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Jiang Cheng doesn't know who Lan Xichen is, but that doesn't mean everyone else doesn't.
He is seriously contemplating drowning himself on the champagne Nie Huaisang has waiters tastefully distributing throughout the space when Lan Xichen makes his appearance. The art gallery, already stifling and bursting at the seams with far too many people, swells at the epicentre of Lan Xichen’s very presence.
He'd ask what the big deal is, but he has a feeling Nie Huaisang will give him a look that all but scoffs, "You must be terribly stupid", and Jiang Cheng is on edge enough.
Wei Wuxian’s return to the art scene is a much anticipated event, and if it weren’t for how nervous he was for it, Jiang Cheng wouldn’t even be here. A-jie would have been better suited for it, but her peacock of a husband was half-way to putting Jiang Yanli in a bubble with the way her recent pregnancy was going, and Jiang Cheng had to concede it was the right call.
Even if Wei Wuixan would be poorly served by having Jiang Cheng hovering.
And if Jiang Cheng finds out this Lan Xichen guy is some asshole art critic who’s been looking forward to ripping Wei Wuxian’s work to shreds, and Jiang Cheng goes ape shit, it won’t exactly spell confidence in his brother, would it?
Swiping a flute of champagne from a conveniently loitering waiter, he decided to put as much distance between himself and whoever Lan Xichen was. Better for everyone that Jiang Cheng pretends he doesn’t exist.
The accumulated crowd of sycophants the other man had gathered on his arrival helped in that endeavor tremendously. He goes almost half an hour without even seeing Lan Xichen’s face, but when he does...
Handsome, is the first immediate thought Jiang Cheng has, with the kind of certainty one has about the natural order of things: gravity exists, water is wet, Lan Xichen is handsome. Inwardly, he sighs in relief.
If everyone is just in this guy’s orbit in a bid to get some of his radiance on them, that was an understandable, if pathetic response to his presence. Everything was fine. Everything would be fine.
But the longer Jiang Cheng looked — because Lan Xichen practically had his own gravitational pull — the more not fine it became.
Heavenly maiden of a man may be, but that wasn’t all he was.
For all that they didn’t interact themselves, Jiang Cheng overheard enough of the man’s thoughtful observations on the pieces on display, and his commentary on topics around poetry and history as it related to the various installations enough to cement the fact that he wasn’t just there to be seen. There was an interest there, a genuine pleasure. He spoke with clarity, authority.
He could burn Wei Wuxian’s world down with one displeased furrow of his brow, and that wasn’t something Jiang Cheng could allow.
Fortunately, Jiang Cheng learned quickly enough that Lan Xichen wasn’t the type.
Even when the man didn’t enjoy a particular piece for reasons that weren’t pompous bullshit, he waved off his acolytes with a diplomatic, “It’s just not for me.” It was on the fourth or fifth such declaration that Jiang Cheng broke.
“It must be tiring being so well-behaved.”
“Excuse me?”
Surprised that Lan Xichen was closer than he’d thought him to be, and had even been able to hear Jiang Cheng over the attention of his company, Jiang Cheng inclined his head in what could almost be an apology. “Just thinking out loud.”
He didn’t expect Lan Xichen to join him.
Together, they stood before a painting of a rabbit encroaching on the personal space of a particularly docile tiger at rest before Jiang Cheng finally addressed his new companion in sotto voce, “Let me guess, not for you?”
The man’s polite veneer ripples like a disturbance in still water, caught off guard, before he shifts his attention to the painting again. “It isn’t without its merits.”
Barely withholding a snort. “Do you ever just give your opinion?”
“Due consideration is always necessary when passing judgment,” is his reply, and Jiang Cheng would be relieved that if this man was to assess Wei Wuixan’s efforts it would be done thoughtfully, but he’d already gathered that about Lan Xichen. He was the kind of man who handled everything with white gloves and the appropriate amount of distance.
Still, “Whatever conclusion you make wouldn’t be life or death, what’s the point of being careful with it?”
Like he’s feeling the steps of a path not often tread, but knows the route of, Lan Xichen eventually says, “There’s a belief that what we say holds power. That it shapes our relationships with others and ourselves.” Far more resolved than Jiang Cheng’s ever heard him speak thus far, Lan Xichen asserts, “Handling such an important thing with care is the responsible thing to do.”
Jiang Cheng thinks of his brother, the relationship they’d worked so hard to mend, and how even though it’s improved almost six months on since his return, there’s an absence of ease to it now. They are careful with each other in ways they weren’t before, the shape of their relationship forever altered. “How dutiful.” He hates what it looks like now. He hates their part in making it that way.
“You don’t agree?”
“To some extent, I do.” A quick glance at the man beside him shows Lan Xichen waiting patiently for more, and Jiang Cheng sighs. “When you’re too careful with things, you don’t reach for them enough. You’re too concerned with handling it wrong instead of just holding it.”
Once upon a time, Jiang Cheng wouldn’t have thought twice about showing up for Wei Wuxian. His brother wouldn’t have cared if Jiang Cheng chewed up some important critic, he’d probably have laughed the entire time while Jiang Cheng did it.
Now, though...
Now, Jiang Cheng has been on his best behaviour and has all but avoided Wei Wuxian, and for what? Because he didn’t want him to feel like Jiang Cheng couldn’t trust him?
Before everything happened, Wei Wuxian seemed to rely on Jiang Cheng’s distrust of his ability to get out of trouble, and then set him to rights. The one time he hadn’t was because Wei Wuxian wanted to be careful with Jiang Cheng in turn, and look where that got them.
With a huff and a shake of his head, Jiang Cheng resolved to do something to change that. He turned to go, but not before meeting Lan Xichen’s gaze once more. “Thank you,” he says, smile askew.
Lips parted, it takes a beat for the other man to shake his head out of his sudden daze. “What for?”
“Your actual opinion.”
Later, after finding Wei Wuxian amongst his own group of admirers and recognizing how his brother’s shoulders slacken just so when their eyes meet, Jiang Cheng settles in for an evening of verbal jabs aimed at his brother and glaring at anyone who thinks they can do the same.
For all intents and purposes, Wei Wuxian has never looked more pleased.
The asshole is entirely shameless when Jiang Cheng discovers one of the pieces he’s chosen to display.
“What the hell, is that me?!”
Wei Wuxian slings an arm over Jiang Cheng’s shoulders, inexplicably to comfort but more to prevent Jiang Cheng from strangling him. “It’s a huge hit, I practically had to beat them all off with a stick, they sold so well!”
“There are more?! Wei Wuxian, I’ll kill you!”
“How am I supposed to take you out for dinner if I’m dead, di?”
“You don’t have money.”
He winks. “I do after selling those paintings of you.”
Nie Huaisang doesn’t even bother hiding his sigh behind his fan as the pair grapple, though he does eventually have to step in and steal Wei Wuxian away. “You promised me a photo-op to go with this evening’s exhibition, and I can’t have you doing it with a black eye.” Over their shoulders, “You can murder him when we get back.”
“Keep him,” Jiang Cheng returns with a glower.
Wei Wuxian laughs, telling him, “Don’t wait up.”
He grumbles, suppressing his grudging smile as he turns to leave Wei Wuxian’s part of the gallery.
There are less people now that the show is nearing its close, and without the press of bodies and his brother’s laughter, the space feels cavernous. His footsteps echo as he approaches the exit where he finds himself lingering on a sculpture of a dragon circling its hoard of lotus flowers.
That’s how Lan Xichen finds him.
“Did you find something you actually like?” Jiang Cheng wonders, voice made softer in the relative quiet that folds into the dark around them.
When Lan Xichen says in that same resolute tone as before, “I did.”
Jiang Cheng is almost proud of him, his mouth shaping into a smile. “Good.”
With nothing else to say, he’s about to leave when he’s abruptly halted by Lan Xichen asking, “Do you come here often?”
He blinks. Once, twice. The silence stretches, and the flush of color at Lan Xichen’s cheeks darkens.
Awkward, he clears his throat. “Usually I’m better with my words.”
“Yes, you don’t seem the type to say things lightly.”
“I assure you, I don't.” Again, that resolute tone, though his hesitance makes him waver. Poor guy, he looks on the verge of apologizing for his bad judgement, and he almost does, “I didn’t...mean to make it sound like I was coming onto you.”
“You weren’t?” Jiang Cheng smirks. “Too bad.”
Lan Xichen’s lips part and there’s that dazed look again. “Too...too bad?”
He nods; perfectly congenial, perfectly understanding. “Yes, that’s too bad.”
“Wait,” Lan Xichen looks startled and then bashful. “I...I don’t...lie, and I did just then, I apologize.”
Feigning confusion. “You did?”
“I did.” His ears are red. “I did mean to come onto you.”
“But you’re usually better at it, or so you say,” Jiang Cheng recounts, amused.
Lan Xichen pauses as if getting his bearings, and says a little faint, “You’re being quite harsh by dangling me along like this.”
With a hum, Jiang Cheng closes what little distance exists between them and says, “I can be gentle, if you want.”
Licking at his lips, Lan Xichen shakes his head minutely. With their gazes locked, he decides, “No. I’d prefer if you were careless.”