Chapter Text
“A-Ying, give us a spin!”
A-Ying does, holding out his arms, nearly hitting A-Ning in the head as he twirls. “How does it look, Popo?”
“Very dashing,” Wen Shiya says with gravity, hiding her laughter. “You look very studious. Do you have your backpack?”
“Yep!”
“Your lunch?”
“Uh-huh!”
“Your books?”
“Popo! I’ve got everything!”
“Alright then.” Wen Shiya mimes wiping away a tear, making A-Ying giggle. “I guess you’re all grown up and ready for school.”
“I’m ready. Come on, A-Ning! We’re gonna be late!”
“We don’t have to leave for another ten minutes,” A-Qing corrects. “Finish your breakfast.”
A-Ying pouts at her, but takes a seat at the table all the same. He doesn’t eat much, though, more stirring the food around in his bowl than actually consuming any of it.
Wen Shiya doesn’t mind. It’s a big day for A-Ying, and the excitement has clearly robbed him of his appetite. She anticipated this and packed some extra snacks in his lunch to make up for it.
Once everyone has finished eating, or picking at their food in A-Ying’s case, Wen Shiya herds them over to the front door. “Photos!” she says, taking out a disposable camera she’d purchased for the occasion.
“Popo, we’re going to be late!” A-Ying whines, plopping down to pull on his shoes. Wen Shiya laughs and snaps a photo.
“So responsible! Just a quick one. Smile!”
A-Ying sighs, extraordinarily put upon for a child of seven, but scrambles quickly to his feet and puts on a wide, cheesing smile. Wen Shiya snaps another photos, then drags A-Qing and A-Ning into frame to pose with him.
“Popo, we have to go,” A-Qing says when, at last, the shutter button refuses to click, indicating that Wen Shiya has reached the end of the film.
“Okay, okay. Have a good day! Listen to your teacher, A-Ying!”
“Yes, Popo!”
“And play nicely with the other kids!”
“Yes, Popo!”
“Unless the other kids aren’t playing nice, in which case you have my permission to bite them.”
“Popo!”
Wen Shiya giggles and ushers them all out the door. “Go on then. Love you!”
“Love you!” A-Qing and A-Ning chorus back to her. A-Ying says nothing, his head dropped, but she can see the smile hidden on his face.
She watches them from the doorway as they all head off to school, A-Ying practically running ahead, calling to the other two to keep up. A few minutes later, A-Sang and Mingjue exit their own apartment downstairs and head off in the same direction.
Sending a quick prayer out to whoever might be listening, Wen Shiya returns to her apartment and picks up the phone.
“He’s off to the races,” she says without preamble when Lan Qiren answers. “And he looks adorable, I might add. I took photos, but you should’ve been here to see him off.”
There’s a sniff down the line, which some might read as haughty, but Wen Shiya has come to learn means that Lan Qiren is uncomfortable. “I am worried that my presence is not of benefit. I don’t want him to come to expect me when I can’t be there. Children need stability.”
Wen Shiya rolls her eyes. “What are you talking about? There’s a lot of things people could call you, but ‘unstable’ isn’t one of them. That boy needs more adults who care about him in his life, not less.”
This is met with silence. Wen Shiya sighs. Lashing out isn’t going to help. She stuffs down her personal feelings and tries to sound reasonable. “You’re half in, half out right now. If you’re going to pull away, then at least make it a clean break. But if you want to be there, then you should be there when you can. It doesn’t have to be all the time.”
It is Lan Qiren’s turn to sigh. He manages to make it sound very dignified. “I’m…not good at this,” he says, which Wen Shiya is sure is a big admission for a man who strives to be good at everything. “I don’t know how to be a parent.”
“Join the club.” Wen Shiya walks over to the blinds and peeks out between them, even though the children are too far away now to see. “But people figure it out all the time.”
⁂
It’s a rare day off for Nie Mingjue, and he’s going to make the most of it.
He should be working. Nie Mingjue can’t afford days off, and he knows this luxury is going to hurt when the bills come due at the end of the month. But he reasons he’ll likely be able to pick up some off hours here and there from his coworkers over the coming weeks. They’ve just hired a fresh batch of students looking to make some spending money with weekend shifts, and students are usually all too excited to give up an hour or two here and there once the luster of a freshly minted paycheck has worn off.
With this small peace of mind, he spends the day catching up on household chores, making some repairs he’s been putting off, which should, by all accounts, fall to the landlord. But Nie Mingjue has always enjoyed working with his hands, and besides, the less interaction he has with the landlord, the better.
It is early afternoon when he finally finishes his to-do list. With nothing left to do, Nie Mingjue showers and, at last, plops down onto the couch to spend the remaining hour before Huaisang returns enjoying the silence, and lets his mind and body unwind for the first time in a long time.
He must drift off at some point, because it seems that no sooner has he stretched his arms overhead, really allowing his spine some room to move, than he is suddenly awoken by a pounding on an apartment door. It’s not on his door, so at first he chooses to ignore it.
But the pounding doesn’t stop.
If anything, it grows louder, more insistent, until it’s impossible to ignore.
Nie Mingjue frowns. Whoever the visitor is looking for, it’s clear that they either aren’t home or aren’t interested.
With a growing feeling of unease, Nie Mingjue draws himself up, shoves his feet into a pair of slippers, and pokes his head out the door.
The sound is coming from the second story.
“I told you, she’s not home,” Wen Popo snaps. “Stop pounding on her door.”
“Stay out of it, old woman,” the man retorts and continues pounding on Meng Shi’s door.
“And what gives you the right to make a racket?”
“I’m her husband. And I said stay out of it!”
“I don’t think so.”
Nie Mingjue walks out of his apartment now and starts climbing the stairs, readying himself to intervene should the situation escalate.
“And what do you know?” The stranger snaps, finally ceasing his hammering away on the door.
“I know you don’t belong here, and know you shouldn’t be knocking on that door.”
“And I know that it’s none of your business!”
“It is my business,” Wen Popo says loftily, sniffing loudly at him. “I’m an old woman, as you say, and you’re disturbing my peace.”
“Listen, lady,” the man says, turning toward Wen Popo now with a glare. Nie Mingjue takes a step closer. “Back off—”
“What’s going on?” Nie Mingjue is surprised as A-Ying appears behind him, shoving his way between Nie Mingjue at the railing to hurry up the stairs. “Leave Popo alone!”
A-Qing and A-Ning are quick to follow, but Nie Mingjue is fast enough this time. He grabs them before they can reach the second story, not wanting more children involved in whatever is happening here.
“Go inside,” Wen Popo says, looking scared for the first time.
The man turns to look at A-Ying with interest. “Are you A-Yao?”
In response, A-Ying drops into a fighting stance and raises his fists. “I’m A-Ying!” he shouts, “and I don’t talk to strangers!”
“You need to leave,” Nie Mingjue says in a deep, intimidating voice, still holding back A-Ning and A-Qing.
The man looks at him for the first time, his eyes taking in his breadth, and the hard resolve in his face melts away. “Fine,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I see the bitch has got herself a guard dog. Poor chump.” He spits on the ground outside the Meng’s door, scowling, before finally turning to leave.
He shoves his way past A-Ying, who gives a kick as he passes which, thankfully, misses. “You tell her I’ll be back,” he hisses as he squeezes past Nie Minjue on the stairs. “He knows where she is. She can’t hide forever.”
Nie Mingjue watches as the man throws a leg over his motorbike and speeds off. “Charming man,” Wen Popo says. “A-Qing, A-Ning, come inside.”
Realizing he’s still blocking their way, Nie Mingjue steps aside, letting the children pass. He’s glad A-Sang isn’t home yet, but even as he thinks it he spots movement from the curtains in Meng Shi’s windows, a small hand disappearing behind them.
Shit .
Nie Mingjue moves past A-Ying, giving him a reassuring pat on the head, before knocking gently on Meng Shi’s door. “A-Yao, are you in there? They’re gone, it’s just us now.”
There’s a long pause. Maybe he won’t answer, which is fine. Nie Mingjue can take a hint if the kid needs space. But then the door opens and Meng Yao peeks out. His face is splotchy like he’s been crying. “How many times do I have to tell you? It’s Meng Yao. Not A-Yao.”
“Meng Yao. Right. Sorry. Do you want to come hang out with me and A-Sang when he gets home? Just until your mom gets back.”
He looks conflicted, his eyes scanning behind Nie Mingjue, as though he’s looking for threats. “A-Sang could use your help with his homework,” Nie Mingjue offers. “They’ve started on fractions, and I’ve never been good at math.”
He hopes this will do the trick. From what he’s seen, A-Yao likes being helpful, especially if it gives him reason to show off a bit. After another moment of scanning, it seems that A-Yao has decided the threat has passed and he gives Nie Mingjue a nod. Nie Mingjue smiles and puts a hand on his shoulder to steer him downstairs.
“Come on, A-Ying,” Nie Mingjue hears Wen Popo say to the boy as he and A-Yao retreat downstairs to await A-Sang’s return home. “Let’s get you a snack and you can tell me all about your first day.
Once they are safely inside, A-Yao squares his shoulders and looks up at Nie Mingjue with a strong chin and set expression. “I want you to teach me how to fight.”
⁂
That evening, after dinner, after homework, Nie Mingjue is washing the dishes when there’s a knock on the front door.
“Hi,” Meng Shi says as he answers. “I got your note that A-Yao is here?”
“He is,” Nie Mingjue says, stepping aside to let her in. She looks tired. There are dark circles under her eyes that not even her makeup can conceal, and her face is more pinched and thin than he remembers.
A-Yao closes his book and walks over to them, wrapping his arms around his mother. Despite his age and diminutive stature, Nie Mingjue can’t help but notice that the two are nearly the same height.
“You good?” she asks him, running a hand over his hair, which A-Yao allows with a nod. “Thank you,” she says, looking at Nie Mingjue now. “I’m sorry about this.”
Nie Mingjue waves away that apology. There are more important things to discuss. “Are you safe here?”
Meng Shi’s face twists a little before she composes it back into a smile. “I’ll be fine.”
“Not if they found us.”
“A-Yao!”
But Meng Yao doesn’t seem abashed. He turns his dark, serious eyes on Nie Mingjue, and there’s anger there behind the fear. “They won’t stop coming.”
“It’s…it’s fine. Please don’t worry about it. It’ll be fine.”
“Meng-jie,” Nie Mingjue tries to say it gently, but she still flinches. “Are you in trouble? What’s going on?”
Meng Shi sighs, looking away. “It’s complicated. Come on, A-Yao. Let’s go home.”
⁂
“A-Ying, is your homework done?”
“Yes, Popo!”
“Let me see it then.”
“Um…A-Ying forgot, he still has some to do.”
Wen Shiya chuckles and wipes her soapy hands on her apron. “That’s what I thought. Get away from that window and go get it done. They’ll be here soon, and if you’re not done you’ll have to work instead of play. It’s your first week, are you bored already?”
“No!” A-Ying insists, scurrying away from the window, though he looks back over his shoulder several times.
“We can do it t-together,” A-Ning suggests, looking up from his work. A-Ying takes a seat next to him, pulling his own worksheets out of his backpack as they settle in to study together.
Fifteen minutes later, Wen Shiya opens the door and A-Ying comes flying out of his chair and past Wen Shiya’s knees to throw himself at A-Zhan.
“Zhanzhan! Come on, let’s go!”
“Did you finish your homew—and he’s gone.” Wen Shiya shakes her head.
“W-we finished,” A-Ning says, clearing their assignments from the table. “Um. M-may I?”
“Go on!” Wen Shiya steps aside. Lan Qiren moves out of the way as well as A-Ning hurries after A-Ying and A-Zhan to the park.
“A-Huan, A-Yao and Mingjue are waiting for you downstairs,” Wen Shiya says to the boy waiting patiently in the doorway even as he keeps looking over his shoulder towards Meng Shi’s door.
“Thank you, Wen-Popo,” A-Huan says politely. “Shufu, may I?”
“Go ahead.” Lan Qiren nods to him. “I will be here if you need me.”
Thus, with the children handled, Wen Shiya invites Lan Qiren inside. “I’ll get Meng Shi,” she says.
Soon, the three adults are settled in around Wen Shiya’s table, each of them sipping a cup of tea, that atmosphere heavy.
“How are you, meimei?” Wen Shiya asks, breaking the silence. “I know A-Ying has been spending a lot of time with you and A-Yao. I hope he isn’t too much of a handful.”
“Not at all,” Meng Shi says, shaking her head. “He’s an easy boy. A bit…different from my A-Yao. More energetic, but easy.”
Wen Shiya chuckles. “They are pretty different, those two.”
“I hope it is not too much of a burden, to provide for him,” Lan Qiren says, in a stiff manner that belies his concern. “I’ve noticed that children A-Ying’s age require a considerable amount of food.”
“No, it’s no burden at all.” Meng Shi looks down at her tea, seeming to be searching for something to say. Wen Shiya and Lan Qiren share a look over her head and wait. “A-Jue has been home a lot these days,” she says gravely. “He used to work everyday, but I’ve seen him around the complex more days than not these past two weeks.”
“I’d noticed,” Wen Shiya says, fearing that she knows where this is going. “Maybe he’s wanting to spend some more time at home and has moved to night shifts.”
“No.” Meng Shi looks up at them now, her eyes red. “You know that’s not the case. He’s missing work to be here . Watching things. Because of me.”
“Meimei…”
“It’s true,” she says, punctuating it with an angry jab of her finger into the table. “He thinks he can help by doing it. But he’s just a kid. He shouldn’t be involved in this.”
“Involved in what?” Lan Qiren asks, keeping his voice even.
“You can tell us,” Wen Shiya adds gently. “Maybe we can help.”
With a sigh, Meng Shi leans back in her chair, her tea forgotten as she stares out the window towards the park, where there’s a clear view of A-Ning and A-Zhan playing on the monkey bars with A-Ning. Off to the side in the grass, Nie Mingjue is taking A-Huan and A-Yao through some basics of wushu while A-Sang watches. She stares for a long moment before turning back to the other two.
“I’m an escort,” she says bluntly. Wen Shiya doesn’t react. She knew this already and has long decided to keep any opinions on the matter to herself. Her eyes do flicker to Lan Qiren, but based on his lack of response to the announcement it seems that he knew as well.
“A-Yao’s father is one of my former clients,” Meng Shi continues. “We were together for years. He was an important man, traveling all over. He had an apartment for me and would come visit when he had time away from his work and his wife.” She pauses here, perhaps looking for a reaction, but continues when she receives none. “When I got pregnant, he told me it was fine. He insisted that he wanted it. He told me he would leave her. I didn’t want him to, I didn’t want to marry him, but it was still…it was nice to pretend. And he continued pretending right up until A-Yao was born. That was when his wife found out.”
Meng Shi takes her tea and sips it. “I thought she knew already. I don’t know how she couldn’t. After that, things changed. He stopped visiting, which suited me fine. Money came less frequently, but I had quite the nest egg saved up by that point. None of it mattered until he came.” Here her face twists into a disgusted scowl. “A-Yao’s father is a powerful man, but his power relies on his reputation. Apparently they decided that I was a liability. So he sent his lackey to deliver the news: I was to leave the apartment immediately, and they would take A-Yao with them. Apparently, fathering a child out of wedlock is a forgivable sin so long as you take care of the child, make a real show out of treating him like a son. Keeping a mistress on the side is less so. But I wasn’t going to let that happen. He isn’t a good man. Powerful men rarely are. I wasn’t going to let him take A-Yao from me. So I ran. And we’ve kept running. And he keeps finding us.”
She goes quiet as she swallows down some bitter emotion. “I never told A-Yao who his father is, but he’s a smart kid. I think he’s figured it out. We’ve moved a lot to stay ahead of him, but I knew it was only a matter of time before he found us again. I don’t even know what he wants with us anymore. I’ve never told anyone about him, I’ve never talked to the press. You think by now he’d realize I’m not going to, but he just keeps coming.”
There’s a tinkling sound as Lan Qiren sets his teacup back on the table and clears his throat. “I can come by more often,” he says. “I will speak with Nie Mingjue. He should not be canceling his shifts. I have classes during the days, but my evenings are free. I can be here.
“I mostly work more nights and evenings anyway,” Wen Shiya adds in with a nod. “I can move my schedule around. Between the two of us, we can cover it.”
It’ll take some doing. It’s true, she does work mostly evening and nights, but there are a few clients who prefer she work mornings. Well, they’ll just have to deal with it, or else maybe Wen Shiya can switch jobs with another colleague—
“Please…don’t,” Meng Shi interrupts her train of thought. “I appreciate it. I really do. But I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t ask,” Wen Shiya points out.
Meng Shi smiles. “I know. I’ve already started looking for a new place.”
“Meng Shi…” Wen Shiya starts, but then doesn’t know what else to say.
“Thank you both for caring about us.” Meng Shi deeps her head to them both. “But it’s better this way.”
Wen Shiya can see that her mind is made up, and that there’s little hope of changing it. Still. “Meimei, are you sure…”
A hand touches hers lightly over the tabletop. She’;ll looks up at Lan Qiren who gives her a small shake of his head. “We’ll be here until you’ve made your arrangements.”
“Thank you,” Meng Shi says, and there’s relief in her body as she says it.
“And after,” Wen Shiya agrees, swallowing down the tight feeling in her throat. “Whenever you need us.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
With everything said, the table falls silent again. Wen Shiya refills their teacups, and the three adults sit in a companionable quiet as they all look out the window and watch the children play, listening to the sound of their laughter and the birds in the park chirping as the sun begins to sink.