For him, it all started with tears.
Not her tears of course. That would be ridiculous. The Dong Shancai he knew and admired had never been prone to waterworks. She was tough. She was kind. She was everything. Not even as a tiny, adorably chubby toddler had the object of his childhood affections been much of a whiner. The same couldn't be said for him, unfortunately. If he was perfectly candid, their first encounter would have been completely mortifying if he hadn't immediately fallen head over heels for her; he had been too enraptured to remember to bawl his eyes out. He could remember it like it was yesterday...
He had always been a somewhat fragile little boy, a wiry scrap of a child with typically knobbly knees and an unfortunately runny nose. He had been less than sixty pounds soaking wet, all sharp elbows and a shock of spiky hair. A baby calf in the midst of the hyenas, entirely at their juvenile mercy. It didn't help that he had the reputation of "new money", and had been labelled as a trust fund kid who ironically could not be trusted. It wasn't his fault he was the first born son of a family of farmers transformed into entrepreneurs; it was no wonder he had been sheltered as a young one, shielded from the hardships he knew his elders had suffered in their youth. However, it hadn't endeared him to his classmates in the slightest; in a neighbourhood that wasn't particularly affluent, his designer clothes and the sleek car that dropped him at the school gates, it had simply painted a bullseye on his forehead. He was different and they hated him for it. It didn't help that he was prone to allergies and had a delicate disposition - he had always been the kid who had been forced to wear thick glasses to correct his vision, the kid who hadn't often dared to venture outdoors for fear the summer may take him. What a cliche. He had never stood a chance, he was a lamb amongst wolves.
It was on one of his rare excursions into the playground when he first met Shancai, cowering in the dirt with tears streaming down his face. For the first time in a long time, he had decided he would brave the elements, to see if he would be allowed to join in any of the schoolyard games, only to come face to face with the older boys who often taunted him and made fun of his hayfever. "Sissy", they would call him, their voices loud and mocking, their laughs an accursed venom coursing into his bloodstream and making his teeth clench. It really ground on his pre-school nerves; against his better judgement, against all the carefully worded warnings from his Mama, he had unwisely locked horns with the three older boys. The result had been utter decimation; not only had they stolen his lunch money and hidden his glasses, the bullies had also knocked him flying, causing him to lose both the skin on his knees and the last modicum of his pride. He had promptly burst into tears, left alone to scrabble in the dirt, blurry eyed and sans his eyewear. He had felt like dirt. That was until he felt a light tap on his shoulder and found himself gazing (albeit blearily) into the prettiest pair of brown eyes he had ever seen in his young life. The sun had been framing her dark hair like a halo, and he could almost swear she was an angel; he had never noticed how pretty girls could be before, and he had certainly never noticed her before. He would most defiantly have remembered, of that he was sure.
"Hi," she had chirped, her voice every bit as sparkling as her wide eyes, "I'm Shancai. Why are you crying?" His words had failed him, but her appearance did manage to dry the tears on his cheeks; it was only her question that reminded him of his shame, of his bitter, bitter defeat. "Nothing!" He had muttered ashamedly, his rounded cheeks glowing scarlet under her scrutiny. His breath had caught in his throat when the girl (Shancai, the most beautiful name he had ever heard) had plopped gracelessly beside him, her tiny twin ponytails bobbing as cheerfully as her pearly white smile. Even at the tender age of five, the small boy had known intrinsically that this girl, the wondrous Shancai, was something special. Someone unique and pure. He wanted to be her friend. No, that wasn't quite right... he had wanted to be her best friend.
The wounded little boy's cheer had returned slightly when Shancai had dug through her pockets vigorously, her triumphant "ah ha!" a balm to his ears as she offered him an unknown object magnanimously. He had blinked once, twice, three times, unable to believe his eyes, and yet, her offer had not been rescinded. She was as crazy as she was cute! "Are you sure?" He recalled asking shakily, his gaze fixed longingly on the treasure she was offering to him without a second thought. It was a Shiny Charizard Pokemon card, something he had sought desperately and yet, never unearthed. The rarest of gems, and coveted by every single child in their class. And yet... Shancai was offering it to him with no qualms whatsoever, her shiny eyes unclouded and honest as she grinned her gap toothed smile his way, making his childish heart beat twice as fast as it ever had before. "Sure!" She had nodded jauntily, "we are friends, aren't we? Just don't cry anymore!" The boy had been stunned as she pressed the card into his own small palm, the short tufts of her twin tails tickling his cheek and making him giggle. He swore from that moment on that he would be her best friend forever, that he would stick with her through thick and thin until she realised she loved him. He wanted to be by her side for the rest of time. Shancai. The first person who had showed him kindness when it seemed like the rest of the world was against him.
Years had passed, and the scrawny boy had filled out into a slightly less scrawny man, one with much better fashion sense and minus the unfortunate bottle bottom glasses that had tainted his childhood. Aside from Shancai, contact lenses were his new best friend! And Shancai... Shancai had only gotten more beautiful the older she had gotten. She was bright, vivacious and he had been taken with her since he was five years old. He was in awe of her tenacity and he admired her ability to always stand up for the underdog. He supposed it was idolatry in a way, but could he be blamed when positivity shone out of her like moonbeams? She had become his wife in the crummy video game they both liked and he had held out hope that one day, she would become his wife in real life. He had held out hope that one day he would evolve past the best friend stage and she would truly see him for him. Alas, it wasn't to be; his hope had died when he had seen how the ever sunny Shancai had cried real tears for the prince of Mingde. Tears he knew must have been torn from her, the product of an utterly broken heart. The girl who never cried had grieved for a love lost, and he knew in that moment that although he loved her, she would never be his.
He would only ever be her best friend. Thankfully, that was enough.
****
For him, it all started with a smile.
It wasn't a particularly big smile either; it was just a brief glimmer that flitted across her tiny face, brightening her features and snagging his interest. He suspected that her smile hadn't been meant for others to see; it disappeared in the blink of an eye, which further cemented the idea that the small woman hadn't meant to reveal so much. She was proud of herself, and she hadn't been able to suppress the glee inside - he found himself wondering if her quickly suppressed pride was something she experienced rarely. He wasn't the type to typically wonder about women either - he could take or leave them. However, something about this girl and her tiny smile fascinated him, and he was hard pressed to keep from stroking her cheeks in an attempt to coax it back into existence.
Admittedly, the stranger didn't look like the type who fed off her own assumed greatness (unlike some he could name) - her flushed cheeks and bashfully lowered eyes were testament enough. It was rather adorable, and it made him look at her, truly look at her, for the first time since she had entered his kitchen. Her smile lasted for less than half a second but he saw it; in a strange way, he felt like he had gotten to know this stranger just a little bit better, as though they had shared a secret only the two of them were privy to. For some reason, he found himself wanting to be the confidante of all this girl's secret; his heart had thumped erratically as he tried to distract himself with an unfinished batch of miso soup. Yet... the darned smile lingered in his memory. He hadn't spared her much attention at all when she first appeared; the sous chef had been more focused on his work, desperately trying to stay afloat and manage his short staffed kitchen simultaneously without inviting disaster. The girl (Dong Shancai as he later learned), had appeared in his hour of need, and the closer he observed her, the more convinced he became that she was angel sent from above to save him.
Once he noticed her, it became impossible to ignore her. Dong Shancai was something of an enigma; at first glance, she appeared rather ordinary, but the more attention one paid to her, the prettier she seemed to get. She was a vision of pale skin, inky hair and a sweet smile that seemed to light up whatever room she occupied. More than that, she was humble; as he later discovered, she was an elite student who attended the prestigious Mingde university, and yet, she hadn't turned a hair at the prospect of being asked to peel potatoes. Shancai didn't reign on high, riding on the coat tails of a top tier education; she was willing to buckle down and get her hands dirty. She wasn't afraid of hard work and he... he found he respected it. And the more he respected her, the harder he fell for her. He had been approached by many beauties, all undeniably stunning, and yet, he had always found something in them lacking - perhaps their own inflated egos or vacuously vague interests. He couldn't help but to be a snob at times; he had been raised as the favoured son of his household and he had been taught to expect nothing less than perfection. Shancai, however, was in a league entirely her own. Not only did she have a quiet beauty, but she also had heart in spades. How could he not adore her? She was the perfection he had been taught to seek.
His affection only multiplied tenfold when Shancai hunted the elusive Kamio leaf for him, determined for him to succeed. He had never seen anything like it; Shancai had been as persistent as a dog with a bone, driven by the urge to see him achieve his dream. It had touched him deeply and caused a lump to rise in his throat; his own father had dismissed his culinary pursuit as a fever dream, a hobby he would soon outgrow. How was it that this one girl could see what made him tick so easily? She truly was a gem amongst pebbles. Shancai was the only one who truly seemed to understand that cookery was his passion; he saw the same fervour in her, the same desire to learn all there was to know about the art of cookery. The spark of hope that had ignited earlier in his chest erupted into full fledged flames when he discovered she had even selflessly sacrificed her ID to get him what he needed; was he crazy for believing that she actually returned his affection? After all, they were two sides of the same coin - they shared the same goals, the same ideals - together, they would be perfect, he just knew it.
The only spanner in the works was the spiky haired man who persisted in harassing her, a dark spectre who hovered over his budding emotions with all the tenacity of a scorned demon. He had made it clear that the sous chef was not welcome in Dong Shancai's love life. He recalled vividly how the arrogant guy (a guy who was scarcely older than he himself was) had stared him down with such venom in his eyes, intent on chasing Shancai out of the kitchen and out of the medicinal heir's reach. The other guy was utterly fearless; he wasn't afraid of pressing his suit and declaring himself to Shancai at all - if only the chef could have such courage, he may have managed to ensnare her heart after all. Should have, would have, could have... it was a shame that hindsight was 20:20.
The past still rankled the medicinal heir beyond belief; barely a day went by when he didn't recall the enraged, almost murderous look in the other man's eyes when he sighted the burn Shancai had inflicted upon herself on the first day in his kitchen - no doubt Sonic the Hedgehog blamed the sous chef for that faux pas. He hadn't liked seeing her hurt, but her injury had set off something primal in the other man - he had seized Shancai by the wrist, attempting to forcibly remove her from the perceived threat. Only Shancai's vehemence had prevented him from dragging her bodily from the building - it seemed Shancai fought fire with fire, and the other boy had been momentarily struck dumb. However, the trainee chef wasn't blind; he saw the reluctant longing in the stiff set of the other boy's shoulders as he strode away, a hasty, slightly choked goodbye flung over his shoulder like a shuriken. He recalled only too clearly the wounded expression in Shancai's eyes as she watched his rival leave, a hunted, haunted expression that would thereafter keep him up for days on end, just... wondering. It was clear that Shancai felt something for the other man - he just couldn't decide if it was adoration or detest. The line between the two was thin, or so he had read about in books, and the chef feared that Shancai may fall off one side and straight into another man's arms. Would he be able to move on if she did? Would he ever find another girl who meshed as well as she did with him? Would he be forced to give up on his dream romance before it had ever really gained momentum?
The aspiring chef did not have long to wait to find out.
The memory of the spiky haired boy's return was as fresh in his memory as a slaughtered lamb, and certainly as bleak. The other boy had made it clear that he was never going to back down without a fight, that Shancai was his and his alone - fought he had indeed. In fact, Sonic had fought dirty. He had wasted no time at all launching a live grenade into the midst of Shancai's and his tentative relationship, had blown wide all the secrets the chef had tried to conceal with a gleeful viscousness. The chef knew he had been a worthy opponent, however, any flicker of hope he may have harboured in his heart had been snuffed out entirely when he saw how Shancai looked at the other man. The tiny girl may not know it, but she looked at the hotel heir like he was the the aurora gracing the night sky; it was as though they were both trapped in each other's gravitational field, inexplicably drawn to one another and oblivious to anyone else who may have helped them shine.
He had never stood a chance; Shancai had been lost to him from the second the hotel heir returned from his all too brief London adventure. The chef knew that he was the logical choice, the easy choice - their relationship would have evolved naturally if the other man hadn't shot across her sky like a meteor, blinding her in the process. His fears were further founded as he sat in the dingy cafe listening to Shancai wax lyrical about his rival; it was clear, without a shadow of a doubt, that Shancai had fallen, and fallen hard, for another man. The sting was intense. He would have been the rational choice, but Shancai proved without conscious effort that love was not rational when she turned from him, stars in her eyes as she spoke about the other man in wonder. The light in her eyes had caused the hope in his heart to die; Shancai would never be his, because in this life, she had already pledged her heart to another.
He was never meant to be her Romeo. He would always be her Paris. He would have to learn to accept it.
****
For him, it all started with a glare.
Not a playful, flirty glare that one could perhaps expect to see from a crush in denial. No; this had been a real glare, edged with ice and overflowing with a hatred that seemed bigger than the tiny girl herself. It was something he had never expected from the sweet, innocent looking young woman he had been forced to kidnap as part of a mindless plot for bitter, petty revenge. The whole plan had been blown wildly out of proportion the second his boss had caught wind of his nemesis' involvement - it had snowballed catastrophically and the disgraced ex Mingde student found himself haplessly swept along, trapped in a web of deceit that swiftly became too convoluted to escape. As soon as there had been a sniff of interest around Shancai, she had had a target painted on her forehead. He couldn't have helped her even if he wanted to, he was in too deep, bound far too tightly by the gospel of the Boss. The arrogant heir was Public Enemy Number One, and anyone affiliated with him was just collateral damage. It almost physically pained him to see Shancai so distressed but how was he supposed to fight against the entire gang? It didn't matter that Shancai was innocent, a delicate flower caught in her arrogant suitor's riptide through no fault of her own. Boss wanted Shancai and so Boss would get Shancai. That was just the way it was.
However... no amount of misplaced almost familial loyalty could completely drown out the niggling guilt that threatened to cripple him when he saw Shancai bound and helpless on the rickety wooden chair. She was so small, so delicate, so utterly alone as she sat surrounded by thugs. He had put her there. Like it or not, there was little he could do about it. The fear in her eyes was tragically beautiful and he was almost brought to his knees when she affixed him with her glittering gaze, beseeching him for help and tugging at his heartstrings. He was between a rock and a hard place - on the one hand, he was bound by the past to help Boss achieve his vengeance and on the other hand... he had really started to fall for this girl. Shancai was intelligent and interesting and beautiful in a way he had never before seen; it was no wonder his stupid stepbrother seemed so taken by her. Anyone who encountered Shancai was inevitably ensnared by her humble charm; how could one girl have such power over him? It was ridiculous! He watched, heart aching, as his associates taunted Shancai, chipping away at her pride and insulting her with their jibes. He died a little when the sound of a reverberating slap echoed throughout the dreary warehouse, burrowing into his nerve endings as if he himself had been the recipient. He.... he couldn't go through with this but he was too afraid to rebel against the status quo. He had never been brave, and he hated himself for it as Shancai laughed hollowly, her voice resigned as she told Boss firmly that her "boyfriend" would not come for her.
Only to be proved wrong almost instantly.
There he was, like an avenging angel, his gaze as sharp as his peculiar hairstyle. And the gang boy was... oddly relieved. He watched surreptitiously as Shancai's eyes widened in horror, her beau's name a terrified litany practically wrenched from her lips. He watched as the heir's furious eyes flickered over her, drinking in the hand mark on her cheek and every single glossy hair that had been knocked askew. He watched as the hellfire in the heir's eyes ignited, washing over his face and squaring the set of his shoulders as he stood before them, outnumbered five to one. It seemed to matter little to the Boss' nemesis; he was there to save his princess and neither heaven nor hell would stand in his way. He was more worthy than he seemed, the arrogant heir, and the unwilling gang member couldn't deny it; above all, he was glad Shancai was going to be safe. If the heir hadn't existed in her world, perhaps the outcome would have been different. Perhaps the one Shancai would be willing to take a blow for would be him and not the spoiled university boy come burgeoning CEO. It was a dream that died before it could ever really grow roots. It was a dream he didn't even deserve to consider.
His hope was only short lived, a passing moment; the disgust in her eyes told him that he had never stood a chance. He would never be worthy of a girl like Dong Shancai. He had never been worthy to begin with.
****
For him, it all started with a loss.
For as long as he could remember, he had only had eyes for one girl and one girl alone. Jing. The girl who had saved him from the dark recesses of his own mind, the girl who had eclipsed all his senses since he was a mere infant. Jing. The woman he had idolised above all others, the woman who seemed to see beyond his troubled past to the man he had become. How could he not adore her when she had always been his staunchest supporter, his biggest fan? No one had ever been so tolerant with him, had ever approached him so delicately and patiently. No one else had ever admired his awful drawings. No one else had ever heard him practice his violin, had heard how he savagely he attacked the strings in order to police his convoluted thoughts into order. It had only ever been Jing. That was until he met Dong Shancai.
Admittedly, he hadn't thought much of her at first. She was just a small, somewhat nervous little creature, more eyelashes than brain for all he could discern. Pretty enough but also incredibly easy to overlook. He had been certain that she was just another one of his oldest friend's simpering fans, just another airhead there to press her suit only to be tossed coldly aside by the patented F4 arrogance. How swiftly she had turned his expectations on their head. Not only had she thrown his friend a look that could wither roses in their beds, she had also yelled at him in charmingly self righteous fury, freezing the self proclaimed prince of Mingde in his tracks. It was the first time the musician had ever seen such an occurrence. He had never seen his friend look at a girl with such... interest, and it made him look at her more closely too. That was when he realised that Dong Shancai was like an iceberg; there was so much more hidden beneath her surface than noticed at first glance.
Shancai was a breath of fresh air on a hot summer's day. She didn't idolise F4 with sycophantic devotion, blinded by their good looks and the promise of wealth. She didn't look at any of their quartet and see the material gain that could evolve from a dalliance; if she had, she would have fallen into the heir's arms the second he caught her in his crosshairs. However, Shancai, in her own way, was on the same level as Jing; driven, motivated and independent to the point where it was almost frustrating. Shancai was his brother's Jing, this was evident to everyone except the delivery girl herself, and it was almost too easy to see the parallels sometimes. The two men were hopeless when it came to romance, just hapless boys head over heels for girls they couldn't hope to impress. He had almost broken into a million shards when Jing had left for fairer shores, and when she returned, he was wary and jaded in a way he had never before been. For the first time ever, his head had been turned by another - he didn't know what he felt more guilty about, betraying his brother or betraying Jing. He loved them both dearly, but he couldn't lie - the way Shancai looked at him sometimes made his chest tighten. It was unprecedented but he wasn't a convincing liar; Shancai made him feel something, and he was almost afraid of what that meant for his friendship with F4.
He knew in his heart of hearts that Shancai had the equivalent of a schoolgirl crush on him and he did little to quash it; why, he couldn't quite explain. At first, he chalked it up to blatant disinterest; he wasn't trying to impress anyone but Jing, so what harm did it do to let her have her little fantasy? Eventually, her affection would peter out; she was uncommonly lovely and he was sure that sooner or later, someone else would capture her interest. He later realised it was reasons to far beyond his initial dismissals; for the first time ever, a girl had noticed him over his spoiled brother, had seen past his standoffishness to the boy still trapped inside. He would be lying if he said he wasn't flattered. The musician became increasingly aware of Dong Shancai and all her charmingly clumsy ways. He was aware of how she looked at him with sparkles in her eyes, aware of how she blushed every time she was within ten feet of him, aware of how she couldn't seem to string together more than two words together coherently in his presence. However, despite himself, he also noticed how comfortable and natural she acted around his brother; she was a completely different person around the hotel heir - he seemed to bring colour to her cheeks and fire to her soul in a way the musician had never quite managed. He could not help but to be aware of how attuned she was to his brother. She didn't even realise that she was caught in his gravitational pull, but he saw it all, each and every time. He wasn't sure he liked it either.
Things only got worse when Jing reappeared. He was initially thrilled; she was just as perfect and pretty as always, glowing like an angel and filling him with a renewed sense of purpose. And yet... he was still kept awake tossing and turning at night, plagued by the memory of unreasonably beguiling chocolate brown eyes. Him, the violinist famed for never missing his sleep, haunted by a girl half his size. A girl decidedly not his own to claim. Regardless, the longer he spent around Shancai, the more he realised how good and pure she was inside. She was selfless to her core (except for when his brother was concerned, but hey, nobody was perfect and it wasn't like the hotel heir had been a saint either.) Where Jing was focused on herself and her own dreams, Shancai consistently sacrificed her own self happiness for others - he sometimes worried about how little regard she had for her own wellbeing. Whether it be for her friends, her parents, even his spoiled brother; time and time again, he watched mutely as she put her own needs aside, her focus on acting supportive for others.
He was the only one who saw her cry. Likewise, she was the only one who saw him cry. It was almost symbiotic, and he fell for her just a little bit more - they were bonded, he and Shancai, by the salty waves of the ocean and the salty tears they had shed.
In a strange way, he loved her for always shouldering others burdens; where Jing was flighty and untameable, Shancai was as steady and dependable as his own heartbeat. He trusted her in a way he had never before trusted a woman - he knew his secrets would be safe with her, that he could let his guard down momentarily around her and just be for a change. Slowly but surely, he started to realise that Jing was once all he had needed, but eventually, he had to let her fly - he couldn't keep her placed on a pedestal forever, pining after a love that wasn't to blossom past childhood sweethearts. Slowly but surely, he recognised why his heir best friend was so twitterpated with the tiny girl. Shancai had the uncanny knack of filtering light into even the darkest of moods - for a brief moment, he was blinded by it, entirely seduced by it. For a brief moment, he felt hope flare in his heart; hope that he could love and be truly loved in return. For a brief moment, he lost control of his senses and made the worst mistake of his life.
He kissed her. His brother saw it all.
His hope was flimsy at best; it was snuffed out with a punch to the jaw and the broken look of betrayal in his best friend's eyes. It had been a fever dream and he wasn't committed to tearing apart his brother's dreams. He could never go through with it. He could never rip out his brother's heart by stealing his beloved right from beneath his nose. If he was completely honest with himself... he wasn't sure he could compete with his best friend and emerge the victor anyway.... he above all the else saw how heartbroken the pair of them were after his ill timed kiss. If a kiss was capable of causing such damage, it stood to reason any relationship of his and Shancai's would be doomed to fail. He couldn't break two hearts just to mend his own. He couldn't be so selfish to those he loved.
He would find his Shancai one day. He just had to hold out hope that one day, she would appear.
****
As for him, the one who finally snagged her, it all started with a kick to the face.
He wasn't like the rest, the ignorant masses with the weakest of hearts. He wasn't like the banana farmers, the chefs, thugs or musicians who made a play for her heart and failed miserably. No; he was leagues above them and failure was not part of his vocabulary. He was someone who was totally brazen, determined and unique; he saw Shancai for who she was from the get go, and he wanted her wholeheartedly. And what he wanted, he inevitably got.
Shancai had been born to be his, of this, he was absolutely sure.
For him, his hope never died. It may have wavered and flickered along the way, but he had never looked elsewhere. His love knew no bounds; every time he laid eyes on her, his adoration only grew one thousand fold, enveloping all his senses and leaving him beyond breathless. His hope was as pure and bright as his love; untarnished, brilliant and all encompassing. The boy who never knew love growing up one was the one who loved most fiercely of all. He was the one who loved her body and soul, the one who would die for her with no questions asked. He was the one who adored her above all others and it was for that reason his story was still being woven; she was the moon, he was the sun, and together, they were magnificent.
He was too stubborn to let his hope die the way so many others before him had, and it was his perseverance that won fair lady's heart. On the glorious day she said "I do", his hopes came full circle, and his dream was complete - it was clear to all who knew him that he couldn't be happier. The prince had rescued his princess. Daoming Si had finally captured his beloved Shancai.
How was that for a happy ending?
——————————————————————————-
This was written as an ode for all the boys who loved Shancai. We always think of Ah Si as a devilishly handsome heartbreaker, however, Shancai is never short of a suitor. It's a testament to her that so many fall for her along the way; it's a testament to Ah Si that he is the only one who truly wins her heart. I'm not sure if this format was enjoyable, it was merely whimsical pondering so I hope you take it with a pinch of salt. As always, many thanks to my dear friend Jen (JVH624 ) for constantly lending me an ear and also for the prompt - this time, the prompt was "hope." And ironically, I hope you enjoy my nonsense - happy reading! 💜