Chapter Text
On their two month anniversary, under the softly lit lights of the same cafe they met in, Binghe’s boyfriend dumped him.
At the other end of the table sat a small man with round glasses that made his eyes appear bigger. By his side, a male friend he brought with him, for “safety" he said. From what, Binghe could only guess. That friend stared him down while his boyfriend poured all of his grievances over Binghe’s head. Metaphorically speaking, although it wouldn’t be the first time he’d gotten a drink emptied on him. Binghe listened silently, because there was no need for his input, and neither the method nor the reason he was breaking up with him struck him with shock.
None of his relationships lasted more than a year, and it was never him to be the one to break it off. He would think these frequent breakups were simply due to incompatibilities, if it wasn’t for the fact that…
Why was it the same complaints every time?
Too clingy, too needy, too anxious, too insecure, too emotional—his soon-to-be-ex rattled off. No matter how much effort he expended to mend his faults in his next relationship, it always ended with these words.
Adding all of this up, the conclusion was a simple one: Binghe was the problem.
His only solace was that, this time, he didn’t break down crying in public, thereby embarrassing himself and his newly ex-boyfriend. That was some progress, right? If he kept this up, maybe he would become worthy of a successful relationship within the next few years…
The lack of tears left an aching void in its place.
Binghe left the cafe only having spoken one word: “Okay.” The friend sneered at him on his way out, then hurried to comfort his distraught (ex) boyfriend.
Progress, Binghe consoled himself where no one else would. It only hurt a little this time.
-
The door to his apartment opened into darkness. Gege must have been asleep. He quietly closed the door behind him. Pulling off his shoes, he squinted at the pair of same-size shoes sitting in the place he normally put his own shoes. In his haste to meet with his (ex) boyfriend, he must have accidentally put on Gege’s shoes instead… Carefully, he placed his brother’s shoes back the way they were before.
A sweet aroma greeted him upon stepping into the compact area between the kitchen island and the stove, cloying as it hit the back of his throat. He gulped down a mouthful of saliva in an effort to rid himself of that awful smell, then reluctantly dragged his gaze to its source. The trace amount of light filtering in through the kitchen window highlighted the flowers sitting on the sill.
Just yesterday, they were full and vibrant. Today, their petals browned at the edges.
He claimed to love Binghe, yet took it back before the peonies wilted.
Binghe took them down. It may have been little more than a step above a kitchenette, but this space was his—home to him. He didn’t need this reminder here.
His hand paused over the sink, halfway to pouring the water out of the vase.
Just let go, Binghe. Isn’t that your problem? It’s like walking on eggshells with you. Say one wrong thing, you can’t get it out of your head. Say the right thing, and you take it as permission to intrude on my space all day.
Binghe knew. He knew already, so why did everyone have to point it out so cruelly? Couldn’t they lie to him like they lied the entire relationship?
The light flicked on, and a voice resounded from right behind him:
“Binghe.”
Binghe whipped around to face the owner of that voice.
“Gege!” He placed the vase back down on the counter, wincing at the clunk and the splash of water. “Don’t scare me.”
Luo Bingge’s eyes followed his movements before crossing his arms. “Why are you scared? Sneaking around like this almost makes it seem like you have something to hide.”
Binghe crossed his arms back at him. “Who’s hiding something? I’m just being a good brother who doesn’t want to disturb his gege’s sleep.”
If anything, it was Luo Bingge sneaking around. Binghe narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
Plastered on Luo Bingge’s face was one of his fake-ass smiles belonging to the “I’m fucking with you” department. Although, as far as Binghe was concerned, all of them fell under that category.
“If it’s about the fact that you stole my new, expensive shoes…” Luo Bingge rose an eyebrow pointedly at Binghe’s feet. “Assuming, of course, it was the simple mistake of someone in a hurry to leave… I can’t be too mad. As long as you didn’t scuff them or cover them in dirt.”
Binghe averted his gaze. He didn’t check… “Now that you’re up, what do you want for dinner? I can make something sweet for you too.”
“I’ve already forgiven you,” Luo Bingge said, his expression softening into something more genuine. “You don’t need to do anything to make it up to me. Why don’t I handle dinner today?”
“Gege must be tired from work,” Binghe cajoled, “we already agreed that I would do all the cooking and chores so that you could have a break. You should go rest; I’ll take care of everything.”
“Hmm. I bought some pork earlier today, use it to make stir fry.”
Just like that, Luo Bingge turned back to his bedroom. Once he was out of sight, Binghe allowed the frown back onto his face.
He flew through dinner prep in a daze. When his mind returned to him, he was in the middle of chopping vegetables. If his hands were any less practiced, he may have cut himself.
See, you’re always so anxious, so afraid I’m going to leave you. I hadn’t even said anything yet, and you were already making that expression.
Wouldn’t anyone be afraid? Wasn’t he right, in the end?
It would get tiring for anyone having to reassure you all the time.
…I’m sorry.
Liar.
No matter how hard Binghe tried, always doing his best to hide his anxiety, never bothering anyone with his pleas for reassurance, telling them not to worry about him—it was all futile, wasn’t it? They could sense the depth of his insecurities. And they would say that they wanted to make sure he was comforted because they cared about him…
The chop of the knife hitting the cutting board for the final time echoed in the silent kitchen.
More lies.
His absent tears finally decided to make their appearance.
Stupid, he admonished his tear ducts. Always watering at the worst moment, just to embarrass him! After only two months, what normal person would be upset? Furiously wiping his face, he peered down at the vegetables he had chopped. They were diced too fine, but he didn’t care to start over. Gege deserved it for startling him.
He tossed everything in the wok. As he turned up the heat, his mind wandered yet again.
Selfish, it reverberated. Binghe was a selfish man. He desperately wanted to be loved, even if it meant wasting someone else’s time on him. Minutes after being dumped, he was already thinking about how he would find his next boyfriend. It was difficult enough to find another man to date, and that was when he wasn’t getting stood up because one of their friends warned them about him.
He cut that train of thought short. What was the point of all this wasted time and effort? Everyone would be happier if he stopped inflicting himself on others.
Time passed unknowingly to him, and the suffocating stench of smoke entered his nose. Dejectedly, he lowered his head to stare at the burning food. The heat had been set too high the entire time.
He didn’t bother to attempt to salvage it. It was ruined anyway, who cared…
Binghe even managed to ruin dinner. He was truly useless.
The smell of smoke traveled throughout the apartment. He finally turned the stove off when he heard the sound of a door closing and unhurried footsteps closing in.
A sigh, and Luo Bingge shouldered past him to take the smoking wok off the stove, smother it with a lid, and dump it in the sink. He cracked open the nearby windows in an attempt to ventilate the apartment, covering his nose as he waved the smoke out.
The smoke inhalation must have been getting to Binghe, because the only thought going through his mind at that moment was that they really needed new smoke alarms… He sniffled, then coughed.
A hand pressed against his forehead.
“Are you sick?” Not feeling anything amiss, Luo Bingge pulled back. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”
Binghe lowered his head to hide the redness on his face. “...Nothing.”
“You don’t mean to tell me that you, Luo Binghe, burnt the food on purpose? You’re too good for that kind of blunder.”
Binghe scrunched his nose. “Then clearly you’re mistaken.”
“Binghe.”
Knowing what he was going to say next, Binghe mulishly stared at the wall behind him instead of his face. In doing so, he missed the flick coming for his forehead. He flinched.
“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it,” Luo Bingge said. “You’re not useless or a failure because you accidentally burned dinner.”
Rubbing the sting on his head, Binghe grumbled, “I’m sorry.” He was really trying to be better. Why couldn’t he defeat some stupid thoughts?
Luo Bingge leveled him with an unimpressed look.
“I’m sorry for apologizing.”
“Stop that.”
“I’m—”
“I’ll cook dinner. You go rest.”
The smoke wafting from the wok had mostly cleared, leaving behind a thin fog in the kitchen. Luo Bingge scraped the spoiled contents into the garbage.
“Gege.” Binghe hovered nearby, unsure what to do. “I can still cook. I won’t get distracted this time, I swear.”
Luo Bingge rolled up his sleeves to get to work on scraping off the bits of food sticking to the bottom. “No. If whatever is bothering you is bad enough to distract you this much, then you should rest for today. If you’re worried about my cooking skills, then don’t—I haven’t gone rusty yet.”
“That’s not it… I mean, aren’t you tired? Making you do this after you worked all day, and I woke you up, all because I’m—”
“Alright, I’ll phrase it another way.” Luo Bingge dropped the wok back into the sink to face Binghe. “This is what I’m choosing to do, because I want to. You should know better than anyone that I’m not so weak that doing a little bit of housework will do me in. I care about you, and would like to do something to help you. I’m sure this is a sentiment you can understand? Considering you’re so dogged about it.”
Binghe snorted half-heartedly. He mumbled, “But there’s really nothing wrong…”
Luo Bingge waved his hand in the direction of Binghe’s bedroom. “Go.”
“You’re really not tired?”
“I wasn’t sleeping in the first place. I was waiting for you to come back.”
“...Ah.”
“Go. I’ll tell you when dinner is ready.”
Binghe finally conceded and moved to leave the kitchen. He lingered at the threshold.
“What?” Luo Bingge asked. “Do you want to say something?”
Binghe glanced back.
“No, nothing.”
He decided to study in his room until dinner was ready. His focus remained poor, but he couldn’t neglect his schoolwork again because he was sad about a breakup.
A short time later, Luo Bingge came to his room.
“What are you doing? Didn’t I tell you to rest?”
Binghe closed the book he was reading. “It has to be done sometime. I’d rather do this than sit and stew in my thoughts.”
“Fair enough. After we eat, I’ll help you,” Luo Bingge said, then ushered Binghe into the kitchen, as if he were afraid Binghe would change his mind about eating dinner.
All of the dishes were set out on the table. Along with the stir fry, Luo Bingge had made fried pork belly, crisped to a perfect golden brown. The spicy and savory fragrance brought back Binghe’s appetite. Luo Bingge blocked his line of sight to push him towards the table before Binghe could glance towards the counter. He stole one anyway. The vase of peonies was missing.
He took a seat, picked up his chopsticks, mumbled out a thanks, and began eating. Then had to pause as Luo Bingge began dropping nearly an entire pig into his bowl, even taking pieces from his own bowl to give to him.
“What are you doing?” If he meant to bewilder Binghe out of his funk, it was certainly working.
Luo Bingge didn’t look up as he spoke but still managed to swat away Binghe’s incoming chopsticks. “It’s already in the bowl you ate out of, I don’t want it back.”
Binghe grumbled. In revenge, he snuck the last of the pork belly into Luo Bingge’s bowl when he was distracted, too focused on boring his gaze into Binghe’s face.
“…”
“Stop staring at me.”
“What, I’m not allowed to look at my didi?”
“Don’t twist my words. Why are you staring at me?”
Luo Bingge raised an eyebrow condescendingly. He went back to eating as if he hadn’t been asked a question.
Binghe scarfed down the rest of his dinner. The chair squeaked on the floor as he stood. He turned on his heel in the direction of his bedroom. Footsteps followed. As he made it closer to his destination, he sped up, entered his room, and flung the door shut behind him.
It slammed to a stop.
Luo Bingge pushed his way through as Binghe backed up.
“Gege!” he hissed.
The door closed with a click. Luo Bingge said, “I’m not going to let you lock yourself in your room to avoid me.”
“So you’re going to corner me here and interrogate me?” Binghe said between clenched teeth.
“I was waiting for you to tell me what’s wrong. But for some reason, you refuse to say anything. What am I supposed to make of this?”
Binghe folded his arms over his chest, hugging himself. “That there is nothing that concerns you.”
Luo Bingge inclined his head, the shadows darkening his irises.
“That boyfriend of yours broke up with you, didn’t he?” he drawled. “What was his name again?”
Binghe set his jaw.
Narrowed eyes glittered as Luo Bingge raised his chin, then drew up his lip.
“Did he hurt you?”
“No!”
Binghe snapped his traitorous yap shut. Good going, Binghe. That outburst definitely assuaged his concerns.
Sure enough, the edges of Luo Bingge’s mouth creased with displeasure. With worry.
With a heavy sigh, Binghe deflated. “...Not any worse than usual.”
Luo Bingge closed his eyes. When he opened them back up, his stormy expression had cleared.
He said, “I’m not angry, see. Come here.”
Luo Bingge opened his arms.
Heat pricked at the corners of Binghe’s eyes. He pressed his mouth tightly shut to stop his bottom lip from trembling.
He surged forth and buried himself in his gege’s embrace. Letting the warmth engulf him, he sniffled into Luo Bingge’s shoulder as he rubbed circles on Binghe’s back.
“Gege,” Binghe mumbled, his voice muffled from the fabric, “am I too clingy?”
“No.”
“Liar. You call me clingy all the time.”
“Don’t ask me a question if you’re not going to accept my answer.”
“Mm... But you’re still lying…”
Luo Bingge maneuvered them to sit down on the bed, then said, “When I say that, I’m just teasing you. I don’t actually mean it. If it makes you feel bad, I’ll stop doing it.”
Binghe shook his head into Luo Bingge’s neck. “It’s okay. I know that. But… other people aren’t teasing me when they say it.” He sniffled again, trying to blink the blurriness from his eyes. “I-I know I’m an anxious person, but—does that mean no one will want me?”
Luo Bingge laced his hand into Binghe’s hair, running his fingers through his curls. Binghe breathed out, leaning further into him, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Oh, Binghe, it’s not that no one wants you. It's just that…''
Luo Bingge craned over to his ear to whisper—
“Your taste in men is shit.”
Binghe’s tears froze on his cheeks.
He pushed his brother away, glowering at the shit-eating grin stretched on his face. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you!”
Every time Binghe got into a new relationship, Luo Bingge would say something along those lines. Who wanted to see their brother all smug thinking he was right!
“That’s why you wouldn’t tell me? Because you didn’t want me to criticize your choices? Don’t scare me like that.”
“What would you know? There’s nothing wrong with them, it’s me that keeps causing them to push me away!”
“It’s their own problem if they can’t appreciate your value and devotion.”
“That can’t be true! They all have the same complaints about me!”
When you smelled smoke everywhere you went, it was probably you, not the entire world that was on fire. Binghe was the defective one, the problem.
Irritated, Luo Bingge clicked his tongue. He left Binghe on the bed to go rummage through Binghe’s stuff.
“Hey,” Binghe said weakly, voice thick from crying.
Luo Bingge robbed the nightstand of what he was looking for: a candle. Peach blossom scented.
“You could’ve asked me where the candles are instead of destroying my room,” Binghe complained.
“My bad.” Luo Bingge dug around in his pocket for a lighter. He flicked it open. “This should help drown out the smell of smoke and tears.”
“A candle is going to help with smoke?” Like they needed more of that; Binghe rubbed his eyes to rid them of the aggravating sting.
Luo Bingge shrugged. “Can’t smell any more like smoke in here.” He placed the candle on the nightstand, then lit it.
Binghe eyed the mess surrounding it unhappily. “Why do you have a lighter on you, anyway?”
“You never know when you may need to start a fire.” As Luo Bingge moved to pocket the lighter, Binghe snatched it out of his hand.
Flexing his now-empty fingers, Luo Bingge said: “I can’t help but feel I’m being accused of something I didn’t do.”
“Cry about it.”
Luo Bingge scoffed, “Who’s the one crying?” Then, he unfurled the blanket neatly folded at the foot of the bed—a gift from Luo Bingge, 100% wool and still cheaper than getting the heating fixed for the umpteenth time—and gifted it to the top of Binghe’s head.
Binghe stammered, imprisoned in the blanket’s heavy confines, his indignation reaching its peak.
Then deflating.
Luo Bingge was already leaving.
“Hey…”
Peeking out from under the covers, Binghe trailed off.
Luo Bingge didn’t seem to hear him.
Binghe watched the flame of the candle flicker and dance. Peach blossom suffused into the air. As the wick receded into the wax, Luo Bingge returned.
Binghe swiped his forearm across his cheeks. “You’re back? I thought you left me here.”
“Just had to gather some stuff.” Luo Bingge procured tissues from somewhere, using them to dry Binghe’s face.
Binghe bowed his head, licking his lips to rid them of the salty taste. “Say something then.”
“You really thought I abandoned you? After being the one to pester you in the first place?”
Binghe didn’t respond.
“I got you some chocolate,” Luo Bingge said. “From my own stash; count yourself lucky.”
Binghe sniffed in disdain. “Don’t want it.”
“Eat it anyway.” Luo Bingge unwrapped a bar and pushed it towards Binghe’s lips.
Binghe clamped his mouth shut. He yelled, you know I don’t like chocolate! Stop trying to feed it to me! Or at least, he would have, if Luo Bingge hadn’t shoved it into his mouth the second he opened it.
“You—!” Binghe spit it out, then stabbed the half-bitten bar at Luo Bingge. “This isn’t how you comfort someone recovering from a breakup! You’re the worst brother ever!”
“The worst and the only one you have.” That smug smile was back.
“So you do know.”
“Know what?”
“Don’t go anywhere.” Binghe opened the blanket held around his arms to scoot over to Luo Bingge. “I don’t want any chocolate. Just stay here.”
A puff of breath fluttered a lock of Binghe’s hair.
“Alright,” Luo Bingge said. “I’ll agree if you don’t listen to anyone else’s words anymore. Listen to me only.”
Binghe didn’t deign that with a response. He rested his chin on Luo Bingge’s shoulder, over the soft wool of his blanket.
“I’m serious. Don’t listen to the shit they spew. It’s not true.”
“You already know my thoughts on this,” Binghe said.
“It’s not that you don’t play a role in their rejection,” Luo Bingge began delicately. “Let me take a guess. At the start of the relationship, you shower them in affection, doing everything they want and more, expecting nothing in return—all in order to gain their love. Am I right?”
“...Of course. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”
If Binghe loved someone, he wanted to do everything for them. What was the alternative? Not love them?
“I thought so,” Luo Bingge said. “And then, once you’ve gotten more comfortable with them, you begin to show your vulnerabilities. That’s when they become distant, right?”
“Because I’m finally showing them my faults…”
Luo Bingge tapped him on the head. Binghe swatted his hand away.
“Wrong,” Luo Bingge announced. “They’re starting to see that you’re more than an easy target to exploit.”
“But…”
Luo Bingge wrapped his arm around Binghe’s waist, pulling him snug to his side.
“Those people are like leeches to fresh blood,” Luo Bingge sneered. Unperturbed by Binghe’s side eye, he carried on, “They can sense your… susceptibility to putting up with mistreatment and sub-par affection. All they have to do is give you a little attention, and you act like they’re the greatest thing to happen to you. But they don’t actually love you. If they did, they would stay with you through your fears and insecurities.”
He squeezed Binghe tighter. “You deserve someone who will treat you as well as you treat them.”
Paradoxically to the tight embrace around him, the weight crushing down on Binghe’s chest lightened a little. His lashes trembled as fresh tears clung to them, and he clasped the pendant over his chest.
Luo Bingge’s gaze flickered to Binghe’s hand.
“Don’t listen to anyone who says you’re not worthy of that much. You’re my brother. Anyone who says you’re not good enough or attractive enough is an idiot.”
Binghe cast another sidelong glance at his brother’s narcissistic face. It didn’t have the intended effect, marred by tears as it was.
“What? Do you disagree?” Luo Bingge thumbed away a tear from under Binghe’s offending eye. When Binghe didn’t lunge into his arms apologizing and calling his gege the greatest in the world, Luo Bingge let his face fall. “I’m hurt; my own didi doesn’t think much of me.”
Wiping one half of his face with his sleeve, Binghe refrained from rolling his eyes. Out of brotherly spite he almost said yes, I do disagree, but caught himself. Having an identical twin was truly rife with pitfalls; insulting his brother’s appearance was the same as insulting himself.
“A good looking appearance is only good for attracting shallow relationships,” he settled on instead.
He’d experienced plenty of those. People drawn in by a pretty face, then turned off by the ugliness hidden beneath. At least those people fled quickly and didn’t give him the illusion of loving him.
Luo Bingge’s expression turned funny.
Ah. Binghe had spoken without thinking. Out of the both of them, Luo Bingge was the one who attracted that type of person the most. Intentionally so. Binghe didn’t mean to unwittingly demean him.
Luo Bingge leaned away from him. Before Binghe could get an apology out, he said, “You’re right.” He reached over to grab something. “And that’s exactly why you shouldn’t let them get to you. It’s not your fault if they expected you to be a pretty face and nothing more.”
He held out the tissue box to Binghe. “Understand?”
Taking the proffered box, Binghe nodded, some of his curls falling forward and sticking to his wet face.
“Good.”
As promised, Luo Bingge stayed with Binghe for as long as it took for him to feel a little better.
-
The consequences of being orphaned at birth meant Binghe and Luo Bingge’s early education was rocky at best, nonexistent at worst. Most of their life was spent trying to survive, with little energy left to expend even when they had access to school. Nevertheless, Luo Bingge had always picked up on and learned things quickly. Unlike Binghe.
That was why, when they became stable enough for one of them to attend university, Luo Bingge had decided Binghe would be the one to go.
It was also why, even studying well into the evening along with Luo Bingge’s help, Binghe didn’t make much progress.
The temperature began to plummet along with the darkening of the sky. With the flame of the candle blown out, the desk’s lamp was left as the only source of light to see his textbooks and notes.
At the present, his eyes were glazed over, reading through the same passage over, and over, and over again.
Luo Bingge came back with a glass of water and placed it on the desk beside him. “Have you figured anything out yet?”
Attempting to blink the fatigue out of his eyes, Binghe grabbed blindly for the glass. His fingers glanced against the side. Before it could tip over, Luo Bingge caught it, then handed it directly to Binghe. Binghe mumbled out a thanks.
“No matter how much you explain it to me, I just don’t understand…”
He understood each individual word, but his brain refused to comprehend them all together. The boiling frustration inside him, burning hotter by each dragging second, fogged his mind further.
“You’re tired,” Luo Bingge said. “You won’t learn much like this.”
Binghe squeezed his dry eyes shut. It wasn’t a difficult subject. Luo Bingge was surely more exhausted than he was, but he understood it perfectly.
“It’s… not because I’m tired,” he admitted. “To be honest, I’ve been struggling a lot lately.”
One summer’s break wasn’t enough. Nine months of cramming and stress and foregone sleep and stress and illness from the stress and exhaustion and more stress from the studies he missed because of his illness, and on top of that all of the studying he had to do beforehand to catch up for the entrance exams—
It felt like the spirit of his draconian primary school was haunting his every waking—and sleeping—hour. One year of this and he was still jolting up in bed in a cold sweat, a nightmare about missing a deadline ping-ponging around his head. Now in his second year, the burnout simmering behind his skull was slamming back into him at full force.
“Have you told anyone you’ve been having trouble?” Luo Bingge asked. “A professor, perhaps?”
Binghe fidgeted with his pencil.
“Binghe.”
Wasn’t saying something the same as admitting to his inadequacy?
A sigh punctured the stretch of silence.
“It would’ve been nice if you said something earlier,” Luo Bingge said. “What do you need? Whatever it is, gege will sort it out for you.”
A longer break would’ve been his answer. But even with Luo Bingge’s powers of persuasion, he doubted that was possible.
Binghe brought his pencil back down on the paper, scribbling out his word-vomit attempt at working out a chemistry equation. “All I need is to get over myself.”
Everyone else in his class was in the same boat as him. If he couldn’t handle this, he would only prove himself to be a year-two failure—and that a certain laoshi was right about him.
Luo Bingge slammed his hand down on the desk.
“Alright then. If your professors are useless, how about we hire a tutor?”
Quirking a brow, Binghe glanced up from his textbook. “A tutor? Can you afford one?”
There that cocky grin was again. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”
“I don’t want you to work yourself to the bone,” Binghe said, a frown tugging at his lips. “Besides, what if even a tutor can’t help me? You’ll only be wasting your money…”
“They will.” Luo Bingge closed the chemistry textbook, forcing Binghe to tear his eyes from it. “Binghe, everyone else has a significant advantage over you, yet you’ve managed to come this far already. This shows that you can definitely succeed. I’ll make sure of it.”
Two pats landed on Binghe's back. “Don’t worry. Gege will figure everything out.”
“But…”
“What did I just tell you? Get that worry out of that head of yours.”
Binghe grumbled, “I can’t force myself to stop worrying.”
“Then save it for later. Get some sleep. We can look for a tutor tomorrow.”
Agreeing, Binghe shooed Luo Bingge out of his room. He didn’t want to keep him up any longer either. Better to talk about it when they were both more awake, at least.
“One more thing,” Luo Bingge said on his way out. “You won’t be able to focus on school if your broken heart keeps distracting you. Take a break from dating.”
“...Alright,” Binghe surrendered.
His quest for love would have to be discontinued. For now.
-
After a night’s sleep, Binghe’s head cleared a fraction, and he managed not to burn breakfast. He ate alone, Luo Bingge having yet to appear. This wasn’t unusual; many times he had to put breakfast away in the fridge for him.
While packing Luo Bingge’s lunch for work, the man himself finally made his appearance. He grabbed breakfast, sat down at the table, and began to eat lethargically, mirroring the Binghe of last evening.
“Gege, are you tired? Is it because I kept you up last night?”
Two physically demanding jobs—martial arts teaching and construction—and Luo Bingge still took it upon himself to help Binghe with his stupid breakup. Binghe should have told him to forget about it from the get-go.
Luo Bingge waved a hand. The food fell from the chopsticks in his other hand before it could reach his mouth. He glared down at it as if it had personally offended him.
“I’m just not particularly enthusiastic about my job,” he said. “Making me get up early, treating me no better than a slave… Don’t look at me like that, Binghe. You know I can’t be picky.”
Binghe inhaled deeply. He wanted to say something like, don’t take a job that treats you like that, or what if I find a part-time job to help out, but he knew from experience it would not get him the response he desired.
What Luo Bingge said was true. They needed the money, and a part-time job wouldn’t suffice.
The claws of powerlessness were painful, and Binghe had long been familiar with their snare. He turned back to his task in silence.
Luo Bingge said, “Nevermind. Forget I said anything.”
“I wasn’t able to do it yesterday, but later today, I’ll make something sweet for you,” Binghe said. “Is there anything in particular you’d like?”
Luo Bingge propped his cheek up in his palm, smiling wryly. “Are you trying to curry favor with me? What is it that you want?”
“Why do you have to make it out to be like that?” Indignance laced Binghe’s voice. Was that really the type of person Luo Bingge took him for? “I was just thinking that if you had something to look forward to, then getting through work would be more bearable.”
“I was merely making some petty complaints. Don’t worry about me. …But if you insist on making something, how about lotus seed buns?”
“No problem.” Binghe knew the recipe by heart, the preparations already running through his head. He would have to make a stop at the store for ingredients and the lotus seeds had to soak overnight, but that was fine. “About the tutor… Since you have to leave early, I’ll handle searching for one.”
Luo Bingge agreed and left for work soon after he finished eating. With nothing better to do in the time before his earliest class started, Binghe decided to begin looking. He wasn’t sure where exactly one would find a tutor, so he started by searching on the internet.
While scrolling through a list of tutors in his city, a particular name caught his eye.
Shen Qingqiu.
No way… His primary school teacher, Shen-laoshi?
Out of curiosity, he opened the description of his service. Reading it, the corners of his mouth twitched.
"I offer tutelage in all subjects. If you can handle a strict, no-nonsense teaching style, then I will make sure you leave with a full understanding of your subject with a 100% guarantee. If you want someone softer, my services are not recommended."
If Binghe had any doubts that this was the same Shen Qingqiu he knew, this description obliterated them. That was Shen-laoshi, alright… Imagining Shen Qingqiu as his tutor, he shuddered. If being taught in one of his classes wasn’t bad enough, having his full attention on him… Another shudder bolted through his body.
As expected, Shen Qingqiu’s rates per session were also exorbitant. His finger hovered over the back button as he skimmed the rest of the description. Then froze there. His eyes caught on a different name with the “Shen” surname attached.
His heart quivered.
"If you do want someone softer, contact Shen Yuan."
Shen Yuan… Shen Yuan…
Binghe’s mind overflowed with memories of a soft smile accompanied by a gentle voice, mussed black hair, and affectionate light brown eyes framed by round glasses. His scalp tingled with the phantom feeling of slender fingers patting him on the head, combing through his hair, caressing him when he was upset.
His heart fluttered erratically like the dying beats of a butterfly’s wings. He clamped his hand over his chest. Don’t tell him this was how he would find out he had some kind of underlying heart condition? He couldn’t die now, not when…!
Could it really be the same Shen Yuan? His Yuan-ge?
Someone softer… That sounded like Yuan-ge. To Binghe, he was endlessly gentle and patient. Yuan-ge would make a great teacher.
Shen Yuan had never mentioned anything about being related to Shen Qingqiu, but he never said much about his family in general, besides his sister. Now that he thought about it, Shen Yuan did bear a resemblance to Shen Qingqiu. His kindness softened the sharp features of Shen Qingqiu’s face, making it difficult to notice their similarities—but they were there.
Everything added up.
The description ended on that one sentence. After that was two sets of contact details. Shen Yuan’s contact details.
Binghe thought he would never see Yuan-ge again. Four years ago, Binghe had no way to find or contact him, and by the time he did, it was too late. He’d never gotten an explanation for why Shen Yuan had left.
And now, right in front of his face, was the way to meet him.
The hand holding his phone trembled. Reading was rendered difficult by the way the words shook. He peeled his eyes from Shen Yuan’s contact details to look at the time.
7:29. He had to get going to class.
Pushing down the frustration and excitement and anxiety melding into one indecipherable mass inside him, he shut off his phone without exiting the page, afraid that if he did, it would somehow disappear.
Focusing on class was a lost cause. His mind was filled with Shen Yuan, the feelings he had buried away bubbling to the surface like a dormant volcano edging closer to eruption.
This was it. This time, Binghe would finally reach out and grasp the one for him.
-
At the first available opportunity, he wrested his phone from his pocket and turned it on. Holding his breath, he put in his passcode.
The sight of Shen Yuan’s email address greeted him. He breathed out.
What should he do? He wanted to tell Shen Yuan it was him, tell him everything he always longed to, tell him how much he missed him… But what if it scared him away? What if he didn’t remember Binghe? What if…
No, he should first send an email as if he were simply a student looking for a tutor. Once they met in person, he would then know if it really was Yuan-ge—and more importantly, how he felt about Binghe.
Drafting the email, he again lost himself in contemplation. He couldn’t introduce himself with his real name. If Shen Yuan didn’t want to see Binghe…
He put in a fake name. At the very least, he wanted to see Shen Yuan one last time, even if he didn’t like Binghe anymore.
After writing and rewriting, unsatisfied with the result every time, he ran out of time and had to force himself to press send. He wouldn’t get a response right away, but it didn’t stop him from checking, jolting each time his phone vibrated with a notification.
For the dozenth time, he covertly scanned his phone. It was a text from Luo Bingge.
“Someone stole my lunch again. Put laxatives in it next time.”
Binghe scrunched his eyebrows together.
He messaged back, “I’m not doing that. I think that’s illegal.”
The instant he pressed send, Luo Bingge replied: “I don’t care. Someone has to pay.”
Putting his phone away, he released the sigh he'd been holding. Luo Bingge better not do anything of dubious legality…
The response to his email came the next day in the middle of cooking dinner. It was short, asking a few more questions, so Binghe replied with his answers.
He chose to prepare the lotus seed paste by hand rather than use a processor. It was how his mother always did it, and the steady action of mashing lotus seeds was a good distraction to hold him over while he waited for Shen Yuan’s reply. Once the paste was cooked, sweetened, and rolled between dough into a perfectly plump bun, he placed them into the steamer then checked the new notification from Shen Yuan.
His breathing quickened as he read through it. Shen Yuan had accepted him. Not only that, his tutelage was cheaper than the prices Shen Qingqiu had listed, and he allowed Binghe to pick the time and location.
Binghe chose a library nearby. Shen Yuan’s reply was much quicker this time.
He said they could start right away. Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, his greatest dream since he was fifteen would come true. Tomorrow, he would see his Yuan-ge again!
With a spring in his step, he removed the finished buns from the steamer and plated them. He went to Luo Bingge’s room and nudged his arm to wake him. He normally wouldn’t, but after once again losing his lunch to the workplace thief, Luo Bingge likely hadn’t had anything to eat since this morning.
Luo Bingge rolled over, blinking his eyes awake and humming in question. Binghe apologized for waking him and told him dinner was ready.
Luo Bingge rose from his bed, smoothing down his sleep-tousled hair. “Hmph. I was so hungry thanks to that bastard, I couldn’t sleep well anyway.”
“Did you ask anyone to do something about the thief?”
“They say they can’t do anything about it because they don’t know who it is. That bastard is lucky I don’t know who he is.” Luo Bingge turned his glittering eyes to Binghe. “Put rat poison in my lunch tomorrow.”
“Absolutely not!” He wasn’t being serious, was he? “Gege, don’t do anything stupid.”
Luo Bingge marched to the kitchen, and Binghe followed close behind.
“Load it with salt, then. My lunch keeps getting targeted because you make it too good.”
“Gege…”
Luo Bingge grumbled under his breath, “Won’t catch the thief, won’t allow me to leave to get lunch elsewhere…”
The darkness clouding his face cleared at the sight and smell of dinner. He waved Binghe off. “Don’t worry. I won’t do anything that’ll get me in trouble.”
“...Mn. Just sit down and eat.”
Luo Bingge went straight for the lotus seed buns. Sinking his teeth into the tender, sweet and nutty flavored pastry, his face lit up; it was subtle, but Binghe wouldn’t miss it.
Binghe smiled sweetly. “Gege, do you like it? It’s been a while since I made it, so I hope it tastes the same.”
“No matter how you make it, of course I like it. This is—” Luo Bingge cut himself off. “It’s good.”
Binghe’s smile dampened. “I’m glad.”
When Luo Bingge finished his bun, Binghe grabbed another one and leaned over the table to press it towards him, keeping the sweet smile on his face. “Here, here, have one more—”
Before Binghe could push it into his mouth, Luo Bingge took it and raised an eyebrow.
Clearing his throat awkwardly, Binghe sat back in his chair. “About the tutor… I found one.”
“Oh? What are they like?”
It took a moment for his question to register. He’d been expecting Luo Bingge to ask how much it would be first. Not this.
“They are…” He tried to keep thoughts of Shen Yuan out of his mind so as to not accidentally say something he would regret. “Patient…”—and kind, and gentle, and— “and not too strict. Supposedly.”
Luo Bingge must have taken Binghe’s nervousness to be his typical worries. He simply said, “Well, if you don’t end up liking them, you can just get a new one. How much do I need to pay?”
Binghe told him the total. Luo Bingge’s brow creased in concentration, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Binghe fidgeted his chopsticks together. Ah… It wouldn’t be too much, would it?
Eventually, Luo Bingge came to a decision. “Okay. Tell me in advance when you need to pay, and I’ll send you the money.”
Binghe smiled lop-sidedly. “Thank you, Gege.”
Luo Bingge’s eyes narrowed further. “Why are you thanking me like this? I was the one who had to convince you to do this in the first place.”
Binghe’s hand twitched. Did he notice something off? “I mean… Since you’re doing this for me, how could I not thank you? It would be disrespectful.”
Luo Bingge smiled. “I wasn’t questioning your courtesy, I was wondering why you seem so excited now.”
Binghe hid his face behind a long chug of water.
Luo Bingge asked, “Where did you find this tutor? Did you meet them in person?”
Binghe put his cup down and answered, “No, I found them online. It was a reputable site, don’t worry. When I talked to them, they seemed nice, so… I think they will really help me.”
“Hm. Is it a man…”
Binghe’s grip crushed his cup.
His gaze sliding down, Luo Bingge’s brows raised. “...Or a woman.”
Binghe loosened his death-grip. “That’s a strange question. Why does it matter?” Luo Bingge opened his mouth to answer. Binghe cut him off. “You… you’re not going to try to… seduce my tutor, are you?”
Luo Bingge’s expression twisted, the color of his face shifting subtly between green and white. Slowly, he leaned back in his chair.
“You’re right, that was an unnecessary question. I was just curious. I don’t intend to break my promise of not pursuing anyone acquainted with you.”
Binghe exhaled. “...Right. Sorry for doubting you.”
The rest of dinner passed in silence. When Luo Bingge left to go back to sleep, Binghe slumped in his chair.
He was too nervous for no reason. There was a high probability Luo Bingge suspected something was up now.
He put away the leftover lotus seed buns. The recipe made over a dozen of them; the two of them probably wouldn’t be able to eat them all. Thinking about what to do with the excess, his mind drifted back to Shen Yuan. Shen Yuan… right! He could give some to Yuan-ge! Binghe had always wanted to cook for him, but didn’t have many opportunities to do so in the past.
He stared blankly down at the lotus seed buns.
When he found out that not only was Binghe going behind his back to meet Shen Yuan, but also that it turned out he was related to Shen Qingqiu… and that Binghe knew all of this and lied to him…
Luo Bingge was going to lose it.