The place beside you will always be my home
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Wei Ying
I use our break to catch up on the work I missed. Which is . . . a lot.
Lan Zhan texted me once in a while during that time. He'd had to fly to London for some work the day after we decided on the break. I'm not with Uncle, he said and told me he'll explain when we meet. Both of us were pretty confident about 'getting back together'. But I guess this little time for ourselves was good for both of us.
He gained a lot of recognition with that project. I saw him in a few interviews on TV and even the trip to London had been for a lecture he was invited for by his college. The Young Jade of China, they called him, and I thought to myself, that's exactly what he is. Once I used to think he was head hard on business because his uncle made him. I was wrong. Hell, I was wrong.
There's one thing I didn't tell him. My residence for the past few days has been the studio. Unexplainably.
Ning's band members were on their exam week, and the schedule of the studio was empty, and I hated the idea of spending a week in a hotel alone—I was thinking why not. But I've been finding myself with new calluses on my left hand, and some scribbled notes on a stand. I don't know, I'm starting to feel comfortable around here. Is this what feels like to be set free?
I guess that's what made me suddenly say, "Cheng, what if I quit?"
Cheng glances up for a second through his glasses. "Has quitting become contagious?"
"I'm just asking," I tell him. "We've done this together since the day we started. Will you . . . be fine?" He gives me a look and I repeat, "Just asking."
He doesn't say anything for a long while. "If that's what you want, I don't get to stop you."
I don't deny it, he did sound halfhearted.
By midweek, I finally convince him to visit Qing with me. So on Friday night at the airport Cheng had his fingers on his mouth, torturing the poor nails. "This is a bad idea." He drops back on the metal chair, eyes on the ceiling above.
"I told you. You two need closure," I say, swiping through my phone. Of course, it's just an excuse. I just wanted him to meet her. The rest of it . . . they'll figure out.
"How the fuck is this your business?"
"When did we ever mind our own business, Cheng?" Which was the truth, and the thing that saved our asses sometimes, and that shuts him up, effectively.
Well, the time off was a time off until I woke up the next day to find a text from Lan Zhan that gets me cursing at myself for teaching him to take mirror selfies. Half of his face was covered by the phone. Buttons down—he doesn't do that even in steaming summer. The god-like abs. Contrasting curves. What a reply for a simple how's the morning text.
"I thought you were on a break," Cheng mumbles next to me, now awake, making me jolt.
"Yeah. We just . . . text."
He peeks at the phone. "And send thirst pics, apparently." He rolls his eyes getting off the bed.
"I didn't ask for it," I yell after him.
"As if he wasn't staring," he mutters audible enough, slamming the bathroom door shut, and I start laughing. I mean, who wouldn't stare?
We meet Qing at the bar of the hotel we stayed. I pretend not to notice Cheng sucking his breath in when she shows up. Giving him time to recover, I say, "Her royal highness arrives," and Qing sits over-elegantly, matching it. "I'm mad at you. You left without a word."
"The first this I hear is nag," she scoffs.
"Yes, because that's a clear breach of the trust of twenty years of knowing each other. Totally unfair."
"Please. You only visit me when you want a drink."
"That's not true. I visit just to see you too. I even made Lan Zhan mad once."
"Can you for once leave him out of a conversation," Cheng grits, supposedly because he got a chance to speak without Qing's involvement. That's what he does when he's nervous; avoid the person at all costs.
I raise my hands in defense. "Fine."
"How is the company?" Qing asks,
"I was on leave for a while," I say, ignoring this full week. "Ask him." I nod at Cheng, who chokes on his water.
"It's—," he clears his throat, "uh, good. It's fine. Everything's fine."
Qing bites down a smile, and I'm in an internal laughing fit. But I really should go easy on Cheng since he made it this far. "Give her what Shijie sent," I tell him.
"I didn't bring anything down," he says. "You were supposed to do it."
"No. I told you to take it."
"When did you ever say that?"
I rub my hand over my eyes, groaning. "He was not in this world this whole day," I tell Qing.
"What do you mean?" Cheng snaps in. "I was."
"You were not."
"That's likely," Qing follows up.
"Shut up. Both of you. Fucking—fine, I'll get it." He hisses standing up, and the two of us break into laughter. Cheng leaves pretending not to hear.
"Man," Qing groans slouching down on the table, watching him leave. "I've been preparing myself for this for as long as I can remember. Never thought it's gonna be this tough."
"I'd say . . . you don't have to do this," I offer.
Qing sighs. "I don't know. I didn't think that we can survive long-distance. We're not the homemaker type, you know."
"But y'all did."
Qing hums, with a sigh.
I sit back, crossing my arms. "Why don't you try? Maybe it's worth."
Qing smirks. "Says the person who ghosted his man for two weeks."
I blink. "How'd you know?"
"Cheng called me that time. And vented about you for like, an hour? Don't tell him, I skipped a first-day class for that."
"Sounds romantic."
"Mm-hmm. Super romantic," she says with an exaggerated slur.
She eyes me, with that look that tells me I'm going to get one of her lectures. "What?" I ask propping on the table.
"I think I know what your problem is. You see what people need—like actually need. But," she hooks her chin over her palm, "you're an idiot who leaves yourself out."
I chuckle.
"I'm serious. That's why you keep doing this . . . sacrificial thing. Even I need you in my life. We're just friends, but if you disappear, I don't know, I'll be sad. Really sad. I'm sure it's the same for Ning. Even Yanli and Cheng. Wangji, no doubt." She pokes on my hand. "Stop breaking that man's heart idiot."
Damn that poke hurts. "I'm trying!"
"Try harder." She glares at me, drops her head in frustration, lifts it back up. Another lecture. "When Aunt and Uncle passed"—I flinch—"you had this look. Like you don't believe that you deserve anything. Even when you were adopted. Remember when you used to come back to our place after school because you thought you were intruding?"
I smile weakly. Not pleasant to remember.
"But when you brought Wangji to the club for the first time—that was the first time I saw you so . . . comfortable with anyone. Like you genuinely wanted to be with him." She settles for a soft smile. "He's the one, Xian. He's your man. He needs you as much as you do and I know that you know it better than me."
"I know."
"Doesn't that answer it all?" She shrugs. "Well, for solid proof, when Wangji came back y'all started again after what—six years? Seven years?—like y'all have been dating forever. That's some crazy level of trust."
"Well, you tolerated my brother all those years," I smirk.
Qing squints. "Why do you have to win every conversation?"
"That's talent from blood. Dad and I used to go for hours." I laugh. "Until mom locked up one of us and we yelled through the door."
"I don't even wanna imagine."
"Oh you don't want to."
Cheng comes back with the full bags Shijie sent; Food sufficient for a week long. He eventually starts talking with Qing. By talking I mean, less stuttering, more words. That was interesting to watch.
After having dinner, I go back to the room early, giving the two of them some time. Cheng doesn't come back until very late, and I do him a favor by pretending to be asleep.
But he suddenly says, "I know you're not asleep and I didn't mean to force you to take up the job at the company back then."
I turn around to face him, too confused to say anything.
"I was nervous and I know I'm an asshole for forcing you but you were practically ruining your life so I don't regret it. But I'm not going to stop you if you're leaving to do something you like." He kicks my leg. "Now go back to pretending to be asleep, and I'm gonna deny if you say anything happened right now."
I nod, smiling, and do pretend to be asleep.
He doesn't tell me how it went, but the next day, I saw him texting a row of hearts to someone before boarding; he'll tell me about it when his stuck-up-ness goes down.
I think I understood Cheng's nervousness on the ride back home when the facts start to sink.
I'm going back to pick things up from where we left, with the knowledge that I can achieve acceptance. I have some sort of a new light of understanding. I'm getting to be with him, to kiss him—oh god—after three long weeks. And I'm going home.
When I put my keys in and open the door, the house was empty. But I have a text on my phone. He said he'll be here in ten minutes.
Extra:
Initially, I only planned one more chapter. But I wrote 2 because you guys deserve some closure. So the next one will come midweek, and the last one next weekend and we'll be done ^^
Hope you guys enjoyed
Till next time...