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“This is why you shouldn’t drink!” Feng Xin’s dramatic arm gestures make him look stupid, but then again there’s little about Feng Xin that Mu Qing doesn’t find stupid. And, unfortunately, in this situation he actually agrees with Feng Xin.
“I wasn’t drinking,” Xie Lian counters.
Mu Qing snorts. “How do you get spontaneously married in Vegas sober?”
“I thought it was a bit sudden too,” Xie Lian says, “but San Lang made a compelling case.”
Feng Xin’s jaw is clenched so tightly it could probably crack metal. “Who the fuck is San Lang?”
“My husband!” Xie Lian laughs nervously as both Feng Xin and Mu Qing make similar expressions of disgust. “He should be here soon, actually—he’s bringing over some of his stuff.”
“He’s moving in? Here?” Mu Qing’s gaze moves pointedly from the peeling wallpaper of the living room to the broken cabinet doors hanging off their hinges in the kitchen. “Why?” If wherever this San Lang is living is worse than this veritable shack of an apartment, they’re in dire straits indeed.
“Well, he offered his penthouse, but I just couldn’t give this place up. It has a unique charm!”
“Sure, if by ‘charm’ you mean toxic mold,” Mu Qing says snidely.
“Did you say ‘penthouse’?” Feng Xin exclaims. “Xie Lian, this sounds like a scam. I think he’s scamming you!”
“No, he’s—” The front door opens, then, and Xie Lian turns toward the hallway with a wide smile. “Oh, he’s here!”
Mu Qing crosses his arms, waiting for the shady character he’s been picturing in his head to walk into the living room. He’ll probably have a trench coat and beady rat eyes, or—
Or he’ll be one of the richest men in the country.
Feng Xin looks equally as gobsmacked as Mu Qing feels when he sees Xie Lian’s new husband.
“Gege,” the man in question says, not acknowledging the other two people in the room, “where shall I put these boxes?” The haughtiness in his voice raises Mu Qing’s metaphorical hackles.
“What is Hua Cheng doing here?” It’s truly a miracle Feng Xin manages to ever get anything done when information seems to travel to his brain at the speed of molasses. “Where’s San Lang or whatever?”
Xie Lian gives up trying to take some of the boxes from the tower Hua Cheng is carrying, since Hua Cheng will not give them to him, and finally just directs him to put them down on the floor. “This is San Lang!”
“No,” Feng Xin argues, “that’s Hua Cheng.” He thrusts an arm out for emphasis. “The youngest Fortune 500 CEO in the—actually, what the fuck are you doing here?”
“Not that it’s any of your business,” Hua Cheng says coolly, “but I live here now.” With the boxes now offloaded onto the floor, he crosses his arms and leans against the wall.
“But—” Feng Xin looks helplessly at Mu Qing, who generally does not want to help Feng Xin but also has questions of his own.
“Why does a disgustingly wealthy person like you want to live in a dump like this?”
Hua Cheng gives him a plastic smile, but there’s murder in his eyes. “It has charm.”
Xie Lian beams. Mu Qing just barely represses the urge to gag.
At least Feng Xin seems to have finally started connecting the dots. “Wait, you married Hua Cheng? How did you even meet?”
“He lent me his umbrella,” Xie Lian explains with an awfully fond look.
“It was raining? In the desert?”
“Well, you know what my luck is like.”
They do indeed. And the fact that Xie Lian is now married to one of the richest men in the country has done nothing to dissuade Mu Qing of this notion. If anything, it’s made him even more certain this is a trap of some sort.
“Why would you get married right after meeting?” Mu Qing presses. “That’s deranged.”
Xie Lian’s sheepish expression indicates he is at least aware that it’s a deranged thing to do, but he did it anyway. Typical Xie Lian. “There are lots of reasons to get married, if you think about it.” His awkward laugh does not endear Mu Qing to the situation in the slightest. “Like tax benefits, or—or I’ll finally have health insurance—”
“You don’t have health insurance?!” Feng Xin exclaims.
“Well, I do now! But that’s not really important.”
“Of course it is, gege,” Hua Cheng says. Every word he utters is laden with arrogance. He wraps an arm around Xie Lian’s waist and meets Mu Qing’s glower with a coldly amused stare. Bastard.
Feng Xin is shaking his head. “No, no, no. This is too crazy. But we can still fix it! It shouldn’t be too hard to get this annulled, since it’s a nonconsensual marriage—”
“I did consent,” Xie Lian protests.
Hua Cheng chuckles. “Me too.”
Feng Xin thrusts one arm into the air. “Well, I didn’t!”
“I didn’t either,” Mu Qing adds. With the number of times he’s had to agree with Feng Xin in the last ten minutes, he’s probably in danger of spontaneous combustion, but a disaster of this magnitude requires his input.
“How fortunate we are that no one cares what you think.”
“What San Lang means,” Xie Lian jumps in, “is that while we appreciate your concern, this is sort of between the two of us? So there’s no need for you to worry.”
“No need—?” Feng Xin splutters.
Mu Qing rolls his eyes. “Whatever. As long as you know that it was a horrible decision.”
Hua Cheng tugs Xie Lian in even closer—public decency is a lost art form these days, Mu Qing thinks—and gives that stupid fake smile again.
“Do you think it’s a citizenship thing?” Feng Xin muses after they leave Xie Lian’s apartment.
“They’re both citizens.”
“Well, yeah, but . . .”
“Who cares, anyway? I’m not going to lose sleep over Xie Lian’s insane marital decisions,” Mu Qing says.
It’s a lie, but no one needs to know that he spends hours in a Google hate spiral trying to find dirt on Hua Cheng. He just can’t fathom why anyone would decide to marry a stranger on a whim, let alone a smug bastard like Hua Cheng seems to be. His DIY background check doesn’t turn up anything of use besides Hua Cheng’s contact information, so in a fit of spite Mu Qing signs him up for a bunch of spam email listservs.
Feng Xin and Mu Qing do make several more attempts to talk some sense into Xie Lian regarding all the red flags in this situation, but their friend proves to be stubbornly color-blind.
Even worse, Hua Cheng is suddenly everywhere.
If Hua Cheng’s job weren’t so well documented online, Mu Qing would think he didn’t even have one, for all the free time he seems to have to hang around Xie Lian. Even if Hua Cheng is not physically around when he comes over, Mu Qing can still sense a lingering malignant presence. Or maybe he’s just feeling the dead-eyed stare of Hua Cheng’s creepy cat.
For weeks, Mu Qing waits impatiently for this whole thing to implode, but Xie Lian and Hua Cheng only seem to get closer as time passes. Mu Qing cannot understand why Xie Lian would want a stranger in his house, let alone one he’s legally tied to—but the most incomprehensible part of all is Xie Lian seeming to actually like this stranger.
Hua Cheng is a crazy person. There is no doubt in Mu Qing’s mind of this fact, and frankly Xie Lian’s lenience in this regard astounds him. Even Feng Xin is being sensible about this, and Feng Xin is an idiot.
Mu Qing finds it promising that Xie Lian isn’t wearing a ring at first. Whatever elaborate ruse or strange misunderstanding this Vegas marriage is, it can’t be that important if they haven’t even exchanged actual rings.
Or so Mu Qing figured, until one day he sees a ring hanging on a chain around Xie Lian’s neck. It’s a family heirloom, Xie Lian explains, so he didn’t want to ruin or lose it by wearing it on his ring finger.
“That’s not gold,” Feng Xin says, peering skeptically at the ring.
“Good catch,” Mu Qing deadpans, though he too has noticed this fact.
“Shut up. Is this Hua Cheng some kind of cheapskate? He can’t even splash out for a gold ring?”
“You should probably just divorce,” Mu Qing says.
Xie Lian either thinks they’re kidding or is committed to pretending he thinks so. “Ah, don’t be silly. It’s far more valuable than gold. San Lang wanted to buy me other jewelry too, but I don’t need all that stuff.”
“If you say so,” Feng Xin grumbles.
It gets worse not even a month later, when Xie Lian begins wearing a red string tied around his finger.
“What is that?”
Xie Lian glances down at his hand. “Oh, it’s just a little something to mark that I’m married. San Lang has one too.”
“That’s—but—” Mu Qing stares at him. “The red string of fate? Seriously?”
“It’s not like that!” Xie Lian says, waving a hand in denial. “It’s just a little something to make us feel connected even when we’re apart.”
“HOW IS THAT DIFFERENT?”
“Well . . .” Xie Lian thinks about this for a moment, his face turning a similar color as the string. “I mean, I guess it’s similar, but . . .”
“You practically just met! What do you need to feel connected for?!”
“Oh, um . . .”
Mu Qing needs to tell Feng Xin about this harrowing development immediately. He’s not going to suffer through knowledge of it alone.
Then comes Valentine’s Day. Mu Qing wants no part in such an occasion, least of all when it involves these two, but he has no choice in the matter, since Hua Cheng plasters the city with Xie Lian’s face and a revoltingly sappy message on practically every billboard in sight.
“Oh, that was so embarrassing,” Xie Lian says with a little laugh when Mu Qing confronts him about it. He does look a little embarrassed, but more than anything his expression is fond. Ick. “I told San Lang not to go to any trouble like that, but—ah, you know what he’s like.”
“No, I don’t,” Mu Qing says sourly. “What little I’ve learned about him has been against my will.”
Xie Lian smiles and gives Mu Qing’s shoulder a light shove. “He’s really not that bad, as I keep trying to tell you and Feng Xin. Qingxuan likes him!”
“Shi Qingxuan has abysmal taste in people. Just look at He Xuan.”
Mu Qing had become acquainted with the man at the wedding of Shi Qingxuan’s brother, which He Xuan attended as Shi Qingxuan’s plus one. He’d proceeded to eat half of the cake as soon as the reception started and knock the rest of it onto the floor right in front of Shi Wudu, who had slipped and fallen in the wreckage. Mu Qing can give him props for making something as dull as a wedding more entertaining, but otherwise Mu Qing finds him unsettling.
“He Xuan isn’t that bad!”
Mu Qing argues the point for a while longer until Xie Lian says he has to get home to cook dinner for Hua Cheng. Mu Qing perks up at the thought of Hua Cheng being poisoned by Xie Lian’s food.
“You’re cooking for him?”
“Of course! It’s a special occasion. And”—Xie Lian’s cheeks noticeably redden—“he likes when I cook for him, so . . .”
The premature glee melts off of Mu Qing’s face. “You’ve cooked for him before? And he’s still alive?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t he be?”
A highlight reel of near-death experiences inflicted by Xie Lian’s dishes plays in Mu Qing’s head. “And he wants more of your cooking?”
“Yep!”
Hua Cheng is truly, genuinely insane. That’s the only explanation for all of this.
For a while, Mu Qing is still able to live in a bubble of denial wherein Xie Lian and Hua Cheng are just cohabitating and wearing rings for tax purposes. But this illusion begins to crack the first time he sees them kiss.
He and Feng Xin are hanging out in Xie Lian’s apartment one day when Hua Cheng gets home and greets Xie Lian with his mouth in a way that should be illegal when you have company. Or maybe just illegal in general.
“Oh,” Hua Cheng says when they’ve finally parted, after no shortage of fake coughing and throat clearing on the part of the two guests, “didn’t see you there.”
And then he gives Xie Lian another kiss and saunters away.
“What the hell was that?” Mu Qing snaps.
“I thought you were taking it slow!” Feng Xin adds.
“‘Slow’ would be not marrying at first sight,” Mu Qing mutters.
“It was just a greeting!” Xie Lian defends. “Kissing is a form of greeting in many cultures. It’s just . . . friendly.”
This defense might have been more convincing if he weren’t 1) breathing harder than normal and 2) bright red.
Mu Qing scoffs. “I would never greet a friend like that.”
Feng Xin’s eyebrows are raised as high as they’ll go. “Me neither.”
It’s unfortunately not the last time they’ll kiss in front of Mu Qing, and after a month or two Xie Lian will even stop insisting it’s a friendly gesture. Mu Qing isn’t sure if this acceptance makes it better or worse, but he does feel a desire to gouge his eyes out with increasing frequency.
Mu Qing can’t have a single moment of peace as long as Hua Cheng exists—of this he’s certain.
When he turns on the radio, there’s Hua Cheng calling in a whole list of song requests for his “dear husband.”
When he picks up a newspaper, there’s a huge breaking news banner at the top that reads, “Xie Lian is the most wonderful person and husband to ever grace this world blah blah blah blah” (or something to that effect).
When he goes to a local art museum, there’s a new exhibit by an anonymous artist that is quite literally just a dozen sculptures of Xie Lian. No mystery there about who might be responsible.
When he is trying to relax after work, there’s Xie Lian calling to ask if he could use any red roses, since Hua Cheng practically flooded their apartment with them for no reason at all. He just “felt like buying them,” according to Xie Lian, whose ratio of exasperation to fondness needs to be recalibrated immediately.
There is simply no corner of this Earth that’s safe from Hua Cheng’s obsession with Xie Lian. All Mu Qing can do is despair.
“Why are you such a hater?” Shi Qingxuan asks. Truly, what a boring question. “Maybe you’re homophobic,” she adds with a thoughtful expression.
“I hate your relationship too,” he informs her, so she can submit that fact into evidence.
“Well, first of all, that’s offensive, because we’re really cute! But second of all, I actually think being an equal-opportunity hater is a sign of integrity, so good job, I guess.”
“Thanks.”
“I happen to think Hua Cheng is perfect for Xie Lian,” Shi Qingxuan continues, unsolicited. “I’ve never seen Xie Lian blush like that before! I bet the sex is grea—”
Mu Qing covers his ears with his hands. “Say one more word and I will kill you and then myself.”
He waits a moment before cautiously lowering his arms.
Shi Qingxuan laughs. “Okay, drama queen, fine. I still can’t believe they got married the night they met. Like, I’m a romantic and all, but that seems wild even to me.”
Mu Qing is surprised to learn that even Shi Qingxuan has some sense. “Yes, it is wild. No normal or sane person would do that.”
“I wish I could’ve been there to be one of their witnesses,” she says with a dreamy sigh.
“I wish I could’ve been there to object,” Mu Qing says, not because he thinks it necessarily would’ve worked but because he thinks that Hua Cheng deserves to have more obstacles in his path. And it would bring Mu Qing some inner peace to ruin the moment.
“Well, you still could,” Shi Qingxuan says. “You know, at the vow renewal ceremony? I don’t think it would really have the same effect, since they’re already wed and all, but it would still be dramatic. Hua Cheng would definitely have you thrown out and possibly murdered, though, so I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“Vow renewal ceremony?” Mu Qing wrinkles his nose. That sounds like something he definitely doesn’t want to attend.
“Yes! They’re planning one for their anniversary, so they can have a whole ceremony this time. You know, I can’t believe Xie Lian will have two weddings before I even have one. He Xuan and I have been together for years!”
“Yeah, well, you two are toxic together.”
Shi Qingxuan shrugs. “Only a little.”
“Who’s going to be your best man?” Mu Qing asks casually. He’s sitting in a sprawled position to communicate that he doesn’t care about the answer and that he’s definitely not going to fly into a rage if the answer is Feng Xin.
“Oh, I don’t think we’re going to do all that. It’ll be more of a party than anything,” Xie Lian explains.
Feng Xin is pouting, which means he was hoping the answer would be him. Suddenly, Mu Qing’s day is looking much brighter, even if he has to sit here and discuss this event.
“We’ll probably just have a few speeches at dinner, if either of you wants to say a few words.”
“I will,” Feng Xin says immediately.
Mu Qing side-eyes him. “I will too,” he challenges, not to be outdone.
When the day of the vow renewal arrives, Mu Qing still has no idea what he’s going to say at dinner, but it can’t be any worse than whatever Feng Xin has managed to cobble together. Mu Qing hears him practicing his speech in front of the bathroom mirrors at the venue, and it sounds terrible.
At this point, Mu Qing is somewhat inoculated to the disgusting syrupy mess of Xie Lian and Hua Cheng’s relationship, so he manages to survive the vows with minimal feigned gagging (but not zero. Never zero). All he really recalls is that Xie Lian says something about rediscovering the simplicity of happiness, and Hua Cheng goes on a whole rant about Xie Lian being his dream and other nonsensical bullshit that has Shi Qingxuan dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve.
The speeches are a real mixed bag. He Xuan gives the driest and least sentimental speech Mu Qing has ever heard, which he can appreciate. Shi Qingxuan’s is a lot more animated, so he tunes most of it out. Feng Xin possesses no eloquence at all, so despite having rehearsed he subjects the room to a stream of consciousness about how great Xie Lian is while Mu Qing laughs meanly.
Mu Qing is the last one to stand, and he has little to say on the matter at this point.
Hua Cheng may be a crazy bastard, but if Xie Lian is choosing to reaffirm their marriage right now, he’s well past intervention. Their love may gross out Mu Qing to no end, but he’s not totally ignorant of how happy Xie Lian seems these days. It’s just unfortunate that Xie Lian being happy is accompanied by Hua Cheng’s happiness—something Mu Qing frankly hates to see.
“When I first met Hua Cheng, I didn’t like him,” Mu Qing says by way of beginning his speech. “And I still don’t. Xie Lian is way too good for him.”
The crowd laughs—though anyone here who knows Mu Qing must be aware he’s not joking—and Mu Qing’s gaze finds Hua Cheng’s hard stare. He’s about to scowl and look away when Hua Cheng tips his head in agreement and raises his glass.
Mu Qing narrows his eyes, considering, before he lifts his own glass in return.
Something tells him that, like it or not, he’ll be dealing with Hua Cheng for a long, long time.