possibility, and Meng Yao operated on the idea that no battle plan survived first contact with the enemy. (This didn’t mean he didn’t make them - it just meant that he hadn’t planned for this.)
He decided to go for honesty. It wouldn’t be that hard for Jin Zixuan to get a hair or a cup for a DNA sample, and Meng Yao didn’t want to spend the rest of his time here bald and not drinking fluids during the day. “We are,” he said, and then, because that didn’t seem adequate, “Sorry.”
"Don't apologize for being alive," Jin Zixuan said, his solemn face creasing into a frown. "I - I’m sorry, I don’t mean to put you on the spot. You’ve got just as much right to be here as me, maybe more. It’s just that I can’t help but think that there are easier places for someone to work than Jin Corp, especially since my father was a complete asshole to Qin Su and Mo Xuanyu.”
The genuine anger on A-Su and Xuanyu’s behalf surprised Meng Yao. As far as A-Su had mentioned, he’d never reached out to her, so they’d assumed he was just another dumb Jin, happy to see a poor kid get kicked around by his family. It had maybe been the thing that made Meng Yao hate him most.
Now wasn’t the time. “There are.”
“So why here, why do this to yourself?” Meng Yao hesitated, trying to decide how much to reveal. Unusually, he wanted to tell… the truth? It was a foreign and confusing feeling.
Jin Zixuan went on. “I’m sorry. I understand that your reasons might be complicated and ultimately, your business with our father is your own. If you’re trying to embarrass him, or if this is a way of having him make you amends, I won’t stop you, although I will warn you that my father can be… unfeeling.”
“It’s not that,” Meng Yao said. He wasn’t stupid.
Jin Zixuan nodded, looking slightly relieved. “It’s just - if this is about the company… the people who work here, it’s not their fault my father can’t behave himself. If your actions hurt them…” He took another deep breath. “Well, if your actions hurt anyone who didn’t deserve to be hurt, I have my suspicions about Zixun, but I can never catch him at anything. I’m trying, myself - I mean, I like to think I can change things, make it less worse here.”
What a rube, Meng Yao thought. Thinking the world could ever be a less horrible place. However, he did have to admit that Jin Zixuan was uniquely placed to stop Jin Guangshan’s worst excesses. Offering counselling to employees - it was… it was…
It was kind. Meng Yao decided to take a chance.
“I won’t blame you if you don’t believe me,” he started. “But the FBI is investigating your father and the company for ties to organized crime.”
“Fuck,” Jin Zixuan muttered, his eyes rolling upwards, and then, “It’s not that I don’t believe you, exactly, but do you have some way to prove this to me?”
Meng Yao looked up into Jin Zixuan’s eyes, his own eyes, and nodded. “I can, but not here.”
Mianmian, many years ago, buzzed on the roof of their dormitory, had advanced a unified theory of Jin Zixuan. He didn’t think she remembered that fuzzy night anymore, but he certainly did. He thought about it all the time.
“Okay,” she said, and passed him the beer they were sharing. “So there’s good Zixuan and bad Zixuan, right?”
“Is this a tortured philosophy major thing?” he asked, and took a swig of the beer before lying back down to look up at the stars with her. They were pressed close together, using Zixuan’s jacket as a picnic blanket. “Am I stuck in a cave in this one?”
“Fuck you, asshole,” Mianmian laughed. “Not my fault you don’t understand the cave allegory. So there’s good Zixuan and bad Zixuan.”
“Right, sure.”
“You’re good Zixuan,” Mianmian said, poking him in the chest and shuffling closer to pillow her head on his shoulder. Jin Zixuan smiled without meaning to. People always thought they were dating, and he never felt that way about Mianmian, but he still liked feeling like he could look out for her, keep her safe and happy. Luo Qingyang being a ferociously independent person, the opportunities to demonstrate this were rare. “This is good Zixuan.”
“Because I broke us onto the roof?”
“That was cool, but no. Good Zixuan cares about people. Good Zixuan punched fucking Zixun in the parking lot in high school for calling me a lesbian.”
“I fully support you being a lesbian,” Jin Zixuan mumbled for the thousandth time. “I just didn’t like his tone.”
Mianmian reached up and patted his cheek. “You’re my ride or die, man, never change. Bad Zixuan, though.”
“Fuck that asshole,” Jin Zixuan loyally agreed.
“Bad Zixuan cares about reputations.” She didn’t have to go on. Bad Zixuan had started pulling away from Mianmian to hang around with his stupid cousin when an old administrative assistant of his father’s had filed sexual assault charges, because his cousin waved away the accusation and Zixuan didn’t want to think about it anymore. Bad Zixuan had been quiet when Jin Zixun had picked on Mianmian and Wen Qing. Bad Zixuan would have lost his best friend, if Mianmian hadn’t turned to him while he made excuses for his idiot cousin and yelled “Zixuan, I am a lesbian!”
“Do you not like Diane?” he asked, quietly. Diane was his flavour-of-the-week. She had a cellphone sized dog she swung around in her designer handbags until it looked seasick. She was rude to waitstaff, overly polite to Jin Guangshan and Madam Jin, and she didn’t like Mianmian.
“It’s not whether I like her,” Mianmian said. “It’s just…”
Jin Zixuan’s eyes prickled. “She’s awful,” he said. “I just… my dad liked her so much, and…”
He rocketed back to high school, going home after Mianmian shouted at him after yearbook club, calling his therapist, crying because he loved his dad and he didn’t want to believe he could do something like rape his secretary and because he thought he was going to lose his best friend. He’d apologized to Mianmian privately, in his car, the next day and joined the GSA in restitution. He’d forced himself to calmly consider the secretary’s story and realized she must be telling the truth.
His dad had just… gotten away with it. There had been no consequences. It still made Jin Zixuan sick to his stomach. Despite that, he still slipped sometimes, tried for his dad’s approval and then hated himself for it.
“I probably shouldn’t knock your dad so much, because your mom took me with you to Europe on all those ‘escape Zixuan’s dad’ trips, but he’s a pretty bad guy.”
“I’ll break up with Diane in the morning,” he said. “She sucks.”
“It’s warm,” Mianmian said, reaching up to grab his hand. “You want to sleep out here?”
“Yeah. Thanks dude.”
Jin Zixuan thought of that night again, and then picked up his office phone and dialed Jiang Cheng. He picked up on the second ring, sounding official and distracted. “Jiang Wanyin speaking.”
“Hey, baobei.”
“Hey,” Jiang Cheng said, and his voice warmed and softened. Jin Zixuan could almost hear his shoulders coming down from his ears. “It’s Zixuan, A-Jie, just a sec. What’s up?”
Jin Zixuan smiled despite himself. “I forgot Yanli was in town, sorry. I just called to say hi.”
“She doesn’t mind,” Jiang Cheng said, and Jin Zixuan could hear the edge of a smile in his voice. “Another weird day?”
“It’s getting there. Hey, do you mind if we have company for dinner?”
Meng Yao recognized the scowling man who opened the door to Jin Zixuan’s palatial residence as Jiang Wanyin, the heir to the Jiang fortune. He wasn’t surprised, exactly, because he’d read Jin Zixuan’s dossier before starting this assignment, and knew that they cohabitated to help keep up the pretext of their engagement. It did throw him off a little when Jiang Wanyin turned and yelled “Babe, your brother’s here!”
“You just… accept I’m his brother?” Meng Yao asked. That was so… straightforward. He'd worked himself up to be scorned and shouted at, and when it didn't happen, all the rage he'd gathered whooshed out of him, leaving him an empty vessel.
Jiang Wanyin shrugged. “You look enough alike,” he said, reasonably, and waved Meng Yao into the house with a quick, angry gesture. “Who would want to be related to Jin Guangshan if they didn’t have to be?”
It was a reasonable question. Few knew, but the Jin fortune had been willed directly to Jin Zixuan from his grandfather, an old-fashioned man who reviled Jin Guangshan for the scandal of his many affairs. There were trusts for main-branch relatives, including Jin Guangshan and Jin Zixun, but Jin Zixuan inherited the bulk of the assets. Meng Yao had seen in the FBI dossier that Jin Zixuan’s mother had been the trustee until he turned twenty-five, and he still paid her a handsome stipend to help him administer the enormous fortune that technically included the company Jin Zixuan worked at.
“No one, I guess,” Meng Yao agreed, and came inside.
“Meng Yao!” Jin Zixuan yelled, from somewhere inside. “What do you want to eat?”
Meng Yao frowned. He had an embarrassingly tricky stomach and he didn’t like telling people. “Oh, it’s…”
Jiang Wanyin ushered him up the stairs from the foyer and into an enormous, glaringly white kitchen with seating for twelve at the gold marble counter. “He likes to feed people,” he advised Meng Yao, with a fond eye roll. “Just tell him or he’ll do three delivery orders to make you happy.”
“Oh,” Meng Yao said, again, holding the folder he’d brought in front of him defensively. “It’s just, my stomach - anything cheesy or spicy or oily, I…”
“Hmm,” Jiang Wanyin said, and dug in the freezer. “Here, my jie sent us leftovers. We have jiaozi, or chicken soup, and she gave me some congee, or…”
“Congee would be nice,” Meng Yao said. He’d prepared to have to stand in the foyer or perhaps the driveway and not come in any further, to be ignored, to be shouted at and for things to be thrown. Instead, he was getting home-cooked leftovers? Like he really was Jin Zixuan’s brother? Was this a trick? “If - if that’s okay.”
“I wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t okay,” Jiang Wanyin said, and rolled his eyes again. “Here,” He broke off to address Jin Zixuan. “Dumbass, sit down, don’t pretend you know how to use the microwave.”
Jin Zixuan smiled and kissed him, so apparently this was just how Jiang Wanyin moved through the world. Interesting.
Meng Yao slid the folder across the counter to Jin Zixuan and made a conscious effort not to react as he read it. Jiang Wanyin fussed for a minute and set down a bowl of gently fragrant congee on the counter in front of Meng Yao. “What are you drinking?” he asked, and glowered. Maybe that was just how his face was?
“Water?” he said hesitantly. This aggressive hospitality was off-putting. “Or - or tea?”
“What kind?”
"Anything. Whatever's fine."
“Jasmine,” Jin Zixuan said, absently, and flipped a page. “I bought the kind we had in the office, is that what you like?”
“That’s fine,” Meng Yao said, a second or two late. How had Jin Zixuan noticed that? Meng Yao hadn’t even had the bag in his mug by the time he’d come into the meeting. That was a Meng Yao level of observational skill. It was uncanny.
Zixuan finished flipping through the dossier. “I can tell these are legitimately our files,” he said. “I - it’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s just…”
“Here,” Meng Yao said, and slid a USB drive across the table. It was reassuring, somehow, to know that Jin Zixuan wasn’t too trusting. “I need this back.”
Jin Zixuan dragged his laptop over and watched the footage of Meng Yao giving sealed testimony in the judge’s chambers for the Wen Ruohan case. “Wasn’t that dangerous?” he asked Meng Yao. There was a confusing note of concern in his voice.
“Well - yes,” Meng Yao said. “But the reward money was helpful.” He paused again. “And it was the right thing to do?” He was supposed to say that, he thought, even though it had not been a primary or secondary, or even tertiary motivation.
“Do you need money?” Jin Zixuan asked, looking up with concern.
“No,” Meng Yao said, surprised. This was not, strictly speaking, true, but Jin Zixuan didn’t need to know Meng Yao’s personal business. “I gave it to A-Su for Xuanyu’s school fees.”
Jiang Wanyin slid a plate of beautifully pleated jiaozi onto the counter between Jin Zixuan and Meng Yao, and set a cup of jasmine tea at Meng Yao’s elbow. Meng Yao sipped it, and took another bite of the congee. For the first time in days, his stomach didn’t hurt.
“I thought Jin Guangshan was paying for that stuff,” Jiang Wanyin said, and actually scowled. Apparently he did just have a bad case of resting bitch face. Good to know.
“He’s supposed to be, but…”
Jin Zixuan made a pained face. “Do you talk to them?” he asked. “Would they take money from me?”
“I think so?” Meng Yao said. “A-Su really wants Xuanyu to stay at his school. Money would definitely help.”
Jin Zixuan nodded. “Do you have a way of contacting them? I could…”
“I see them once a month,” Meng Yao said. “The school fees are a lot, I think it’s twelve thousand a term, and A-Su’s dad paid this semester, but she doesn’t like to… You can’t just give them a cheque for fifty thousand dollars!”
“Will it be a problem for her to deposit it?” Jin Zixuan asked, his forehead wrinkling in confusion. “I could send her a wire, but she can rip this up if she doesn’t want to take it. It might be cathartic?”
“It’s fifty thousand dollars!” Meng Yao said, distressed. That was probably more than his mom had made in three years.
“Well, twelve thousand a term is twenty-four thousand, and I don’t know how much she needs to pay her dad back, and then some money for school supplies.” He looked at Jiang Wanyin. “How much do school supplies cost?”
“Maybe fifty-five would be better,” Jiang Wanyin advised. “In case he needs a new laptop.”
“You can’t just…” Meng Yao said. He felt hot and shaky just looking at the cheque.
“Oh, it’s from the family trust,” Jin Zixuan said, as if that was the problem. “It’s not even mine. She can - whatever she needs, she should have it.”
Meng Yao shoved down everything he was feeling and smiled. “I’ll tell A-Su. Thank you.” He looked at Jiang Wanyin. He should give him something too, for the dumplings. “Wen Ruohan was deliberately targeting your delivery network, that’s why you had so much trouble with your last rollout.”
“Huh,” Jiang Wanyin said. “Thanks.”
Later that night, after Jin Zixuan solved his information access problem by offering to elevate Meng Yao to his personal assistant, after Jiang Wanyin bullied him into eating a comfortable number of stomach-safe dumplings and drinking several cups of tea, after they paid for his uber home, Meng Yao sat in his tiny shower stall and wondered if his heart was trying to rip its way out of his chest. He felt so much and it was going to rip him apart.
Partly, it was relief. Mo Xuanyu was a talented little weirdo, and he was doing much better since he’d started at the tiny gay art kid school. Meng Yao was happy to have helped solve a problem for him.
Partly, it was jealousy. Any reasonable person would want many millions of dollars and the sprawling house at the top of the hill. Meng Yao was a reasonable person, but he knew the world wasn’t fair. No, what he wanted was the easy affection between Jin Zixuan and Jiang Wanyin. It was stupid, but he was more jealous of the way Jin Zixuan had leaned into Jiang Wanyin’s shoulder. It looked so...
Mostly, it ached, like being stabbed ached. Meng Yao’s mother had been sick already by the time he was Mo Xuanyu’s age, and fifty thousand dollars would have bought her medicine, protected them both from that last horrible year of survival sex, maybe saved her. Fifty thousand dollars might have kept Meng Yao out of foster care when she died. Fifty thousand dollars would have paid for better medical care for Meng Yao, the year after that, after Jin Guangshan threw him down the stairs. He’d gone to college on merit scholarships, but… Textbooks. Food. Safer housing after he graduated. He might never have met Xue Yang.
The water was cold. Meng Yao turned off the shower and mechanically dried himself off. Since his fall, his circulation wasn’t great and he got cold easily, and then things started to hurt and his episodes got worse and more frequent. He put on sweatpants and a long-sleeved t-shirt, and then pulled on his mother’s old college sweater, one of the only things he had left of her, and imagined he could smell her perfume on it.
He wanted so much to hate Jin Zixuan, but he just couldn’t. He was only two years older than Meng Yao. He would have been in high school, when Meng Yao had fallen down the stairs, and he was helping Xuanyu. It wasn’t Jin Zixuan’s fault. Meng Yao pulled the blankets over his head and hoped Meng Shi would forgive him if he couldn't hate the brother who had everything she wanted for him.