Chapter Text
Tap tap tap tap.
Xie Lian drums his fingers off the old oak countertop, idly flipping through the pages of a battered book that had come in that morning along with other old tomes. The spine is shattered, the pages loose and half of them missing, and Xie Lian hadn’t really wanted to accept the box of books in the first place, but as an antique store that relies on donations from house clearances to get enough stock to keep running, he hadn’t been in a position to refuse.
Sighing, he turns and places it atop his bag, wondering if he can salvage it at all when he gets home. Maybe he can turn it into a book nook? He’s sure there’s some leftover dollhouse furniture from a few months back, perhaps he’ll see what he can do.
Before he can ruminate any further, the bell above the door tinkles, and Xie Lian looks over to find a young woman struggling to get through the door with a box under her arm.
“Oh!” He rushes around the counter, holding open the door for her, and it is only when he takes the box from her arms that he notices the cane jammed between her arm and her torso.
“Thank you!” She gives him a sunny smile, bright enough that he almost misses the way she stumbles as she tries to rebalance herself, leaning on the cane and taking a deep breath as she follows him to the counter.
He watches her discreetly as he places the box on the counter. She seems younger than him by a couple of years, and from the way she limps he guesses the cane is needed for an old leg injury. There’s scarring on one of her forearms, and the cane is peculiar enough that he looks back at it. It’s made from driftwood, strangely shaped but exactly the right height for her, and although he cannot see the handle properly it looks like it could be carved into a fish.
Tearing his eyes away, he blushes a little when he meets her knowing gaze, embarrassed at being caught looking at her cane.
“Ah, hello, how can I help you?” He asks politely, trying to guess at what the reason behind this donation is. Almost certainly it’s from another house clearance, perhaps the death of a relative? He peeks over the lip of the box, and spots a few old fashioned photo albums, as well as some books and trinkets.
“You take donations, right?” She asks, leaning against the counter to support her weight. She pushes some of her long black hair over her shoulder, and there is something to her, familiar in a way Xie Lian can’t quite put his finger on. He wonders if they went to school together.
“I do.”
“Brilliant!” She pushes the box further across the counter, giving him permission to look inside properly. “I was clearing out some relative’s house, some great great uncle or something, and I didn’t need any of this stuff that we found in his attic.” She waves a hand over the items, mint-green nails catching on the cardboard box.
Xie Lian looks inside, reaching in to take out the photo album on the top. It’s bound in crimson silk, and a quick flip through confirms there are photographs inside the album.
“Do you want the photographs back?” He asks, turning it over and running his fingers over the silk. It’s in brilliant condition, well-looked after, and it certainly doesn’t look like an object that has been kept in an attic. Usually items kept in attics are covered in mould or riddled with insect holes, but this looks as though it could have been purchased yesterday.
“Oh no, you can keep those, we don’t need them.” She says, watching him as he opens the first page to find old photos of what looks like Xianle, long before it became the capital city that it is today.
“You sure? If there are photographs of your family in here, they may end up disposed of. I’m more likely to sell the album empty, after all.”
“If no one wants the photos, feel free to trash them.”
Xie Lian can’t help it, but his heart hurts a little at that. What he would not give for family photos of his own, images of his parents and grandparents living their lives long before he came into being. Everything he had had been lost in the house fire that followed after the death of his parents, and all that remains is a single photo of himself with his parents that he’d kept in his wallet, and a few photographs saved on his cellphone.
“Ah, okay. Are you happy to sign some forms to say you’re transferring ownership?” He changes the topic, not really sure what to say. He hopes that there will be no one in this woman’s family in the future searching for images of relatives.
The woman nods, still smiling cheerily as he takes a form from under the counter and hands her a pen. Her penmanship is neat despite the scarring on her forearm and wrist, and he wonders what injury had caused that. What could give someone such deep scarring, yet still leave them with full flexibility in their hands?
When she hands the form back, he looks down to check it is filled out properly, and offers her a smile.
“All done! Thank you, Shi Qingxuan.” He says, eyes flicking down to the form to find her name. Her returning smile is still cheerful, and she waves as she pushes away from the counter and heads towards the door.
“You’re welcome, Xie Lian!”
Xie Lian gives her a wave as she leaves, watching to be certain she isn’t struggling with the door. Only once she is gone does he return to the box of objects on the counter, frowning.
Something seems… off.
It takes a moment for it to click, but when it does the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, goosebumps running down his arms.
He hadn’t given her his name.
It takes a few more days for him to properly look at the objects in the box. He’d shoved it under the counter, too weirded out by the strange encounter to think about looking through it, and then he’d forgotten about it.
It is only now, when on a call to his boyfriend (and Xie Lian still giggles, still blushes to think of Hua Cheng as his ), that he remembers it.
“Anything interesting come into the store lately, gege?” Hua Cheng asks, his voice somehow still lovely and deep even over the crackly cellphone.
“Oh! You’ve just reminded me! I had a whole box of objects donated that I need to sort through.” He looks down from where he’s leaning on the counter and spies it still sitting there underneath.
“At least it will keep you busy, gege.” Hua Cheng says with a laugh, and Xie Lian smiles to hear it. Hua Cheng knows him so well already, knows that Xie Lian will spend ages with the box of objects trying to find out as much as he can about them.
“San Lang knows me too well.”
There’s a soft laugh on the other end, and it warms Xie Lian’s heart, makes his smile turn silly as it always does when he’s talking to or thinking about Hua Cheng.
“Will you come see me tonight?” Hua Cheng asks, and even though there are currently miles between them as Hua Cheng works at the gambling den on the other side of the city, Xie Lian somehow can still see the way his lips purse, ready to frown and pout if Xie Lian says no.
“Of course, if San Lang wants me to.”
“I always want you to.” Hua Cheng responds smoothly, instantly, quickly enough that Xie Lian knows he is sincere. He’s still in awe that this beautiful, wildly successful man wants him, plain Xie Lian who runs a store filled with old junk and who only barely earns enough to get by. Hua Cheng is wonderful, and sometimes Xie Lian feels like it surely mustn’t be long before he opens his eyes and realises he can do better.
“Gege?” Hua Cheng’s voice is soft as he breaks Xie Lian out of his thoughts. “Shall I pick you up from the store when you close?”
“That would be wonderful.” Xie Lian smiles fondly, relieved at knowing he won’t have to get the bus to the other side of the city where Hua Cheng lives. He’d rather spend the inevitable hour stuck in traffic with his boyfriend, rather than on a bus away from him.
“I’ll be there for five.” Hua Cheng confirms, prompting Xie Lian to shake his head knowingly. He doesn’t close up until half-five, but Hua Cheng enjoys spending that half-hour leaning against the countertop, teasing Xie Lian as he cashes up the till and locks up the store.
“See you then, San Lang.” Xie Lian’s voice is gentle, and Hua Cheng’s is even softer as he says his own goodbye and Xie Lian ends the call. It lingers for a moment before that final cutoff, as Hua Cheng always does, seemingly unwilling to hang up until Xie Lian does it for him. It’s sweet, and yet another thing that makes Xie Lian feel like he is falling long and hard for his boyfriend of only a few months.
With a soft, almost certainly lovesick smile, he puts his phone back into his pocket and reaches under the counter for the box of items.
The photo album will take him the longest to look through, so he puts it to the side, knowing that once he opens it he’ll likely be poring over every image inside. His fingers itch to look even now, so he stands up and pulls the box closer so he cannot be tempted, and finally has a look at what the woman had brought in.
The mix is strange, especially for a group of objects that supposedly belonged to the same man. Considering how big the box is, there aren’t many items inside. There are two books, one seemingly much older than the other, with the newest book being at least a couple hundred years old. He takes them carefully out the box, pleased to see they’re in good condition. One appears to be a notebook or diary of some sort, whilst the other is an illustrated book of folk tales.
Xie Lian lays them down on the counter, gently, and reaches back in for the rest of the items. The next one is a rigid, circular fan, of such high quality that Xie Lian is momentarily breathless to look at it. The handle is bamboo, and the white silk has been carefully preserved along with the beautiful scene depicted on it. He peers more closely at it, in awe at the detail of two women taking tea in a verdant garden, one dressed in crimson hanfu and the other in white.
It’s so pretty that he’s certain it belongs in a museum.
He’s even more careful with the fan as he places it beside the books, still in awe at its condition before he peeks back into the box. He discovers the reason that the box is so big: a wooden scimitar, as though made for a child, is wedged along the edge of the box. He pulls it out, amazed at the intricacies of the woodcarving. The crossguard is perfectly placed, the curve of the blade so realistic that he’d think it was copied from a real sword, and in the hilt there is carved an eye so detailed that it sends a shiver down his spine. There are nicks up and down the sword, and Xie Lian smiles to imagine some child decades ago clashing with a friend, a sibling, playing soldiers with wooden swords.
The final item is a silver incense burner, elaborate in its design, and still giving off that deep smokey smell that old censers tend to have. There are two handles on the round body, both of them casted into matching fox shapes, and the lid is composed of a fox curled up on the ground. It is unusual for that alone - Xie Lian finds that many of these get donated, and they do sell, but they almost always depict dragons or other grand creatures. The fox alone is unusual, but for there to be no sign of the copper turning green is impressive given its age.
Such a strange, eclectic mix of items in this box! He’s not sure if the woman had known the worth of some of them, especially the incense burner and the fan. The book of folktales might also be quite valuable, though he would need to check the internal condition to be sure. They’re definitely items he can stock in the shop, though he still feels a little sad at the thought of emptying the photo album out.
Finally, he turns to it, resigned to pulling out the photographs as he goes through it. The cover really is a lovely crimson silk, and he feels strangely reverent as he flips it open. Those first photographs of Xianle he’d date to around seventy years ago, judging by the architecture of some modern buildings he can see in the background, and there’s no sign of some of the bigger skyscrapers on the skyline.
Xie Lian opens up to the second page, his lips quirking into a smile when he sees what the photographs portray. The second and third pages are filled with sweet images of what he assumes are two men on the streets of old Xianle, taken with the kind of old camera that he’d sell for a fortune these days in the store.
It’s obviously an album documenting a secret relationship, for the two men make it nearly impossible for their faces to be seen in the photographs. It is only their silhouettes against a darkened alley, or faces hidden together by a kiss under the lights of a train station. There’s a photobooth kiss hidden by a fan, the outline of a body dozing beneath the sheets in a hotel room, two twin beds pushed together into a double.
It makes his heart ache, knowing of the outdated attitudes of decades past. Who were these men, who tried to document what they safely could of their love? Had they managed to make it? Or had they been separated, either by circumstances or their families? Shi Qingxuan had mentioned the items belonging to only one family member, but then perhaps these images are the reason why she was happy for Xie Lian to do with them as he pleased? Even now, there are many who would try to hide evidence of of same-sex relationships in their family histories.
It is only on the fourth page that their faces become visible. They are leaning against a railing with the river in the background, and though it is in black and white he can tell it is a sunny day without a cloud in the sky. One man’s arm is wound tightly around the other’s waist, pulling them chest to chest. The smaller man has his hands on the other’s lapels, his head thrown back with laughter, and both of them look so joyful, so happy.
Xie Lian throws the book onto the counter with such violence that he stumbles back into the cabinet behind him, knocking over several glass items as he does so. He doesn’t hear them, doesn’t register the sound of smashing glass and it crunching beneath his shoes, so stunned into silence is he as he stares at the album, a terrible chill running through his blood.
Because the two men in the photograph… they look like him and Hua Cheng!
“San Lang…” Xie Lian smiles, tucking himself in close alongside his boyfriend, but maintaining a respectable distance in case any eyes are on them. “I thought you didn’t like to be seen in photographs.”
Hua Cheng extends his arm along the railing, the tips of his fingers brushing against Xie Lian’s back. It sends sparks up his spine, and fighting down his blush is something he is well trained in doing now, so easily does Hua Cheng manage to fluster him. The young woman they’ve handed the camera to looks at them knowingly, but her expression is gentle, and there is no disgust or fear in her eyes.
“Maybe I wanted one just for the occasion?” Hua Cheng says, his expression fond as he looks down at Xie Lian, who is struggling to figure out where to put his hands and look relaxed.
“Hm? And what’s the occasion?” Xie Lian asks, curious. Hua Cheng’s eyes dart around, ensuring the walkway along the river is clear. There is no one around but them, and indeed part of the reason they had chosen this walk is for its relative seclusion along the riverbank. The woman had been heading in the opposite direction, but upon seeing the camera bag slung around Xie Lian’s shoulder she had offered to take their photograph, and Xie Lian had been surprised that Hua Cheng had obliged.
“Gege is just too beautiful, that’s the occasion.”
Xie Lian flushes red, suddenly warm, his stomach fluttering at Hua Cheng’s easy, flirtatious words.
“ San Lang - Oh!”
Suddenly, Hua Cheng’s arm wraps tight around his waist, pulling Xie Lian flush into him. He steadies himself with his hands on Hua Cheng’s broad chest, laughing without even thinking about it, enamoured by his boyfriend’s antics and the cheeky smile Hua Cheng directs at him.
The camera clicks loudly, the sun glinting off the water, and Xie Lian grins.