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Thousand Autumns Fanfiction (click here to see all fics under this category) YanShen
Old-Fashioned Cupcake | 10 chapters | modern au ao3 | tumblr
Global Examination Fanfiction (click here to see all fics under this category) JiuHuo
happy womb-escape day (Qin Jiu birthday fic!) | drabble | postcanon ao3 | tumblr
in second-person | drabble | canonverse/postcanon ao3 | tumblr
Miscellaneous TO BE UPDATED
old-fashioned yanshen cupcake | 晏无师 x 沈峤 (晏沈) | Yan Wushi x Shen Qiao (YanShen)
xxxxx words, 10 chapters, modern AU, humour/fluff, corporate drama, hacker!YWS, pharmacist!SQ | ao3
(Image credits: ugukun. Thank you for the wonderful art! Please contact me if you want this removed.)
Summary:
Yan Wushi is fifty, and the successful CEO of the second-largest pharmaceutical company in the country.
He’s also single, jaded, tired, and...tired of fried eggs for breakfast.
And although he wasn’t particularly looking, an unexpected request by an unexpected employee, along with an unexpected visit to a pancake shop, may just hold the key to filling both his stomach and heart.
🌸 🧁 🌸 🧁
Status: COMPLETE (10/10 chapters)
Now available to read on both Tumblr and AO3.
Masterlist of chapter contents (or click here to view entire work):
Chapter 1: tumblr | ao3
Chapter 2: tumblr | ao3
Chapter 3: tumblr | ao3
Chapter 4: tumblr | ao3
Chapter 5: tumblr | ao3
Chapter 6: tumblr | ao3
Chapter 7: tumblr | ao3
Chapter 8: tumblr | ao3
Chapter 9: tumblr | ao3
Chapter 10: tumblr | ao3
Extra 1: COMING SOON...
Extra 2: COMING SOON...
♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ Also a little Spotify playlist (used for writing this but also probably works for reading) if anyone's keen haha! ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ
Sorry I haven't added any new fics, nor updated this fic with the promised extras - started translation as a hobby (sincerely not an advertisement, but click here in the event that you're keen to read them). It's been taking up all my leisure time, but I'm actually just happy to contribute to the growing number of translated danmei in this universe :')
But I interrupt this tumblr blog's silence with an absolutely glorious picture of modern YanShen (source)!! This is totally our favourite mature married couple on a date.
I miss this AU a lot, so rest assured that the extras will come one day.
old-fashioned yanshen cupcake | 晏无师 x 沈峤 (晏沈) | Yan Wushi x Shen Qiao (YanShen)
xxxxx words, 10 chapters, modern AU, humour/fluff, corporate drama, hacker!YWS, pharmacist!SQ | ao3
(Image credits: ugukun. Thank you for the wonderful art! Please contact me if you want this removed.)
Summary:
Yan Wushi is fifty, and the successful CEO of the second-largest pharmaceutical company in the country.
He’s also single, jaded, tired, and...tired of fried eggs for breakfast.
And although he wasn’t particularly looking, an unexpected request by an unexpected employee, along with an unexpected visit to a pancake shop, may just hold the key to filling both his stomach and heart.
🌸 🧁 🌸 🧁
Status: COMPLETE (10/10 chapters)
Now available to read on both Tumblr and AO3.
Masterlist of chapter contents (or click here to view entire work):
Chapter 1: tumblr | ao3
Chapter 2: tumblr | ao3
Chapter 3: tumblr | ao3
Chapter 4: tumblr | ao3
Chapter 5: tumblr | ao3
Chapter 6: tumblr | ao3
Chapter 7: tumblr | ao3
Chapter 8: tumblr | ao3
Chapter 9: tumblr | ao3
Chapter 10: tumblr | ao3
Extra 1: COMING SOON...
Extra 2: COMING SOON...
♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ Also a little Spotify playlist (used for writing this but also probably works for reading) if anyone's keen haha! ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ
🧁 old-fashioned YanShen cupcake | Chapter 10/10 [FINALE] | ao3
Shen Qiao gets through to Yan Wushi. He also gets access to his house, his finances, and most importantly of all, his heart.
(Continue reading here or under the cut!)
"We are going nowhere. Not until we talk it out."
Shen Qiao's voice is fuller with conviction and intensity than it's ever been, and Yan Wushi finds himself losing this round.
“Shen Qiao, I have nothing to say.”
"Then at least listen to what I have to tell you." Shen Qiao is unfazed, his gaze not budging an inch. "Please listen, Yan Wushi. Like that time months back when I told you not to touch me."
Yan Wushi is silenced; it's the first time he's called him anything other than 'Mr Yan', and he finds himself all ears without even trying.
"That time, you’d given in to my request despite yourself. I was delighted to see that you weren't like the rumours made you out to be—you were impeccably respectful, so respectful that it made every weekend enjoyable for me. It even made weekdays enjoyable for me, because we got to interact on good terms in the office." Shen Qiao breathes, and Yan Wushi braces himself for what he's about to hear. "The strangest thing was that, despite all your efforts to upkeep your honour to my request, you still got through to me, in the most compelling of ways—you still touched me."
All of a sudden, Shen Qiao grabs his right hand with his left. It should have been reflex by now, really, for Wushi to jerk his hand away, but shocked speechless, he does not react.
"You still touched me." Shen Qiao moves his hand along with his own, and before Yan Wushi knows it, his palm is in the middle of Shen Qiao's chest, right above where the heart's supposed to be beating beneath layers of bone and blood, and the tactile sensation, together with the sheer proximity of it all, is filling his hand with a warmth he wishes he doesn't have to pull away from.
Yan Wushi tries to pry his hand away, but he doesn't manage to. “Look, Shen Qiao, I'm really sorry for touching y—”
“And I cannot be more thankful that you did. Three months ago, when the world had given up on me, when my only friends had taken my heart and smashed it into smithereens, it was you who had taken the initiative to pick up the shards—even if it meant injuring yourself or your company in the process, literally or metaphorically. It was you who’d touched my heart, selflessly.”
Yan Wushi cannot believe his ears.
"Before I’d known it, all the broken pieces had clicked into place, more than ever before, and so much more than it did even back at Xuandu." Shen Qiao is smiling, and Yan Wushi feels like crying. "This place had felt more like home than any place or person I’d known. You had felt like home, and you still do.”
"Shen Qiao..." Yan Wushi breathes, bracing himself for what he's about to ask. "Does that mean you also..."
"I'm in love with you," Shen Qiao responds without missing a beat, his hand still on Yan Wushi's hand, still on his own beating heart. "I hope you can feel it."
He can, and he doesn't even need to place a hand on his own chest to know that his own heart is doing the same.
"Me too," Yan Wushi finally dares to let his feelings approach him for the first time in a while, and now that he's finally lifted the lid on his own heart, he cannot stop the words, nor the feelings, from pouring out. "I'm in love with you. To the point of death. I don't just want to be your superior. I tried being just your superior these past few days, but I don't think I can."
"I don't want you to just be my superior."
They're now only millimetres away, and by now, Shen Qiao's almost sure that he's gotten through to him, properly this time.
"Yan Wushi, I wasn't lying when I told you that I'd been kept up at night thinking about you," Shen Qiao pulls Yan Wushi close, and this time, the latter doesn't shy away any more. "But I haven't told you one more thing."
"What is it?"
"I don't just think about you all night. I think about you all night and day," Shen Qiao whispers into his lips, smiling. "And I hope that from now on, I can be beside you, all night and day, too."
(Halfway into the kiss, Yan Wushi realises that Bai Rong can keep the painting after all.
He doesn’t need it—not anymore.)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Yan Wushi wakes up to the smell of pancakes.
Enticed by fragrant wafts of caramel, he traces his way to the kitchen, and the sight that greets him is Shen Qiao in an apron, cooking them breakfast.
"You're up," Shen Qiao looks up, smiling sweetly. "Good morning, Yan-lang."
The sound, smell and sight shoot straight into his heart.
It's been one month since they'd gotten together, as an official pair—a full-fledged, proper couple. It's also been half a month since Shen Qiao has moved in with him (might as well, they'd thought, since he was going to his house to visit him every other day). If Yan Wushi had thought life was sweet before they got together, he's practically a diabetic by now.
He is practically a diabetic by now. And he's more than happy to be one, if it's from Shen-lang's brand of sweet.
(It's also a few days to his fiftieth birthday, and he thinks that he must have done something good in his past life, because this present life, he reckons, is just about the best gift he could ever ask for; their lives have intersected, blended and dyed into each others' beautifully, making for the prettiest painting he could ever ask for.)
"The pancakes are done," Shen Qiao dishes the flat pastries into plates, smiling sweetly. "Could you help me set the table? I need to wash my hands."
The sound, smell and sight shoot straight into his heart, as they do each time, and Yan Wushi thinks he wants to marry him.
After a breakfast better than anything they could have gotten from any fancy, kitschy cafe, they clear the table. All of a sudden, the doorbell rings.
"It must be the deliveryman—I've been expecting him all morning," Yan Wushi points to his cabinet. "I'll wash the dishes, so can you get my name seal and help me receive the delivery? It's in the cupboard furthest on the left."
When Shen Qiao gets the parcel, stamping Yan Wushi's personal seal as a signature to officiate the confirmation of the delivery's receipt, he sees the description of the box's contents—it's a new down blanket, and a winter jacket...as well as thermal innerwear, gloves, mittens, socks, earmuffs, a thermos flask, and three beanies.
Shen Qiao looks at Yan Wushi without saying a word. Yan Wushi doesn't need to hear his question, because he answers it anyway.
"Winter's already knocking on our doors, and our foolish Professor Shen here's asking to catch a cold, forgetting to buy himself even a single winter jacket," Wushi uses his half-chastising, half-teasing tone of voice—the one that, Shen Qiao finds, sends electric currents of warmth into his heart each time. "Regardless of what you say, I refuse to let you get sick. Also bought you your very own duvet, because I don't want us fighting over the blanket at night."
Shen Qiao looks at Yan Wushi without saying a word.
"What, shocked speechless? Touched beyond linguistic capability?" Yan Wushi teases, but Shen Qiao remains quiet, and the continued silence puts a lid on his jests. "Hey...Shen-lang, say something."
After a brief moment, Shen-lang says something:
"Marry me."
<3 Thank you for reading! <3
>>>>> Continue to Extra 1: tumblr | ao3 (TO BE UPDATED) >>>>>>>
🧁 old-fashioned YanShen cupcake | Chapter 9/10 | ao3
Hehuan Pharmaceuticals holds a huge multi-company gathering, and the folks at Huanyue are invited. Yan Wushi really doesn't want to attend, and even after Yu Shengyan's incessant begging, he shows up for all of five minutes.
Shen Qiao's 'doppelgänger' shows up, albeit in an unorthodox format. Bai Rong takes a liking to both of them immediately. Yan Wushi runs away, though at some point, he finds that he's got nowhere left to run.
(Continue reading here or under the cut!)
It's the afternoon of Hehuan Pharmaceutical's auction-and-lunch gala, and Yu Shengyan...cannot find his boss anywhere.
What he finds, instead, is Shen Qiao, or rather, Shen Qiao’s lookalike; his near-exact doppelgänger.
In painting form.
"What the heck," Shengyan gasps in equal parts shock and eerieness as he appraises the ancient Chinese ink-painted art-piece up for auction. "I'd always thought he looked like someone who'd walked straight out of a painting, but I really never thought that he really is someone who'd walked straight out of a painting."
He whips out his phone instantly to text his boss about it.
Shengyan, 11:45
Oh my god, boss. I saw this painting that's supposed to be up for auction in a few minutes at Hehuan's auction-lunch gala, and the man in the painting looks almost exactly like a long-haired Shen Qiao...except it's an ancient painting from twenty centuries ago, painted by some really ancient artist guy called Zhan Ziqian who apparently existed so long ago that I haven't even heard about him before. Although I'd taken art history as an elective in high school.
Talk about creepy! >_<
More importantly, boss, where even are you?! The event's starting in 15 minutes!!
Yan Wushi, 11:48
Not going.
Shengyan, 11:48
Not going?! Holy McCow, you can't be serious, Boss.
Sucks that Senior Yanmei went back to England a week too early, because I'm basically the most superior Huanyue representative here if you don't come.
...shit, that's terrifying.
Yan Wushi, 11:50
Not going.
Not in the mood.
Shengyan, 11:50
Pls, boss... :(
Okay. It's sad enough that you want to ditch me, but more importantly, this kind of concerns the social relations and affairs of the whole company...at least show them some face, boss? You're Huanyue's CEO and Chairman, after all...
Wushi does not respond. The event starts, and Shengyan is ushered into the auction hall.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Shengyan, 12:10
Boss, I'm serious about the Shen Qiao painting.
[shenqiao?!.jpg]
Is that not a long-haired version of him?! :0
The painting is even entitled, Ethereal Taoist.
Doesn't that describe him perfectly?! After all, he's got this godly aura, and he's always saying a bunch of zen things.
Shengyan, 12:15
Last call, boss - that painting's up next in the auction. If you want it, let me know now and I can still do something to bid for it for you. If not...
...that Hehuan young ladyboss would probably buy it. Just like she already has, for the rest of the auctioned items.
Yan Wushi, 12:20
...I'm on the way there.
Truth be told, Yan Wushi really hadn't wanted to attend at all. He's already got a ton on his mind, after what had happened last Saturday. More importantly...he's avoiding Shen Qiao. (Just looking at his face makes him feel either like he'd swallowed a screwdriver whole or stabbed himself on the little toe with the screwdriver; maybe both.) But Shengyan's text-message spam about the painting had gotten him curious, and when he clicked on the image...
It really is Shen Qiao. In long-haired painting form.
He needs to see this 'Shen Qiao' painting in person—even if he risks seeing the real Shen Qiao in person.
(He's been avoiding him for half a week now, and intends to continue doing so—maybe for a while longer, maybe for good.)
---------------------------------------------------------------
It's too late when Wushi arrives, because the auction is over. Not that it really matters to him. He's here not to buy the painting, just to take a peek at it; just to see it and scratch that little curious itch at the back of his mind. What he sees, instead, is Bai Rong holding the Shen Qiao painting while talking to the actual Shen Qiao.
"Never thought someone this ethereal could exist in real life," she coos, touching Shen Qiao on the shoulder. Yan Wushi can see him flinch from the pillar he's hiding behind, careful not to let Shen Qiao spot him). An unspeakable brand of rage starts crawling up his spine as he witnesses her actions.
"Your name is Shen Qiao, right?"
"Yes," is Shen Qiao's soft, reticent response. He isn't telling her off, though—not at all like how he'd told him not to touch him that way, months ago.)
Seems like he'd really been barking up the wrong tree the entire time. Seems like Shen Qiao may indeed be straight...though truth be told, Bai Rong would probably even manage to get the non-straight ones as long as she'd tried.
(Seems like Shen Qiao may really be starting a family soon, just as the caring old janitor aunties had prayed for him.)
As his ears catch wind of Bai Rong asking Shen Qiao out to dinner that night, Yan Wushi decides not to interrupt the two, leaving the scene.
(In his heart, he's mentally stabbing himself, in the heart and the little toe, for letting Bai Rong beat him to grabbing him—both the painting version, and the real version.)
---------------------------------------------------------------
Shengyan, 1:35
Boss, where are you?
Didn't you say you'll come?
I was so happy to hear that you would at least come and show some face, too...TT TT
Yan Wushi, 1:36
Yeah. I went, showed my face to the security guards and the fancy chandelier in the reception hall, and then left.
Shengyan, 1:36
You left?!
Lunch isn't even over...and there's still the after-lunch cocktail reception between the highest-ups.
We were supposed to both attend that...
Yan Wushi, 1:37
You can handle it.
Leaving all the social affairs to you, my young padawan.
---------------------------------------------------------------
It's been three months since Yan Wushi has met Shen Qiao.
It's also been three months since Yan Wushi has found himself here in his favourite gay bar in the gay district of Shanghai.
Funny how he hadn't found a need to 'escape' here ever since they'd met. Had Shen Qiao really, so instantaneously and so effectively, wormed his way into his old heart, taking refuge there rent-free, and accidentally, wretchedly, filling that old vacuum of his?
It's been three months. He's been the happiest he's been in his life these three months. Now that it's a month till he turns fifty, this beautifully-written story is tragically pulling to a halt; this beautifully-constructed universe is tragically collapsing on itself like a sandcastle in the rain.
It's been three beers, and three men have come up to him so far, trying to hit on him; trying to reel in a wealthy-looking one-night-stand. (None of them have succeeded.)
Yan Wushi is left sitting there for the night, wondering about what little it took for this young, otherworldly man with a ruler-straight sense of justice and humanity to have taken over his thoughts and feelings. After all, he's never really had things like feelings.
All he's ever had were one-night stands with random men he’d met at gay bars. Now, he doesn't even want to have them anymore.
Because all he has are feelings for someone who has taken over not only his thoughts and feelings, but his entire universe, a universe currently feels like it's all about to fall apart...except his back would probably fall apart first, because something, or rather someone, has just physically crashed into it.
Yan Wushi turns to meet his assailant—turns out it's the very person he's been trying desperately to avoid, and even more desperately, also to not pine for.
---------------------------------------------------------------
"A-Qiao?!" Yan Wushi chokes. "What on earth are you here for?"
"To look...for you..." Poor Shen Qiao was currently panting; he'd probably been running, if the impact from the crash was anything to go by.
"To look for me? Weren't you having dinner?"
"Indeed, I was caught up in some dinner meeting with a Hehuan superior that I didn't dare reject, just in case it would destroy Huanyue's reputation." Shen Qiao pauses for a few seconds, catching his breath. "It was the lady boss, Miss Bai—she'd told me about how she'd tipped you off, so I reckoned that she must be important. She seems to have taken a liking to me for some reason, but I eventually managed to politely decline her advances and leave early, so I went back to the office and asked Mr Shengyan where you went, and he said you came to this district." It's the fastest Yan Wushi's hearing Shen Qiao speak, and he barely comprehends the rapid torrent of information he's being given. "So I ran here to look for you."
So that's why he hadn't rejected her, or told her off. It was all for them, for him.
Yan Wushi feels like such an asshole for even suspecting him, when he technically hasn't even got any right to suspect anything at all.
After all, he's just his boss—arrogant as he is, Yan Wushi actually has enough modern logic to understand this.
"Don't tell me...you ran through this entire district just to find me."
"Yes."
"…and you searched every bar in this district just to look for me?"
"Yes."
In this instant, Yan Wushi wants to stab himself, because he knows that the bad reputation held by most bars in this district are not merely rumours. Had he not been a tall and buff guy himself, he would already have had it from more than one too many sexual predators.
In this place, someone like Shen Qiao would have been an absolute gourmet meal to a bottomless pit of starved animals, had he not been more careful.
"...that's dangerous, you know? What if you had gotten attacked? What if someone dangerous had tried to..." Yan Wushi trails off, feeling the feelings (the ones he'd tried desperately to numb with alcohol) rush back in full force.
"You didn't attend the event in the afternoon. I was worried that something untoward may have happened to you."
Great job, Yan Wushi. Great damned job. He slaps himself mentally—he'd just worried the last person he'd ever wish to worry; of all the people he couldn't care less about, it had to be the one person he cares about, to be the one to care too much about him.
"...sorry. Didn't mean to make you worry. Let's leave. I'll send you back to your accommodations."
---------------------------------------------------------------
Midway on the journey to the subway station, Shen Qiao speaks up.
"Can we talk?"
It's the firmest tone of voice he's used on Wushi ever since that day months ago when he'd asserted for him to not touch him inappropriately. Yan Wushi is, however, not ready to talk.
"It's getting late. We have nothing in particular to talk about. I need to get you back safely."
"We have loads to talk about. Please."
"We do not—"
"We do. We need to talk, Mr Yan."
Shen Qiao isn't backing down—his voice and gaze are unfazed.
"A-Qiao," Wushi sighs, recoiling slightly at the way he uses the intimate nickname out of habit. "Don't do this. We need to go home."
"No. Based on past experiences, it's best to settle things as soon as we can." Shen Qiao is walking towards him, bringing them in a direction that is not the way to the station. "After all, strike when the iron is hot, they say."
It's a Shen Qiao he doesn't quite recognise—it reminds him of the intensely-altruistic Shen Qiao he'd first met at the job interview, but with a little added something, and Yan Wushi feels an uncanny feeling tingle from his feet, crawling upwards.
"Let's go back," Wushi tries again. "This is going nowhere."
"We are going nowhere. Not until we talk it out."
All of a sudden, Wushi realises that they're now in an alley, with Yan Wushi back-to-back with one of the walls, and although Shen Qiao is still politely standing centimetres away from him, his intensity and conviction are looming strong—so strong that Yan Wushi suddenly feels like he needs to escape.
(And he gets the feeling that he's not going to let him escape even if he tries.)
>>>>> Continue to Chapter 10 (FINALE): tumblr | ao3 >>>>>
🧁 old-fashioned YanShen cupcake | Chapter 8/10 | ao3
They get carried away. Uncharacteristically, Yan Wushi shrivels into his shell.
(Shen Qiao lies awake wondering what this sudden situation really is: an unprecedented interlude, or an unwanted end?)
(Continue reading here or under the cut!)
Yan Wushi cannot believe his ears.
Specifically, he cannot believe that he'd been occupying the mind of the person who'd been occupying his own.
"You were thinking about...me?"
"Yes."
Shen Qiao's voice is quiet but firm. Yan Wushi doesn't know what to say—he did not expect the conversation to progress this way.
Yan Wushi doesn't know what to feel, either. All he knows is how much he wants to know what's been going on in Shen Qiao's head, so he searches his face and eyes for more information, hoping he'll speak up on his own. Unfortunately for him, Shen Qiao really is far from sober at the moment—his blank, dazed expression reveals nothing, so he figures he's got no choice to ask outright.
"What about me?"
Shen Qiao is silent, still not revealing the information he needs—instead, he suddenly sits straight and stares straight at him, gaze meeting Yan Wushi's own. Their faces are only centimetres apart where they are positioned on the couch, metres away from the television, on which the movie still runs despite its existence having been forgotten.
Maybe it's the tense atmosphere that their silence is casting over them; maybe it's the alcohol, or maybe it's the uncharacteristic way that Shen Qiao is accosting him—all these factors culminate in Yan Wushi's realization, somewhere in the soberer parts of his mind, that he'd initially made the right choice when he'd decided to refrain from asking Shen Qiao to his home at first.
Because in that instant, he finds his mind losing control over his heart, as well as his body.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Had Shen Qiao been less inebriated, he may have realized that he'd initially made the right choice when he'd decided to refrain from offering to come to his home at first, because in that instant, his inebriated mind has already lost control of his heart and his body; it becomes unclear whether it is his face that is getting magnetically drawn to Yan Wushi's, or vice versa, or both.
Millimetres away from Shen Qiao's ear, Yan Wushi speaks, the reverberation causing him to shiver:
"So it really was the scent of your lavender shampoo the other night."
Before Shen Qiao knows it, there are a pair of lips on his ear, wandering, searching and probing for the answers he couldn't say. After some exploration, they wind up on Shen Qiao's left cheek, as if to return the gesture from the other night; after a bit more journeying, they end up on Shen Qiao's lips, prying them open as if to continue the search.
The search doesn't last long, however, because Shen Qiao starts crying.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
As he pulls away, Yan Wushi realises that he'd gotten too caught up in the moment; too caught up in the flow of blood (and sensations and feelings), to various unspeakable parts of his being. As he notices Shen Qiao's tears falling from his eyes like a torn string of beads, he gets an ominous feeling that the world he'd been starting to construct, piece-by-piece, is about to start crashing down on him like a castle of cards.)
As he pulls away, Shen Qiao is now wide awake; sober.
"Sorry. I overstepped the boundaries," Wushi breathes, not looking at Shen Qiao. "Sorry. I'm sorry."
Shen Qiao wipes his eyes. The tension in the air seems to stun them both for a moment, but it doesn't take long for Shen Qiao to return to his senses. He starts staring, searching on the other's face for his eyes, painfully hoping he'd return his gaze, but his eyes are still averted.
"Sorry," is all Yan Wushi says, after the uncharacteristic moment of reticence. "I'm sorry."
"...Mr Yan, why are you apo—"
"Sorry. I was out of line."
Shen Qiao wants to tell him he wasn't crying out of a negative emotion; to tell him he hadn't been out of line, not at all. But Yan Wushi keeps apologising, denying him any chance to disrupt the flow of the conversation currently skidding downhill after a catastrophically wrong turn.
"You don't have to be sor-"
"I am sorry. I think we'd better annul this additional weekend contract—I'll get Shengyan to handle the necessary procedures, and compensate you for being the one to initiate an annulment of the contract without advance notice. You can also cancel your entire internship if you wish, with no compensation needed. Just let him know."
"Mr Yan—" Shen Qiao starts, and doesn't get to finish, because with a dull thud reminiscent of raindrops on rooftops, the door to Yan Wushi’s room closes.
(On the other side of the door, someone else feels like two things in them have, too, been closed forcibly shut:
The window to an opportunity he was only just beginning to feel hopeful about, and the lid to the feelings which were only just dawning in his heart.)
--------------------------------------------------------------------
The night is crawling. The second-hand of the bedside clock ticks listlessly, its tempo longer and more languid than usual.
It's the seventh night in the row that sleep has refused entry to Shen Qiao. He lies sober and awake, staring at the ceiling—he was not lying when he'd told Yan Wushi about his insomnia; specifically, his insomnia caused by him.
(Shen Qiao hadn't thought that the Saturday would end like this, his mind once again unwilling companion to racing thoughts.)
He starts to reminisce.
It's been a few months since they'd met—three, to be precise. Shen Qiao hadn't thought things would have remotely gone this well, and if he were to be perfectly honest, it has been nothing short of a dream. A while ago, he'd realised how happy he is here in Huanyue, where people have been unexpectedly kind; where he'd been unexpectedly fawned over for not just his physical features but also his impeccable work ethic (Ace Intern, they even call him); where he'd been unexpectedly treated like more than a refugee from a fallen company from which he'd been evicted; where 'overtime' is a word with unexpectedly positive connotations...
Where he'd realised that he'd found someone he'd be glad to spend both weekdays and weekends with.
He'd been thinking hard the entire week. It's been seven days since the day he'd accidentally let his heart take control over his mind, letting his body go with the flow, letting his actions do the talking for him. Yet, although he'd felt remorse over what was technically just a chaste kiss on the cheek, he'd also truly felt liberated, because that small incident had been the catalyst to him coming to terms with his own feelings.
The only negative feeling he'd had remaining was the fear that he (the 'he' for whom flowers were starting to bloom in his heart), might not feel the same.
Shen Qiao had caught himself beginning to think that he wouldn't be wanting anyone else to spend both weekdays, and weekends with, for the rest of his life. He'd never had such strong, foreign feelings—not of this particular brand. To think that they might be unrequited had felt like evil, crippling thoughts—they'd felt like sleep paralysis, keeping him up in the dead of the night.
A few hours ago, however, the alcohol had gotten into his head, resulting in him making the exact same 'mistake': letting his heart take control over his mind, letting his body go with the flow, letting his actions do the talking for him.
At first, it was remorse. Then, it was sheer relief—relief to see that his actions were being mirrored, and to know that his feelings were not a one-way street.
It was so much of a relief that he'd started crying, only for these feelings to immediately fall apart like a sandcastle crushed by its own creator; like a house of cards wrecked by its own builder; like a once-broken heart kept from beating by its own defibrillator.
'I overstepped the boundaries,' Yan Wushi had said earlier, apologising profusely like the prideless person he wasn't. It was also then that he'd gone ahead and decided that whatever had been budding should be nipped before it blooms, annulling the only extra time they've had to meet, shutting the lid on their bond, both literal and metaphorical.
Yan Wushi had looked so pained as he told Shen Qiao all that. Uncharacteristically, the once-feared, once-savage corporate monster was smashing his own heart into smithereens, burning the bits and burying them into the earth, never to see the light of day again.
(As he connects the dots in his own head, Shen Qiao reckons that it's not one, but two hearts that have become collateral damage in this situation.)
Indeed, they'd 'overstepped the boundaries' this time, and no matter how much Yan Wushi may protest, Shen Qiao decides that he must overstep them further—
He's going to get across to him, and properly this time.
>>>>> Continue to Chapter 9: tumblr | ao3 >>>>>>>
🧁 old-fashioned YanShen cupcake | Chapter 7/10 | ao3
Huanyue receives a tip-off from a competitor company that Yan Wushi is being watched by assassins hired by Tujue, with the motorcyclists from the other day amongst the waiting assailants. Shen Qiao, still embarassed from having gone too smoothly with the unexpected flow that night, is simultaneously concerned for his boss's safety, so he decides to watch them back...or at least try.
Yan Wushi doesn't want Shen Qiao to risk his life, so he invites him into his house, and in the process, finds himself suddenly faced with an opportunity to invite him, too, into his heart.
(Continue reading here or under the cut!)
It takes less than a week of home recuperation for Yan Wushi to walk again. The very morning Yan Wushi returns back to the office, he receives some unexpected news.
It's a short memo sent to his official email, from someone unexpected:
Yan Wushi, you're being targeted by someone from Tujue. Remember the motorcyclist from the other day? That was Tujue. The guy had accidentally misaimed and went in the direction of your subordinate instead, but he got lucky and ended up hitting the right goal because you decided to shield him in the end. They are still watching you, though, so consider yourself warned. No need to thank me, either. I’m telling you this because I owe you one, Mr Yan Wushi. Now we’re quits. ~ Someone from Hehuan
This is very interesting news, although he can already guess who'd sent the note—the new chairperson of the newly revamped Hehuan; the young woman who singlehandedly rebuilt the company one week after its downfall.
Bai Rong.
Yan Wushi chuckles—never thought she'd return the favour.
Years ago, Yuan Xiuxiu and Sang Jingxing, the respective chairperson and chief executive officer of the old Hehuan, had sent a spy. Specifically, they'd hoped that Yan Wushi would hire her as an intern, or even better, a full-time worker, before using her hacking skills to steal Huanyue's information. They'd simultaneously failed and succeeded, because Yan Wushi had seen through their ploys, but yet hired her any way. He'd been wise enough to corner her before she could make any move, ultimately coercing her to turn against them and spill Hehuan's tea.
She'd refused to spill everything, though she'd had no choice but to spill some. Had Wushi been in a bad mood, he'd have exposed her and confronted Hehuan, which would, in turn, have gotten her company in legal trouble for the attempted espionage. However, Wushi had decided to be magnanimous and let her go with a warning letter to Hehuan.
Seems like doing good paid off. Yan Wushi smiles, thinking that the goodie Shen Qiao might love this story. Yan Wushi also sighs, because with the current situation, he's got no choice but to lie low for a while.
Which incidentally also means that he can't resume his weekly weekend outings with his intern, even though he's already all recovered now.
He wonders if Shen Qiao is still amenable to visiting his home on Saturdays, even though he's now no longer immobile and in need of caretaking. The noodles he'd cooked the other day were really awesome; the movie they'd found on television that evening was interesting, and it was refreshing to see Shen Qiao tickled and laughing unbridledly at a romcom cartoon.
It was fun. Although he'd fallen asleep like an idiot halfway, it was fun. However, he realises he'd better not suggest that Shen Qiao visit his home—he couldn't bring himself to trust that his mind would have enough control over his heart.
Because now that he could move again, the risk is that he might accidentally make a move on him.
Speaking of Shen Qiao, he hadn't seen him all morning. He whips out his cell phone, sending him a text.
A-Qiao, come upstairs to my office. I have something to tell you.
____________________________________________________
Shen Qiao's phone beeps—it's a text message from his boss. As he reads the contents, apprehension crawls up his spine, accompanied by a sick, giddy feeling in his chest.
Fearing that a confrontation for his actions the other night is impending, he heads to the sixth floor with apprehensive, heavy footsteps.
When he arrives at Yan Wushi's office, the older man pulls a chair for him in his usual, gentlemanly fashion. Amidst the dark whirlpool of uncertainty and dread in his gut, he can't help but feel a growing admiration for his boss—he'd never envisioned that someone could be so chivalrous even after being taken advantage of in his sleep.
"Shen Qiao, I'm being targeted."
Shen Qiao wonders if that was a highly indirect and roundabout way of phrasing the words, Shen Qiao, I know you tried to 'target' me in my sleep that day.
He doesn't know what to say to that, but he can feel his face burn with shame. He looks at the floor.
"...A-Qiao, are you alright? Are you having a fever?" Wushi stands up, attempting to touch Shen Qiao's forehead. At the sudden contact, the latter recoils in shock.
"—sorry," Wushi retracts his hand, backing off, facial expression uncharacteristically flustered. "Didn't mean to touch you."
Shen Qiao is silent, and for a few moments, Wushi mirrors the silence.
"I'm sorry—"
"I'm sorry—"
It's the first time they'd spoken at the same time, both words and tempo in perfect harmony, and of all things they could have said, it had to be an apology.
"Please go ahead and speak first, Mr Yan," Shen Qiao offers.
"Okay," Wushi continues, hesitant. "Did anything happen the day you were at my house after I fell asleep at the table?"
Shen Qiao is silent, face growing redder by the millisecond, and shit, goes Wushi's mind, racing like a thousand panicked deers on the run. Shit, did I actually make a move on him in my sleep that night?
Was it, in fact, not a dream?!
"Shen Qiao, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do it. I didn't mean to do anything at all. I was drunker than I'd thought."
____________________________________________________
Shen Qiao cannot believe his ears.
Yan Wushi was apologising...for what he had done?
Something is strange in this situation. A few moments later, the gears click in his head.
Turns out he hadn't been caught after all—quite the opposite, actually.
Shen Qiao sighs, feeling a thousand stones lift from his heart. He realises he doesn't have much time to feel relieved, though, because he now has a misunderstanding to absolve his boss of—a pretty huge one.
"No, Mr Yan," Shen Qiao quickly corrects Wushi before his misconception starts simmering further. "You didn't do anything at all. Please don't worry."
"I didn't do anything? Then—why did you look—"
"Sorry, I was thinking about some other things." Shen Qiao's voice is reticent, voice sounding almost under-his-breath. "Please don't worry, as they don't have anything to do with you."
That last statement was a lie, though, and Shen Qiao knows it. He's been taught, as a child, to abstain from dishonesty except for the most pressing of circumstances, which means that apparently, his heart had gone ahead and decided that hiding his slowly-growing romantic feelings for his boss is a pressing circumstance.
"Oh," Yan Wushi sighs, visibly relieved. "Good to hear that I hadn't done anything untoward. Is there anything I can help you with, regarding your troubles, then?"
"No," Shen Qiao smiles for the first time that day, heart warmed by his boss's kindness. "Please don't worry, Mr Yan."
Something in the deep of his gut starts whispering to him, cooing, saying that he'd chosen the right target to have romantic feelings for. Shen Qiao shakes himself from his reverie.
"Mr Yan, what was it you were going to say...something about being targeted?"
"Right, I was going to tell you. Silly old brain getting sidetracked again." Wushi chuckles. "Tujue's attempting to assassinate me. They'd already tried to do that the other day with the motorcycle."
"...that was Tujue?" Shen Qiao's jaw drops.
"Yeah. Received insider news from someone I know at Hehuan. Anyway, this means you will have to be on your guard as well, because now they know you as my subordinate." Wushi's voice trails off, dipping decibels softer. "And this also means we probably can't meet out on the weekends for a while from now, so the contract will be put on hold for a while."
"Oh," is all Shen Qiao says.
(In truth, he'd almost also said, I can continue to cook for you at your house and bring movies if you're not opposed.
He'd stopped himself, not knowing the consequences of his words—he couldn't bring himself to trust that his mind would have enough control over his heart.)
____________________________________________________
It's Saturday—exactly two weeks since the day of Yan Wushi's attempted assassination, and one week after he finds out the perpetrators aren't letting him off yet—and Yan Wushi finds himself stuck in his house, bored out of his mind.
He's also hungry, so he looks into the fridge—it's actually not just eggs and nothing else this time, because there still remains a few leftover ingredients from last Saturday when Shen Qiao had visited. He tosses the noodles into a pot of water, waiting for it to boil. The water's taking a longer while to boil than usual—a completely normal occurrence, given that autumn has been gradually receding from the trees, making way for winter to arrive on the tree branches. As Wushi waits, he gazes outside his window, and what he sees almost causes his jaw to reach the floor.
It's Shen Qiao. On a bench outside his house. Wearing a large hoodie and track pants. No winter gloves, beanie or coat.
This will not do—the skinny guy will freeze.
More importantly...what on earth is he doing there?!
____________________________________________________
"Silly A-Qiao," Yan Wushi pants, having rushed out from the house. "What on earth are you doing here?!"
"Mr Yan," Shen Qiao stands from the bench, visibly surprised. "What are you doing here?"
"That's my question. I asked first, so you answer first."
"I'm here to stand watch and protect you," Shen Qiao responds, not skipping a beat. "I figured the assassins may be lurking around your house, waiting for you to emerge."
Yan Wushi facepalms—on one hand, his heart is feeling warmer than a pavement on a summer day at the thought that Shen Qiao wants to protect him. On the other hand...
“…for someone with a PhD, you can be so silly sometimes, Shen Qiao. What if you become the one to get attacked?!"
"Don't worry, Mr Yan. I wore a bulletproof vest," is Shen Qiao's calm response, sounding like he'd just uttered something completely normal.
"Go back now," Yan Wushi puts on his sternest, most paternalistic voice. "Plus, you didn't bring a proper winter coat—not even a scarf! You'll freeze your skinny ass silly at this rate."
"I won’t, at least not for now. Please let me protect you, like you'd protected me the other time. Also, I don't own winter clothes—I left them back in Xuandu."
Yan Wushi sighs—seems like he's got no choice.
"…if you’re still insisting on protecting me, come protect me from the inside." Yan Wushi points towards his house behind them. "We can take turns to keep watch from the window."
When they arrive back at the house, they are greeted by an acrid smell of something freshly burnt.
"Oh," Yan Wushi realises. "The noodles."
They were boiling—now they're burnt.
Luckily for them, there are still two packs of noodles remaining in the fridge, and luckily for Yan Wushi, there's now also Shen Qiao around.
"I'll cook," Shen Qiao volunteers, sweet as usual.
"Sweet," Yan Wushi gives himself a little hi-five in his heart. "I'll get out the wine."
____________________________________________________
Accompanying their dinner of tomato-egg noodles and wine this time is a Japanese historical movie recommended by Yu Shengyan.
Twenty minutes into the movie, Yan Wushi starts shaking his head.
"What sort of weird taste does this kid have in movies?" Yan Wushi whips out his phone. "Even an old dude like me finds it boring as hell."
Wushi rapidly types an angry message on his phone.
Sent to Shengyan, 21:18 Kid. What kind of crappy-ass boring old movie did you just recommend me? -_-
He clicks send. A few moments later, his phone beeps in return.
Shengyan, 21:20 Boss, how can you not appreciate the beauty of Nomura Mansai as Seimei in Yin-Yang Master 2001?! That one's a super-classic! * ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა *
Reading Shengyan's spirited response, Yan Wushi facepalms. Shen Qiao laughs softly, quietly finding the young man's taste in Heian-era classical Japanese stories equal parts amusing and impressive.
"More wine for you, A-Qiao?" Yan Wushi offers.
Shen Qiao looks down at his glass and realises it's empty—he'd drunk more than he'd known. He hadn't even intended to in the first place, but he'd found it hard to reject his boss, so he'd eventually relented, reckoning that half a glass might be okay.
This is not okay—alcohol has never been Shen Qiao's friend.
"No, thank you." Shen Qiao can feel the blood rushing to his face.
This is not okay.
____________________________________________________
Interestingly, the movie did eventually pick up momentum, so Yan Wushi decides to continue watching it. Shen Qiao, however, hasn't been watching anything for the past ten minutes.
He's falling asleep.
"A-Qiao, are you alright?" Yan Wushi touches his forehead. "Whoa, you're burning."
Shen Qiao doesn't respond—his head is spinning too hard to do so. Yan Wushi starts chuckling.
"Never knew you were this weak to booze."
"I'm not weak to booze," Shen Qiao retorts, slurring slightly. "I'm jus' tired."
(Ironically, the thing about Drunken Shen Qiao is not that he's weak—it's that he becomes uncharacteristically headstrong.)
"Tired?" Wushi smirks, amused at his subordinate being unexpectedly out-of-character when drunk. "Not sleeping well lately?"
"Yeah, not sleeping well at all."
"Why not?" Yan Wushi asks, genuinely concerned.
"I was up thinking."
"Thinking about?"
The blood is rushing; at this rate, there's no longer helping the flow to his own head, so Shen Qiao goes with the flow.
"About you."
>>>>> Continue to Chapter 8: tumblr | ao3 >>>>>>>
🧁 old-fashioned YanShen cupcake | Chapter 6/10 | ao3
They were going to visit an island together. Unfortunately, their plans are thwarted, and Yan Wushi falls. Shen Qiao falls even harder.
(Continue reading here or under the cut!)
"Never thought you'd suggest an island, of all, places, A-Qiao," Wushi smiles. "How refreshing."
A kind smile dawns, also refreshingly, on Shen Qiao's gentle countenance. "It's another one of those ‘schoolboy things’ I’ve been planning to suggest all along. I do think it'll be a refreshing experience indeed, to get out there, assimilate the earth, absorb the atmosphere, and become one with nature."
Wushi chuckles softly. Truth is, of all people to ever have waxed and waned these sorts of 'zen' lyrical to him in his life, only Shen Qiao has gotten away with not receiving his snarky teasing remarks.
As they walk towards the ferry terminal, something unexpected happens—it's a motorcycle.
While motorcycles aren't at all uncommon in China, the thing about this motorcycle is that they're currently aiming for Shen Qiao.
Something about this situation feels strangely familiar.
Uncanny feeling of déjà vu aside, Yan Wushi has quick reflexes, so he lunges forward and pushes Shen Qiao away to the side in a quick forward movement, but this time, someone does get injured in the midst.
"Mr Yan...!?" Shen Qiao almost shouts, panicking, momentarily caught between chasing the motorcycle now absconding away from the scene, and bending down to help the older man lying on the floor. "Are you—alright—"
In pain, he hisses through his teeth, but thank goodness, is what goes through Yan Wushi's head. He heaves a sigh of relief—he doesn't think his old heart would have taken it well if Shen Qiao had taken the hit instead.
------------------------------------------------------------------
"Never expected our reunion location to be at the hospital, of all places, Boss," Bian Yanmei shakes his head. "Really should have booked my flight earlier—maybe then I'd have been able to protect you and prevent this. What on earth happened?"
Yanmei's gaze lands on Shen Qiao—in fact, Yanmei has already gotten wind of what had happened earlier the day before, thanks to Yu Shengyan's report. He is not pleased—least of all at the new subordinate who hadn't been able to protect his mentor.
"I'm sorry. It was my fau—" Shen Qiao starts to speak, but he does not get to complete his sentence, because Yan Wushi completes it for him, in his own way.
"—Come on, Yanmei. It's only been two years since we'd last met—has England fried your brain? Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten just how old your old boss is now?" Wushi smirks. "My bones are now creaky, so I naturally couldn’t dodge in time.”
Yanmei is almost completely speechless. In his head, he's also trying to make sense of two strange things noticeable about his boss:
Did he just, firstly, defend an intern, and secondly, make fun of himself?
"...anyway, thank goodness it was minor, and just your leg." Yanmei sighs. "You really are getting on your years, aren't you, Boss..."
The physiologist enters the room—it's Wushi's turn to do stretching exercises.
------------------------------------------------------------------
"Ow," Yan Wushi grits his teeth as the physiologist tries to massage his leg.
Never thought an inflamed tendon could feel this horrible—he can't even move his toes. (If he may wonder so himself...what exactly happened to the Yan Wushi who'd broken all four limbs before, only to lackadaisically shrug it off using whatever functional muscle he'd had remaining in his shoulders?)
"Please let me handle it, doctor." Shen Qiao tells the physiologist, seemingly stopping him from proceeding to torture Yan Wushi further.
"O-okay," Said physiologist is suddenly transfixed on Shen Qiao's face, almost dropping Yan Wushi's leg in shock. Luckily, Shen Qiao catches the leg in time.
"OW," Yan Wushi almost bites his tongue as Shen Qiao massages his leg. "What the heck are you doing to my poor leg, A-Qiao?!"
"If you stretch like this, you'll only superficially stretch the tendon," is Shen Qiao's calm response. "However, if you apply pressure on this spot, you will be able to release the tension deep within the myofascial tissues surrounding the muscles. After a few seconds, you will feel a lot better."
After a bit more massaging accompanied by Yan Wushi's screaming, Shen Qiao puts Wushi's leg back on the bed. "Try moving again and see if it feels better, Mr Yan."
Wushi waggles his toes and this time, he actually succeeds.
"Whoa, that was magical, Dr Shen," Wushi grins. "Never knew you had it in you to be a physiologist."
"I'm definitely not a physiologist," Shen Qiao responds without missing a beat, humble as usual. "All I did was take a short course during my postgraduate years alongside my main training."
Meanwhile, Bian Yanmei looks questioningly at Yu Shengyan, before looking at Shen Qiao again, and back.
"I thought you said he was just an intern?" Bian Yanmei frowns, confused. "Are you sure he's not actually Boss's new personal doctor?"
"Nah, he really is an intern—to be more precise, our company's newest 'Ace Intern'. Just ask Ruru and you'll know I'm not lying," is Shengyan's deadpan response. "You're kind of right in that he is like his personal doctor, though, because Boss actually does call him 'my Dr Shen' from time to time. Plus, he really does hold a PhD."
Bian Yanmei doesn't know what to say, but he figures he doesn't have to say anything—he's just relieved his boss is now in good hands.
------------------------------------------------------------------
It's Saturday—exactly one week since the day of Yan Wushi's assault—and Yan Wushi finds himself stuck in his bedroom.
Two days ago, the physiologist and bone specialist at the hospital, both marveling at just the fifty-year-old's astounding recovery speed, had put him on crutches and discharged him an entire month early. When Yu Shengyan had offered, in genuine good intention, to hire him a household helper to take care of him, all Wushi did was smack poor Shengyan on the head, saying that he "might be old but not that old yet, you harebrained doofus".
It's been two days since Wushi has been resting on his bed at home, getting up only to use the toilet or get water. He didn't have to cook for himself, thanks to delivery. He didn't even have to work, thanks to Bian Yanmei taking over his position temporarily at the office.
Life has become exceedingly easy, and Yan Wushi has become best friends with his bed.
And he has never been this bored out of his mind.
Not that he regrets his decision one bit. Because had Shen Qiao taken the fall for him instead, he reckons he'd probably have it way worse—after all, a broken heart is way harder to mend than a broken leg. And, interestingly, it is in fact this realisation which is currently worrying Yan Wushi the most—
Just how much has this person changed me?
He'd never envisioned the day would come when he'd try to save a person other than himself, at his own expense, without regretting it one bit. And he'd known, ever since the first day at the hospital, that saving him was worth every bit—watching Shen Qiao tenderly tend to his injury, give him a leg massage, peel him oranges, ask gently if he was alright, read him the news in that gentle, gentle voice of his—
It was, and still is worth every bit.
In the evening, Yan Wushi starts getting slightly hungry. As he prepares the delivery application on his phone, the doorbell rings, jolting him from his internal reflection over the events of the week. Unable to tend to the visitor physically, he picks up the phone and listens to the visitor's voice over the intercom:
"Mr Yan, good evening. I'm here to carry out our Saturday youth meetup, and to take care of you."
It's Shen Qiao—Shen Qiao and his gentle, gentle voice.
Yan Wushi is suddenly rejuvenated, all boredom and languidness draining from his body.
The broken leg was, and still is worth every single bit.
------------------------------------------------------------------
"Never thought you'd come knocking on my door, A-Qiao," Wushi smiles. "How refreshing."
A kind smile dawns, also refreshingly, on Shen Qiao's gentle countenance. "It's only my duty. After all, I'm getting overpaid for working a job this easy. Even if it isn't part of the contract to hold the meeting indoors in the boss's house."
Wushi chuckles softly. Truth is, he's feeling pretty nervous about the entire situation—
He'd never thought he'd see Shen Qiao set foot in his house this soon.
------------------------------------------------------------------
“Mr Yan, I wish to ask you something.”
"What is it, A-Qiao?" Shen Qiao’s expression is serious, and Wushi hopes it isn't anything about his silly, smitten heart—had he been too obvious?
"Why did you protect me from the motorcycle? I was so worried and frightened when you'd gotten hurt thanks to saving me," Shen Qiao looks so remorse and sullen that Wushi's heart would have been sinking any other day, but given the contents of his sentence put in context, Wushi's heart is singing.
Wushi chuckles softly.
“I'd just thought that I'd much rather have my leg broken over getting my heart broken. That's all.”
Shen Qiao frowns, confused for a moment, before seeming to give up figuring out what he’d meant, and continuing his questions.
“Then why did you defend me at the hospital, and prevent me from telling Mr Bian the truth about me not being able to protect you?”
Wushi smiles—it may be silly of this small and weak-looking guy to think he could protect him, but the sentiment is much appreciated—in fact, it's making Yan Wushi’s stomach do happy backflips.
"I didn’t protect you," is Wushi's reply. "All I did was tell him the truth—I’m an old man, unable to take care of myself. And this old man here is hungry now.”
"I'll cook you something," is Shen Qiao's immediate response, and Yan Wushi's stomach jumps with joy.
------------------------------------------------------------------
It was lucky that Shen Qiao had the foresight to procure ingredients from the supermarket on the way to his boss's house, because eggs were the only food items he'd had in his house. Nonetheless, the eggs did come into handy—it was only after arriving there that Shen Qiao had remembered just how much Wushi had enjoyed the scrambled egg tomato sandwiches on the mountain, so he hadn't initially planned to buy any eggs. Thanks to this small stroke of fate, he'd managed in the end to make the same tomato-egg combination into a noodle dish apt for a Saturday night dinner, Wushi's kitchen contributing the eggs, and him contributing the tomatoes—two ingredients that anyone rarely, if ever, would guess meld this well on first sight.
And it was lucky he did, because his boss had finished them ravenously, asking for seconds. Three bowls and a little red wine later, Yan Wushi is sprawled on the coffee table, fast asleep.
Just the sight alone is enough to make Shen Qiao's heart ache in equal parts endearment and regret.
His boss had seemed nothing short of endearingly happy tonight—though, in truth, his boss had, oddly enough, been happy the entire time he'd gotten injured on his behalf, saying things such as, 'I have zero regrets'; 'It was all worth it'; 'I'd much rather have my leg broken over getting my heart broken'…
Shen Qiao really wonders what he'd meant by that last one. He wonders if it referred to a sensation akin to the dull ache he'd been feeling recently in the centre of his chest whenever he does so much as to look at Yan Wushi grimace; to witness winces of pain reflect uncharacteristically on his typically-unfazed countenance; to hear the soft but audible hisses of pain emerge through his gritted teeth...
And through it all, whenever Shen Qiao does so much as to frown or to utter small words of worry, Wushi would only smile and grin and say things such as it is worth it.
Shen Qiao wonders if he really is worth this, and all of the other kindnesses he'd never remotely expected to receive.
The man sprawled asleep snores softly, and Shen Qiao does not have the heart to wake him, so he decides to drag him gently to the bed. He tries moving him, but he doesn’t budge an inch. Shen Qiao decides that the bed might be a little too challenging as a destination goal, and aims for the sofa instead, but eventually, he gives up, not wishing to exert too much brute force and waking his boss instead.
Seems like their size difference really is larger than expected. Despite this, Yan Wushi has lost weight, his face visibly sunken relative to the state they'd been in just a week ago. Shen Qiao sighs, feeling as if someone had made lemonade of his heart.
All he can do now is to take better care of him from here on out. For the night, this means letting him have the best night's rest he can...despite the fact that he's unfortunately stuck at the table for a while.
Gently lifting Yan Wushi's sleepy head, Shen Qiao applies some force into his arms, manoeuvring them as gently as he can to lift Yan Wushi's sleepy head. All of a sudden, Shen Qiao feels as if struck by a mysterious magnetic force in that instant, and as he places a pillow below his head, he somehow also places his lips on the left side of his face; a momentary but deliberate move.
Pulling back, he realises he's just done the exact same thing he'd said he'd asked Yan Wushi to refrain from doing—to overstep personal physical boundaries.
As he leaves the house, a wretched feeling of remorse and shame washes over him; yet, strangely and unbeknownst to him, other sorts of feelings were rising in some cursed, clandestine corner in his gut—
A hidden feeling that he'd just fulfilled some sort of hidden personal wish; a little feeling akin to having a little less space in the space in between his lungs.
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In his dreams, Yan Wushi thinks that he must have had a drop too much to drink, because he's hallucinating a fresh but familiar fragrance of lavender-scented shampoo accompanying a palpable but sweet, soft pressure on his left cheek, and it's all making him think, in his dreams:
What a sweet, sweet dream this is.
>>>>> Continue to Chapter 7: tumblr | ao3 >>>>>>>
🧁 old-fashioned YanShen cupcake | Chapter 5/10 | ao3
They go mountain-climbing together. Unfortunately, they run into a monkey. Shen Qiao falls.
(Continue reading here or under the cut!)
It's been one month since Shen Qiao has been taking on extra tasks at work.
And...it's been the strangest job he's ever had in his life. The weekend jobs are the strangest of all, because firstly, he gets free meals—extremely sweet and tasty ones. Secondly, he gets to experience leisurely activities—things like watching movies, visiting pet stores and shopping—things he's never actually gotten around to trying in his younger years.
Thirdly, despite all that, he gets paid for overtime, and when he'd pointed out to his boss that it was absolutely unfair, he'd shrugged and said he didn't mind one bit.
Is his boss…really that rich?
More importantly, Yan Wushi is nothing like what the rumours make him out to be—at the very most, he was domineering and hostile when they'd first met, perhaps cautious about his true intentions about his company. And after Shen Qiao had gained his trust, there was indeed a period of time when he'd been...too close-for-comfort, at least for for someone who's barely met him for more than two days. At that point in time, Shen Qiao had briefly considered that the rumours were true.
But ever since Shen Qiao had openly requested against being 'touched' too intimately, and told him that he'd wanted physical boundaries set between them, he'd actually been acquiescent, never doing anything remotely like that ever since, and Shen Qiao knew it wasn't just because they were in public, because he behaved similarly politely in the office on weekdays as well.
Nonetheless, he has noticed Yan Wushi looking somewhat uneasy sometimes, almost as if he's restraining himself from fluidly carrying out his natural behaviour—stepping back when he thinks he's getting too close, retracting his hand inches away from his skin, stopping his words mid-sentence before he's about to use a pet name such as A Qiao—and he thinks he's certainly been holding back. It's the sort of behaviour that stands in contrast to what the rumours say about him having no regard for every human apart from himself, and having no boundaries.
Shen Qiao wonders exactly what he's been holding back on—what he'd have done had boundaries not been set between them.
He shakes off the thought, willing himself to concentrate on his 'intern tasks' instead. Those have been exceedingly easy for him—after all, he's had quite a bit of experience in the pharmaceutical field, quite a bit being quite a bit of an understatement. Incidentally, he's also recently been crowned the 'Ace Intern of Huanyue', and also been finishing everyone's work for them. Not that he really minds in particular, though.
Just then, Miss Ruru appears around the corner, holding a stack of paper that should probably be everyone's work for the day.
"You're such a lifesaver, Shen Qiao," the young lady coos. "The boss has really hired an angel this time. And you're so beautiful-looking too."
Shen Qiao smiles politely—he's never known what to say whenever people say that to him.
"Thank you. But perception is subjective, and all things subjective are illusory and transient, with physical appearances the most illusory and transient of them all."
Miss Ruru clicks her tongue. "There you go, waxing Taoist lyrical again. One would have thought that you're some thousand years old sage if they hadn't known better. Also…"
She suddenly bends down to whisper something in Shen Qiao's ear. "I've noticed that you've gotten really close with the big boss lately. Has he done anything to you?"
Shen Qiao shakes his head.
"Are you safe? Are you okay?"
Shen Qiao nods his head.
"Are you sure?" Miss Ruru looks around. "They always say that he's a huge pervert, especially for the good-looking ones. They say he always has his hands all around them, and the worst part is that he's super strong and muscular so most people can't fight bac—"
"Thank you for your concern, but rumours are only rumours." Shen Qiao says firmly, voice calm but suddenly louder than usual—loud enough for the entire office to turn their heads towards them.
"As far as my knowledge goes, Mr Yan does not lay a finger on anyone without their permission, be they men or women. Everything he does to anyone is consensual..." Shen Qiao asserts. Suddenly, he pauses, feeling like he forgot about an exception to this fact...hacking. Hacking is not consensual, because it's forced sharing of knowledge.
"...everything, except for hacking. Everything else is consensual except for the hacking." He promptly adds.
Miss Ruru’s mouth is slightly ajar, not having expected the sudden change in demeanour. "O-kay. I'm glad to know that you're okay, Shen Qiao. I think the receptionist ladies will be glad to know that too."
Shen Qiao smiles, relieved to hear that his point has gotten through. "Thank you. Please help me to tell them thank you too, for worrying about me."
---------------------------------------------------------------------
This week, it's Shen Qiao's turn to choose the location for Saturday. He's supposed to let him know on Friday night, but it's already 8 p.m., and there hasn't been any text of any sort yet.
Yan Wushi never lets anyone else plans his days for him—after all, he's always been too much of a control freak for that to happen. He's starting to find this nerve-wrecking...yet also exciting, because it's Shen Qiao planning it.
Beep. It's a text with a Google maps link.
Yan Wushi clicks, and it's…a mountain. He reads the text:
Mr Yan, in order to prevent potential diabetes, I would like to help you realise that 'youth' includes both schoolgirl things and schoolboy things. If you're not opposed, I will not include a dessert cafe this time. Instead, I will make and pack a light breakfast, and we will eat it upon hiking up the hill. Please let me know if you have any oppositions or suggestions to the plan; if not, see you there tomorrow at 7 a.m.
He notices that Shen Qiao has asked to meet three hours earlier than the usual timing. Even though the contract only mandates three hours of weekend overtime.
Regardless of whether he will ask for extra overtime pay (Yan Wushi reckons this possibility highly unlikely, given his character), Yan Wushi finds himself looking forward to the events of the next day—seeing Shen Qiao in hiking clothes; eating Shen Qiao's cooking.
Getting to spend extra time with Shen Qiao.
Maybe he really is starting to become a schoolgirl, because these thoughts start to flutter in Yan Wushi's stomach.
(He barely gets to sleep a wink that night.)
---------------------------------------------------------------------
He's there at 6 o'clock in the morning. Even though they're really only meeting at 7.
Granted, Shen Qiao's usually at least 30 minutes early, so technically, he's just being there to meet him properly. But one hour early is way too early, even for Shen Qiao. Plus, he's the boss and for bosses, one hour early is one hour too early.
A thought suddenly floats into his mind—it's some Taoist thing Shen Qiao had told him one time, something about 'formlessness' and 'lacking fixed identify'; something about changing your perspective.
So, hypothetically speaking, maybe if he'd changed his perspective, the formlessness of these weekend intern tasks can shift their identity into something like…perhaps, a date. And then he wouldn't be the boss anymore, because he'd just be one half of the date. And so, it was okay for him to be one hour early.
Catching his own thoughts, he cringes at them—seems like being sleep-deprived really did a bunch of silly things to his old brain.
(He was right about sleep-deprivation taking a toll on his old brain, because he starts falling asleep on the pavement, nodding off on a little street lamp right beside where he's sitting on the pavement.)
"…Mr Yan. Are you okay?"
Yan Wushi jerks himself awake from the street lamp, and he sees a very concerned Shen Qiao, all decked out in hiking clothes and gear.
So cute I could die, intuitively says some part of his sleep-inebriated, still-asleep schoolgirl brain. The sleep deprivation was worth it after all.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
When they take a break on a rest stop midway through the mountain path, something unexpected happens—it's a monkey.
While monkeys aren't too uncommon in China, the thing about this monkey is that they're currently aiming for Shen Qiao, who is currently attempting to drink water. Luckily, Yan Wushi has quick reflexes, so he lunges forward and pushes Shen Qiao away to the side in a quick forward movement, before using his legs to kick backwards at the monkey.
Said monkey backs off, startled, before absconding back into the forest. Also startled is Shen Qiao, and Yan Wushi realises that his forward push had been somewhat ill-positioned, ending up as something closer to a hug. Suddenly remembering what he'd said about abhorring non-consensual touching, he lets go of Shen Qiao.
"Sorry," he apologises. "I just reacted on instinct."
Shen Qiao looks at him, speechless for a moment, before a gentle smile starts dawning on his mild countenance.
"I really appreciate that you'd listened to my request that day." He smiles. "Thank you. However, please don't worry too much. Normal touching is okay." Shen Qiao then starts patting him on his shoulders, as if to prove his own point. "Please don't feel the need to restrain yourself abnormally."
Yan Wushi pauses to introspect briefly when he hears the words 'restrain yourself abnormally'...restraint has never really been a word in his dictionary. At least not until he'd met Shen Qiao.
Yet, he has been restraining himself. He really did want to respect his wishes. However, the strangest fact was that Yan Wushi hasn't ever tried to respect anyone else's wishes and principles—in fact, he's probably infamous for purposely disrespecting others' wishes and principles.
Funny that he's the one realising this, but Shen Qiao has certainly brought out a very unusual Yan Wushi.
Indeed, he's been absolutely unusual lately, so unusual that even Yu Shengyan had asked if anything's wrong lately; so unusual that even the cleaning lady had caught him humming a jolly tune in the office pantry while making a veggie smoothie instead of a coffee in his pantry one day.
For the umpteenth time, Yan Wushi realises he's way too smitten for his own good, and try as he might, he doesn't think he's going to be able to crawl out of this hole he's fallen in.
Nonetheless, given that even Shen Qiao himself is attempting to get him to act a bit more normally...
He thinks that perhaps everything is okay—so okay that he even could afford to be a little more comfortable with the situation.
(Perhaps everything will turn out okay in the end.)
---------------------------------------------------------------------
When they reach the peak of the mountain, Yan Wushi is panting only very slightly—thank goodness he'd done enough strength training over the years to prevent the Saturday dessert breakfasts from eliminating him and his abs.
Shen Qiao is completely not panting, though, and Yan Wushi marvels at how this is possible for a skinny dude like him. He also starts wondering if Shen Qiao secretly also has abs.
As he tries very hard to shake the thought away, Shen Qiao hands him a sandwich—it's the long-awaited 'A-Qiao's cooking'.
(Either being too smitten or too sleep-deprived has caused him to forget that technically, assembling a sandwich does not qualify as cooking.)
Yan Wushi takes a bite—it's probably super delicious, because he almost wolves down the entire thing.
"You're good at cooking."
"…thank you for the compliment." Shen Qiao is slightly awestruck, mouth gaping a little in shock at how much his poor boss must have been starving. "Even though it's not really cooking at all...really just assembling bread with tomatoes and eggs."
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Beep. Shen Qiao's phone buzzes.
[HilltopWithA-Qiao.jpg] A-Qiao, look at this glorious picture we have together. Time to praise me for my exponential improvement in wefie-taking skills.
As he appraises the photograph he's been sent, Shen Qiao can't help but smile at the silly message, and the silly photograph. It's indeed a good picture, so he presses 'save'.
It's the fifth week since they’ve been having weekly Saturday outings, and the first since Shen Qiao's been the one proposing the locations. And if Shen Qiao were to admit, it's been unexpectedly fun; so much fun that it's hard to believe this really is a job. He even finds himself looking forward to overtime on Friday nights.
He also still can't believe how far Yan Wushi is from how the rumours make him out to be. He'd half-expected him to revert back into his old self over time, but ironically, it'd only gone the other way—it seems that he's been getting the hang of being respectful. Even after lifting the 'ban on physical contact' earlier today, Wushi hadn't done anything untoward to him either. Still acquiescent to what most people would consider normal physical distancing, the most skinship that has occurred was when they'd found rabbits at an unexpected rabbit habitat in the forest, and he was patting some of the cute rabbits there while his boss was patting his head, calling him 'cute A-Qiao' in jest.
In that instant, the first thought to emerge in Shen Qiao's head was that his boss was, in fact, the one who was 'cute'—the older man's face had been brimming with pure joy, and even though he's really almost fifteen years his senior, Shen Qiao could not help but experience a certain sense of endearment towards the childlike way in which he'd seemed to have so much fun there.
He'd also been realising something strange about himself: he'd been strangely unopposed to Wushi calling him 'A-Qiao'.
Only two people have ever used this nickname on him; specifically, the two closest people he'd had in his life: Yu Ai and his mentor.
Both of them weren't around for him anymore.
He'd never expected to experience closeness with another person apart from the two of them—not even his parents, with whom he's always had a mostly respectful and cordial relationship. When his mentor had passed on, he was left with one person.
And now that Yu Ai has betrayed him, he's left with none.
This has indeed taken an emotional toll on him, but at the same time, his Taoist principles—a constant anchor in his life; a constant nagging at the back of his head—has always firmly reminded that he should not mourn too much over them, because all the best he can do is to remember that everything is impermanent, and that he shouldn't have expect to share emotional proximity with anyone in the first place.
Because everything is impermanent, and he'd have been misguided to expect anyone to stay.
Yet, he'd somehow managed to break the ice with his new boss in recent days, and before he'd known it, he's stopped holding back so much on his own emotions. He's stopped reminding himself that it's dangerous to let himself get caught up too much in transient emotions; dangerous to express too much; dangerous to feel, and to feel so happy.
Amidst the unexpectedly joyous times they've been having together, Shen Qiao finds himself looking forward to more. On Mondays, he counts four days till the next meeting. On Tuesdays, he counts three. On Wednesdays, he counts two, and on Thursdays, he counts one. On Fridays, he finds himself spending the whole day looking forward to overtime.
It's a peaceful, pleasant Saturday night. Now that a day has barely made it past Friday, he's already looking forward to overtime—so much so that he decides to jump the gun, sending his boss the next location for the next overtime a whole week early.
https://www.google.qianqiu/maps/dir/nextlocation Mr Yan, I found a good place for next week, if you're not opposed to a slightly further location. Do take a look and consider if you like it. If you do, we could meet for breakfast at the train station on Saturday morning and travel there afterwards.
He hits send. Catches himself looking forward to overtime, even though overtime has only just ended. Closes his eyes as he drifts into peaceful, pleasant dreams—dreams of a kind future he'd never expected to have the privilege to enjoy.
>>>>> Continue to Chapter 6: tumblr | ao3 >>>>>>>
🧁 old-fashioned YanShen cupcake | Chapter 4/10 | ao3
The pancakes arrive. To Yan Wushi’s untrained tastebuds, they taste okay—just very, very sweet.
Also very sweetly, Yan Wushi gets treated to a free veggie smoothie from his subordinate.
(Thanks to the contract, Yan Wushi tries his best again to get the hang of being like a schoolgirl over the next few weeks. He succeeds at almost everything, maybe except the sugary food.
Shen Qiao worries about his boss's impending fate of either diabetes, or a glucose overdose.
In the end, Yan Wushi doesn't develop diabetes, but he does develop...something else.)
(Continue reading here or under the cut!)
The pancakes were okay—not bad, but definitely way too sweet for Yan Wushi's tastebuds. On the other hand, Shen Qiao was eating them so deliciously that Yan Wushi thinks, with some mirth, that he really should have given his own portion to him.
"Seems like you really weren't lying when you said you didn't dislike pancakes." The small lilt in Yan Wushi's voice carries a tinge of mirth at the unexpected fact, but Shen Qiao is unaffected, and instead earnest in response.
"I certainly don't dislike pancakes. I've always preferred food of the sweet variety, compared to savoury," is Shen Qiao's straightforward answer. "How about you, Mr Yan? You seemed to struggle a little. Are you okay?"
"Needed two cups of black coffee to get them down, but I guess I'll be fine with some practice." Yan Wushi chuckles. "Which brings us to our next topic—what fun things should we do next week?"
"I don't know much about having fun, but I can do a bit of research after today to gather what people usually think of as 'having fun'." Shen Qiao is silent in thought for a moment. "Maybe you can also think about what inspired you to have this idea in the first place. What gave you this idea? Sometimes, revisiting the source of the idea may give birth to more ideas."
Wushi resists the urge to poke fun at the overly-serious but sincere Shen Qiao in front of him—this sort of interaction is way too precious; the initially-reticent Shen Qiao seems to finally be cracking open his shell, even initiating conversational topics now. Yan Wushi decides that maybe it'd be wise to continue holding back on the teasing a little.
"What inspired me…" Yan Wushi strokes his chin, thinking seriously for a moment before he remembers the answer—simultaneously simple but cringey.
"Schoolgirls."
"Schoolgirls…?" Shen Qiao's brows furrow in confusion.
"Yes, schoolgirls, and no, not in a horrible indecent way." Yan Wushi rushes to clarify on seeing Shen Qiao's expression—Shen Qiao must have gotten wind of some horrible indecent untrue rumours again. "Don't worry, I was talking about schoolgirls on the morning news."
"Don't worry either, Mr Yan." Shen Qiao laughs a little at Wushi's uncharacteristic frustration. "I wasn't thinking of any horrible indecent things. I just never expected young girls to inspire such a rich and powerful conglomerate like you."
"Haha, good. Anyway, what I mean is I just saw schoolgirls eating pancakes on TV and started thinking how deprived us old uncles are, compared to them." Yan Wushi sighs. "Can't believe a fifty-year-old wise guy like me actually wants to try doing schoolgirl things."
Aptly enough, two young women walk past, giggling as they chat happily and drink their beverages. Behind them is a fruit smoothie stall, and as Shen Qiao's eyes brush past it, a lightbulb lights up in his head.
"Give me five minutes, Mr Yan." Shen Qiao turns and walks towards the smoothie stall, leaving Wushi in some confusion—is he thirsty?
Turns out it wasn't that Shen Qiao was thirsty, because he places the green frothy drink he’d just bought into Yan Wushi's hands instead.
"If you're sincerely wishing to learn from the schoolgirls on what to do to have fun, it is only right that you emulate their actions precisely." Shen Qiao's voice is somewhat sagely as he says this—almost reminiscent of an old Taoist priest, an ironic contrast to his youthful appearance…as well as the slightly disconcerting contents of his sentence. "Also, I have heard from television programmes that vegetable juice is good for anti-aging purposes. In another perspective, your mission to have fun can also be viewed as a type of 'anti-aging therapy'. Mr Yan, please take your medicine."
Yan Wushi doesn't know whether to laugh or cry—on one hand, he's overjoyed that Shen Qiao is not only reciprocating his silly proposal to do 'fun youthful things', but even going the extra mile, thinking of new ideas way beyond his job scope. On the other hand…it's sort of embarrassing, hearing someone articulate all this age-related jazz out loud for you.
He takes a sip of the green thing, bracing himself a bit in case it tastes like alien blood. Unexpectedly, it's absolutely fantastic.
"Whoa, never thought vegetables tasted so good in liquid form," Wushi marvels. "Even fifty-year-olds learn something new every day."
"That's right. Longstanding neuroscientific research has already proven that the human brain is well-equipped with the capacity to learn something adaptive everyday, anatomical age notwithstanding. And consuming vegetables is good—good for the body, and good for the environment." Shen Qiao smiles, and it's all warm and sweet and caring, and despite the weird professor-like stuff he’s saying about human brains and eating vegetables, Yan Wushi is feeling rejuvenated—both by the green drink, and by the man in green.
He also realises that said man in green didn't actually get a green drink for himself, so he pushes the drink into his hands and the straw into his mouth.
Shen Qiao looks at him, confused.
"You don't have a drink. That's unfair, right?"
"I'm not thirsty." He removes his mouth from the straw.
"What, you're saliva-conscious?"
"No, it's not that." Shen Qiao's face starts turning slightly pink, but as if to prove himself, he takes a sip. "You're right, it's good."
"Good, right? Drink half."
Just then, the taxi Yan Wushi has ordered arrives, and he walks off to accost the car, leaving a surprised Shen Qiao in his wake, wondering why his boss seems like a different person from how he'd treated him the first two days when they'd first met, as well as how he's been rumoured to be.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
The next Friday night, Shen Qiao receives a short text message with a Google Maps link.
The location for your next overtime assignment. See you there tomorrow at 10.
He clicks, and it's a shop selling ice cream on crepes. It looks delicious, but he remembers that Mr Yan already could not handle the pancakes previously, and he's wondering if his boss might be forcing himself to ingest things in the name of schoolgirl emulation.
He’s feeling rather impressed at his boss's sense of mission.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Two Friday nights later, Shen Qiao receives the next job location with a Google Maps link.
The crepes last week were very enjoyable; he'd gotten matcha ice cream topped with sweet Japanese red beans, while Mr Yan had gotten the standard Neapolitan chocolate, strawberry and vanilla cream. He'd eaten them very deliciously, but his boss not so much—he was struggling to finish them, looking a little green as he did.
This time, it's a waffle joint famous for chocolate-coated Belgian waffles and homemade whipped cream.
Sense of mission aside, he starts to worry if his boss might be pushing himself too far.
Three Friday nights later, Shen Qiao receives the expected text message. He clicks, and it's a shop selling 'sugoi-kawaii', 'super-Instagrammable', skyscraper-tall chocolate mint parfaits.
The boss hadn't lasted very long into his waffle before he started cringing.
The waffle was a small, short square. In comparison, their next mission is…a mountain that Shen Qiao doesn’t think his boss can scale.
Seems like the boss has really decided to challenge himself this time.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
"…are you really sure you want to go ahead with the parfaits, Mr Yan?" Shen Qiao queries, brows knitted in concern. "I noticed that you’ve been finding only sugary places to visit, even though you did say that you much prefer savoury food."
"I ran out of ideas," is Yan Wushi's slightly sheepish response. "Also, I thought you might appreciate them since you like sweet things."
(Yan Wushi doesn’t tell him, but it’s really more of the second reason.)
Shen Qiao is slightly silent—his facial expression is a mix of shock and worry. He's also looking somewhat apologetic.
"…Mr Yan, I'm sure you're getting something wrong here. We're not here to help me have fun. We're here to help you have fun." He leans slightly forward onto the bistro table, looking extremely serious. "And we're here to help you have fun. Not torture you. I’m sure we can find many ways to 'have fun' that don't involve sugar.”
Hearing this, Yan Wushi feels…somewhat conflicted. Yes, he's weak against things which are too sweet. But the past few Saturdays were actually pleasantly spent despite the potential for diabetes—watching Shen Qiao eat sweets happily; living vicariously via the way his eyes light up when he delicately spoons small mouthfuls of dessert in the neatest yet most delicious manner…
...and perhaps he doesn’t even know it himself yet, but if he’d been any more aware of the feelings brewing in his gut, he'd realise that he’d gladly die of a glucose overdose.
"Aww. A-Qiao is caring for me." Wushi puts his head on his hands, grinning as he tilts his head to the side in an annoying gesture, though he's really just trying to divert the topic, really. Unfortunately, Shen Qiao's unfazed—he’s not buying the topic change.
"This needs to change, Mr Yan. If you're not opposed, I will take charge of the research on places to visit from now onwards, and try to include a varied mix of locations that are safe and healthy," Shen Qiao smiles. "And, good for anti-ageing purposes." The extra emphasis on the word is subtle, but Wushi hears it anyway.
"Ow," Wushi fake-grimaces, but he barely manages to suppress the grin escaping his face. "Never knew this A-Qiao had it in him to make fun of old folks."
Truth be told…Yan Wushi really does feel like he's been getting somewhere lately. For starters, he's managed to let Shen Qiao let his guard down and relax, at least a little. At least enough to make small banter, and to not recoil at being called affectionate nicknames like 'A-Qiao'. He wonders how he'd react if he now moves on to calling him 'my A-Qiao', like that time when he'd accidentally transgressed the boundaries.
Except that thought makes his own heart hurt a little, because any idiot with a brain would know that Shen Qiao isn't his.
These past few weeks have been fun, but he has had a nagging sense of discomfort about their current situation, and whether it was really appropriate. Yes, it's an official work contract that they'd both signed, and he was getting paid overtime plus getting fed, so he didn't have to feel all that bad about siphoning away Shen Qiao's time on Saturdays—but to be certain, was he in fact disrupting any of Shen Qiao's plans?
Specifically, Shen Qiao's date plans?
He'd overheard the office ladies talking about it the other day—about how Shen Qiao was "at the prime age to marry and start a family", and "definitely did not have to worry about getting a pretty and kind wife because he was such a good catch". He'd even overheard some of them making plans to set him up with their friends or children. And in this judgmental collectivistic society that is China, starting a family isn't just a personal issue—it is a concern that even outsiders find normal to pry their noses into, and gossip about endlessly, as if it were their own family they were talking about.
While Yan Wushi may be an asshole who's never thought of starting a family, he wasn't so much of an asshole that he'd literally prevent someone from starting a family—that would be some life-wrecking business. Yan Wushi is one to wreck businesses, but he isn't one to wreck lives.
And the irony is that all the ‘fun stuff’ they've been doing the entire time were exactly the things that couples do on dates. Wouldn't Shen Qiao feel way better to be doing all these cute things with a pretty and kind young lady? Wouldn’t it be better for his future—for the future he might want to build for himself, with a future spouse, and prospective future children?
Yan Wushi has rarely, if ever, been worried for other humans. In fact, he's always been renowned for causing worry for other humans. But now that this kind, pure soul has dropped into his life like a snowflake on a spring day, he gets his very first taste of this emotion. And it hasn't been the sweetest taste to experience.
The parfaits arrive, and he pushes his worries to the side for later—they've got other things to conquer at the moment; specifically, a skyscraper-tall parfait of strawberries and cream.
"You're right—I do need a bit of a sugar detox for the next few weeks." Yan Wushi admits to this, but he wasn't one to back down from a mission he'd decided to take on. "I’ll gladly take you up on that offer to stop with the sweets. But for now, our last sweet mission will be to eat these things, and before that…I think they said we're supposed to do something like take ‘wefies’ and put them on ‘Instagrammable’ or somewhere. The recommendation blog said it’s a waste to buy such expensive parfaits without posing with them…or something."
Shen Qiao laughs softly.
"What, did I say something wrong? Anyway, I think this is the most difficult challenge so far, because I'm so going to become the laughing stock of the century. Imagine me, an old man, taking a picture with a cherry-topped parfait." Yan Wushi facepalms—he hasn’t forgotten that everyone else exists around them.
All of a sudden, Shen Qiao whips out his own phone, turns to face the back, and lifts the phone into the air.
"3, 2, 1," Shen Qiao says, and Yan Wushi is caught like a deer in the headlights.
Before Wushi can process what's going on, Shen Qiao is appraising the wefie he'd just taken, nodding and smiling, visibly satisfied at the end product.
Yan Wushi is stunned—both at the proactive way Shen Qiao has willingly taken the lead to do silly things together with an old guy over the past weeks, and how happy he looks doing this now.
"…I can't believe you're willing to do all these silly kitschy things with me."
Shen Qiao looks at him blankly for a moment, and Yan Wushi starts regretting saying what he'd just said—strange, uncharacteristic things that may well make him retract his willingness. It is then that he sees the gaze in Shen Qiao's eyes—it's conviction, reminiscent of the time weeks ago they'd tried to topple more than five companies together, Yan Wushi for his own selfish interests and Shen Qiao for the good of the people.
But this time, this conviction to be good to people is directed at him, of all people. And Yan Wushi doesn't know what to feel—after all, he’s never been good to people, and naturally, people haven’t been good to him back.
He'd never expected that even at the ripe old age of fifty, meeting just one person could really catalyse a whole storm of new experiences.
"I'll be happy to help you achieve the happinesses you'd missed out on previously," Shen Qiao's voice is soft and firm as he smiles. "I'd meant it when I said that on the first day we signed the extra contract, and I still mean it now."
Yan Wushi wishes he deserved all of this.
All of this, and Shen Qiao.
>>>>> Continue to Chapter 5: tumblr | ao3 >>>>>>>
🧁 old-fashioned YanShen cupcake | Chapter 3/10 | ao3
Huanyue's companies resume normalcy, and things are boring again…at least until Yan Wushi gets fined for unauthorised hacking.
(He still has more than enough money, though, so he asks his intern out for pancakes on the premise of a work meeting.)
(Continue reading here or under the cut!)
It's been three days since the matter has been resolved, with the cooperation of the National Health Control Board spearheaded by Yuwen Yong. All the pharmaceutical companies within the unethical ring led by Tujue—Tiantai, Hehuan, Fajing and the new Xuandu—have been brought to justice, and their CEOs were currently all out on bail, but awaiting trials that probably would not work out in their favour. All companies have been sealed by the authorities, their operations shut down indefinitely.
Shen Qiao has been living in a hotel room for a few days in this new city. He'd considered returning home, but eventually thought the better of it. In fact, it had been Yan Wushi who'd convinced him against leaving for home, reminding him that Yu Ai's men may still be lurking.
“I don’t think I’d go home just yet if I were you, Dr Shen.” Yan Wushi had smiled, shaking his head slightly, arms crossed. “If they'd found out that you had colluded with me to end them, by no means would you be let off the hook, be it by the Tujue bastards, or your ex-home, Xuandu.”
Logically speaking, Yan Wushi was right—it is not implausible that any of the people they’d destroyed the companies of, including his junior, may still be plotting to kill him even while on bail. Yan Wushi was no man to be easily trusted, but this point was more than valid enough to convince Shen Qiao to stay.
The prospect of getting assassinated a second time was unwelcoming, made only worse by the idea of who the mastermind is. Some part of Shen Qiao still yearns to believe that Yu Ai had his reasons. However, joining an unethical ring of companies in order to advance profits…that was not the way Prof Qi had shown them.
It was because Shen Qiao had valued his respect for his mentor more than his old company that he’d sworn to break off all lines of contact with the new Xuandu, or at least, whatever of it is left standing after the current chain of events. It is now up to him to safeguard the legacy of his mentor—an incredibly talented and passionate pharmaceutical researcher, and even more than that, an impeccably principled man.
The fact remains, however, that Shen Qiao has no place to go. Perhaps he should see if any universities are in need of faculty—he could apply to be a lecturer, or perhaps even a professor, seeking to impart not only knowledge but also inculcate the right values into budding medicine-makers. But even if he were to be lucky enough to be accepted for a professorial role, the entire procedure will take a long while. He'd still need a place to stay in the meantime, in terms of both lodging and occupation.
This leaves only one option left for Shen Qiao: stay in Huanyue. Yu Shengyan had also said something about him only being able to rise the ranks after he's completed the internship, emphasis on 'completed'. Perhaps if he'd stayed in this company long enough, he could become a force to be reckoned with inside this company—a reigning force to ensure Yan Wushi isn't up to anything funny. Especially with the recent demise of all other pharmaceutical companies, China will likely be done for, should Huanyue ever turn corrupt.
The scale of his recent decisions hits him; so does the realization that staying in the company of Yan Wushi has suddenly become a compulsory quest to undertake, because Shen Qiao cannot ensure that Yan Wushi's tricks will stay only within hacking…not unless he stays here personally.
Truth be told, though, Shen Qiao does acknowledge that his time here has been less difficult than expected so far. Indeed, Yan Wushi is difficult in certain ways, but something in the deep of Shen Qiao's gut is telling him he isn't the inherently evil person some rumours make him to be.
Shen Qiao's phone beeps—it's a text message from Miss Ruru. Reading the contents, his jaw almost drops—
…he certainly was not expecting this to happen to Yan Wushi.
_________________________________________________________
Panting from having rushed to the third floor, Shen Qiao realises that Yu Shengyan is not there to grant him access to the boss's office, so he has no choice but to attempt to dial the intercom at the side of the glass door. Frazzled as he struggles to do so, he doesn't notice someone accosting him.
"What brings our Shen Qiao here today?" Yan Wushi is suddenly behind him at the door. "Here to visit me specially?"
Shen Qiao jumps at the company he’s suddenly realised he’s having, before a sense of relief washes over him as he realises who it is.
"I heard from Miss Ruru that you've been arrested for your unauthorized use of hacking procedures during our operation five days ago. I thought you might have been jailed."
Yan Wushi frowns—it's a smile hidden behind a frown, dripping with feigned sadness. "Come on, my dear Shen Qiao. We've already been working together for five days, and we’ve even already cleared a big mission together. But you want me to be in jail?" He puts a hand to his chest in mock hurt.
"That's not it. I was worried that you may have gotten into serious trouble for the things you did, which were at least partially thanks to my sudden request for help."
Yan Wushi's fake frown morphs into a smile as he realises there's nothing but genuine worry in Shen Qiao's voice and expression.
What a kind person.
"…well, don't you worry about it. I was bailed, and then eventually they reduced it to a fine. Don't forget that your big boss has interpersonal connections," The big boss slings his arms around Shen Qiao's shoulders, as if to prove his point about interpersonal connections. "I'd helped Yuwen Yong a few times, too, so he probably put in a good word for me to the authorities. That’s probably why I only got fined. And even after this, I'm still far from bankrupt."
Shen Qiao's still looking extremely uncomfortable, but Yan Wushi can feel his shoulder relax a bit as he tells him this.
"Besides, it's unlikely that I would have been charged anything more than a fine. Our actions resulted in the fall of unethical companies producing unhealthy medicine, remember? Essentially, we just saved many lives. Never thought I’d see the day I become such a hero, honestly.” Wushi smirks.
Shen Qiao slowly nods in agreement. "That's true. I'm glad the government does take into account the big picture for the masses."
Yan Wushi smiles—what a good person.
"Anyway, A-Qiao, don't forget that you still owe me an extra favour." Yan Wushi's shoulder sling tightens around both of Shen Qiao's shoulders, which stiffen up again. He's silent for a good moment before he removes himself from the taller man.
"Sorry, Mr Yan. I have a request to make of you." Shen Qiao's tone is polite but firm.
"I would like to request that physical boundaries be put in place between us. Please stop engaging in overly-close physical contact with me without my permission."
Yan Wushi is silenced by the soft-spoken but terse and powerful way in which he'd just spoken. He rarely meets people like these—gentle, yet unyielding.
"Okay. Fine."
Wushi isn't used to agreeing with those who disagree with him, but even he knew that personal proxemics really is a thing. While he personally is used to being pretty 'touchy', for others who aren’t, getting too ‘touchy’ could, indeed, be a pretty touchy issue.
(And maybe he should have seen this coming, too—after all, the ways Shen Qiao had conducted himself in the past few days had indeed been enough for Wushi to already expect him to be assertive when he knows exactly what he wants, and what he doesn't.)
Wushi backs off, now standing a metre away.
"Anyway, let's get back to what we were talking about—you owe me an extra favour."
Shen Qiao's brows furrow. "I believe I no longer owe you anything, as I've also helped you achieve your own objective."
"Yeah, you did return my first favour. But I also found those who tried to assassinate you, remember? They're now in jail. So you owe me another.”
Shen Qiao frowns. He'd never actually asked for him to do that, mostly because he didn't even feel the need to jail them for the assault. Jailing them wouldn't change the past, and what matters most is that he’s now unharmed.
Nonetheless…it is true that Yan Wushi did make some effort to find out the truth behind his assault, after all. Shen Qiao isn't one to not repay favours, even those he didn’t ask for, so he agrees anyway.
"I understand. What would you like me to do?" "You will be given an extra intern task soon. I haven’t decided on exactly what I want you to do, but this means you can’t leave the company yet—for now, just focus on being a good intern.”
Just then, the lift at the lobby dings to announce its presence, and a slightly hurried Yu Shengyan rushes towards them.
"Boss, I've heard some things from the ground floor."
"What, are the policemen here again? Strange, I thought I already paid the fine."
"No, not from outsiders. From our own workers. There's gossip going around." He glances at Shen Qiao briefly before continuing. "Specifically, they are wondering who Shen Qiao really is.” Shengyan looks at Shen Qiao warily, before switching to a hushed stage whisper.
“They have two main concerns—the first is that he's jawdroppingly beautiful, like some statue or painting in an art museum. As a result, people have been wondering if he's actually some model or actor who's supposed to be our new spokesperson, or something. Someone's daughter even asked me if he was a prince from some exotic foreign land."
Shen Qiao blinks in genuine confusion. Yan Wushi starts laughing.
"And what's the second?"
"The second is that he keeps getting summoned to your office. They're wondering why the heck you need to see an intern in your office so often. After all, you barely even let anyone into the third floor."
Yan Wushi stops laughing all of a sudden. Shen Qiao is looking even more confused.
"Okay, I see why this might actually be a problem." He remembers what people, his workers and nosy outsiders alike, always been saying about him—rumours that aren't completely false, but probably not completely true. He sighs.
"Don't explain anything, because it may make things worse. Just ignore them for now. I'll just hold our meetings outside from the office instead if it gets very bad."
_________________________________________________________
It's been two weeks since the matter's been resolved. It's also a Saturday, which means Yan Wushi has some free time on his hands. An apposite parallel to the regular rhythm in the weekdays—sleeping, waking, working—his weekend rhythm involves sleeping in, waking late, and working out. As well as the occasional trip to the bars when night falls, because successful CEOs need to destress, too.
Seems like the sleeping-in step has failed, though, because he’s wide awake at 6 a.m. on this beautiful Saturday—looks like his body clock's still in weekday mode. He tries getting back to bed, but after one hour lapses he's still wide awake, so he abandons the futile attempt. Switching the television on, it's the news, and something looks vaguely familiar—it's a bunch of schoolgirls and a middle-aged female news presenter doing a special on the third branch of the same pancake café that has been taking over the town. The one he'd seen the other day also on the news, which he'd thought looked delicious.
He'd almost forgotten about this café ever since the random torrent of events that started two weeks ago—ever since Shen Qiao had joined their company all of a sudden, throwing the strangest but most profitable request at him. As if to remind him that he now remembers about the café's existence, his stomach growls. He glances at the kitchen counter and there are, as usual, nothing but eggs—
No, no eggs today please.
It is indeed a weekend, though. Guess he does have time for a little morning jog, followed by a Saturday brunch outing. Pancakes sound good.
As he continues watching, he realises that this third pancake shop is, in fact, two neighbourhoods away. Again, he also realises that all the customers there—none of them eating alone—are chatting joyfully with their table partner, looking extremely silly, happy and well-fed, and evidently having a lot of fun. The entire scene is making Yan Wushi feel almost jealous—it feels almost like this super-rich CEO has in fact been losing out on these past fifteen years.
He decides that he needs to get some pancakes. Pancakes sound good, and look fun. But…
…how will he, a middle-aged wise guy, step in alone to such a downright fluffy establishment, without becoming the laughing stock of the century?
All of a sudden, he remembers something—something so important that he'd put off thinking about it for a while:
Shen Qiao owes him a favour.
An idea brews in his head. It was a little bit of a strange idea, but he'd been bored lately, and looking around for something fun to do. Plus, he'd also been wanting to keep Shen Qiao around—he’d been thinking hard about exactly what ‘extra intern task’ Shen Qiao could do, too.
Maybe this could work. He whips out his cell phone. Types his intern a message, and clicks send; grins, and puts on his jogging shoes before heading out.
_________________________________________________________
When Yan Wushi steps out of his mansion, it is still dark—only the first brushstrokes of light have graced the dark blue morning sky. An hour into his jog around his neighbourhood, the symphony of urban sounds begins as the streets fill with early risers like himself. His jog goes smoothly thanks to frequent resistance training, and before he knows it, it's already nine-thirty, half an hour before the meeting. He takes the remainder of the time jogging to the pancake café, and when he reaches, he's already there.
On seeing his boss, Shen Qiao bows deeply, dressed like his usual intern self, light green button-up dress shirt, black pants and shoes. On the other hand, Yan Wushi is in exercise clothes.
…The contrast is striking.
(He called him here so he wouldn’t be alone eating pancakes and becoming the laughing stock of the century, but at this rate, they're just going to be the laughing stock of the century together.)
_________________________________________________________
"Mr Yan, I never expected our company meeting location to be a pancake café."
Yan Wushi lets out an uncharacteristically awkward laugh—yes, maybe they could have walked away to somewhere else, or maybe even back to his home, but since they were here and he was hungry and has been craving pancakes, he'd figured that a little awkwardness won't kill him, right? (Not like fifteen years of being a well-hated corporate savage did.)
"Why not? Anyway, might as well enjoy some sweets since we're here. Why, you don't like pancakes?"
"No, that's not it. I just…didn't expect it. After all, maybe we'd be too focused on the pancake-eating to efficiently carry out the meeting."
"Nah, don't worry about it. The meeting will be over even before the pancakes arrive." Wushi smirks. Shen Qiao stares at him with a look of surprise and confusion. "I've decided on the favour I'd like from you. It's also very simple—just adding a simple clause to your internship job scope contract. You even get a pay rise. A bit like getting promoted, except not officially."
"What is it?" Shen Qiao asks warily.
"You will be assigned an extra intern task that will count as a type of special overtime."
"Special overtime? What is the task?" Shen Qiao asks, even more warily.
"Spend three extra hours doing fun things with me on the weekends."
Shen Qiao is dumbstruck for a moment. A while later, he takes a breath before saying something in a tone so tentative that Wushi knows that this negotiation definitely is not remotely going as smoothly as the first ones they've had.
"…I'm afraid I can't sign this additional clause on my internship contract without confirming the details. The vague phrasing may result in me having to fulfil a large range of difficult tasks that you might claim to be classified as "fun". Hence…may I ask what activities constitute as fun for you, exactly?"
Yan Wushi tsks—how impeccably lawful this guy is. And to be honest, his question has caught him off guard, because he's been so out of it these past years that he doesn't really know what fun is anymore, maybe besides maybe chopping the heads off business competitors.
"Unfortunately, I don't know the answer to your question." Yan Wushi answers. "I don't think I've actually had any fun in the past fifteen years. Maybe except for that night when we pulled an all-nighter to topple all those companies together." Wushi smiles, his own earnestness surprising him a little as he cringes at how wistful that sounded from his own mouth. "I don't know how to have fun, so I can only think of ways to try and have fun. Such as eating pancakes in a cute café, which seemed potentially awkward to accomplish alone."
But Shen Qiao's expression is equal parts shock and confusion, almost as if wondering aloud why anyone on earth would want to try to have fun, and Yan Wushi suddenly realises that this super-serious super-austere lad has probably had even less fun than he has, and not just because he's lived fifteen less years than him so far.
Wushi clicks his tongue for the second time that morning—maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. "I guess it's no use telling you about these things, huh. Anyway, forget it. Just pretend I didn't say anything. I just came up with this idea mainly because I keep seeing these youngsters around me have fun, and I'm reminded that I'm getting sort of…old. And when you're old, you sort of start to want to make a bucket list and do things you think you might regret not doing when you die." Wushi mentally facepalms—this was even more embarrassing to articulate than expected.
But unexpectedly, Shen Qiao is nodding…and smiling.
"…that's nice. You're right—it's important to make the most of the present moment. I'll be happy to help you have fun." His voice is warm and sweet, and Yan Wushi realises it's the first time he's heard this tone of voice coming from him. He also realises that it does funny things to a certain vital organ in his chest.
"I will sign the contract for spending the weekends helping you have fun. As long as…" Shen Qiao looks somewhat uncomfortable.
"…what, you want overtime pay? Consider that done. In fact, you will also get free breakfast, lunch, and dinner if you want. Anything else?"
"No, it's not the money. I just think it'd be fair if we could mutually agree on the things to do. I hope to prevent a situation where I'm being coerced to doing things against my will."
Ah. Yes. Always leave it to Shen Qiao to be extra cautious. Plus, he's probably heard many funny things about him from his colleagues from now, and for a moment Yan Wushi feels anger at the fact that this time, the rumours probably weren't the ones that are real.
Because he never forces anyone to do things against their will. Especially not in those ways. Ironically, it's not even a secret that a good number of female workers have tried their darndest to hit on him, with some of their advances even having gotten to a fairly inappropriate level of skinship. Thing is, their attempts have always been futile, because Yan Wushi never lays a finger on women in the office. (Nor anywhere else, for that matter, but not everyone gets to know about this particular detail.)
And he never lays a finger on anyone without their permission. The point is, hacking aside, everything he does to anyone is always consensual.
"Don't worry," Wushi smiles, uncharacteristically stiff. "Everything we'll be doing will always be consensual. We'll discuss everything before carrying them out. Also, I can promise you that this contract only includes…decent activities. Is that okay?"
Shen Qiao nods. "Thank you very much." He then smiles a more cheerful version of that same gentle and warm smile of his, and Yan Wushi feels whatever tension and anger he's just had fade away, replaced with a funny feeling in the organ in the middle of the space between his lungs.
Something in his gut is telling him that this contract might be leading him down a wrong road, and that he might in fact already be more far gone than expected.
_________________________________________________________
It's been thirty minutes since they've entered. The pancakes are taking forever to arrive; what arrives instead are the chatter, laughter and gaze of the people around them—most of them teenage girls. Yan Wushi looks down self-consciously at his exercise bermudas—are they really that funny-looking?
Just then, his ears catch wind of a few phrases uttered by these onlookers, though, and he realizes that the bermudas aren't at all the subject of attention here. He starts smirking at the still-oblivious, extremely beautiful and now extremely popular man sitting opposite him.
"Dearest Shen Qiao," Wushi jests, smirking. "You're becoming the talk of the town. Sounds like all the women here are completely smitten with your charms. All of them are totally interested in you."
"My charms? Interested in me?" is Shen Qiao's confused reply. “I don’t think so.”
"You're really hopeless, aren't you. Listen to what they're whispering."
Shen Qiao blinks twice, completely innocent. "I am listening. All I'm hearing are phrases such as, they're so cute, that's so sweet, and they go so well together."
Yan Wushi's jaw almost drops. (He didn’t hear those things, but seems like some of these women had other interests.)
"Aren't they talking about pancakes and ice cream?" Shen Qiao blinks again.
Yan Wushi facepalms, and beneath the palm he can feel his face slightly warming up because unlike Shen Qiao, he knew exactly what the girls meant.
And for some reason, he actually finds it kind of pleasant to hear that "they go so well together".
This guy really is hopeless…
…but so is he.
>>>>> Continue to Chapter 4: tumblr | ao3 >>>>>>>
🧁 old-fashioned YanShen cupcake | Chapter 2/10 | ao3
Shen Qiao, Yan Wushi and Yu Shengyan pull an all-nighter to get things done.
Yan Wushi pulls more rabbits out of the hat than expected—not only about the criminal activities of his new employee's junior, but also about his own beating heart.
(Continue reading here or under the cut!)
"Here is your staff pass," Yu Shengyan hands Shen Qiao a lanyard with an ID card. "You may use this to enter, but your entry is restricted only to public areas and the intern office, because you're still on probation. For now, your status in this company is that of an intern, but I don't suppose you'll be staying longer to get anywhere above that, because Mr Yan will most definitely finish whatever you need help with soon, probably faster than you'd expect."
Shengyan is still wary of this 'Shen Qiao' person—yes, he's heard of him and his accolades somewhere, probably from the news or during some meeting, but the CEO of what used to be Xuandu Pharmaceuticals has always kept a low profile, and he can’t tell if all that talk about ‘doing good for the nation’ was merely waxing lyrical.
"We'll be heading to Mr Yan's office now to discuss the details of the help you'll receive."
"Okay."
They head into the protected area of the office building, tapping their cards to get past the first floor lobby's gantry. After taking the lift to the third floor, Shengyan taps his card and the gate opens for them to enter.
Three raps on the wooden door labelled 'Yan Wushi'. "Boss, I've brought him here."
"Come in," is Yan Wushi's muffled voice from inside.
As they enter the CEO's office, Yan Wushi isn't sitting on his comfy office chair—he's leaning on his table, assuming a posture of having waited awhile in that position. On seeing Shen Qiao, he props himself upright, beckoning Shen Qiao over to the chair in front of the table before he takes his own seat, but something in his demeanour is suggesting to Shen Qiao that all this is merely mock politeness.
"Good to see you today, Mr Shen. Though I should probably casually call you Shen Qiao, since you're now technically my intern after yesterday’s interview." Yan Wushi smirks. "Maybe even just A-Qiao. For added affection.”
The corners of Shen Qiao's mouth turn downwards very slightly. "Good morning, Mr Yan." He bows deeply, but his voice is reticent.
"No need to be too formal now. We'll waste no time and discuss what we need to." Yan Wushi places his hands together on the desk, leaning forward slightly to assume a posture of negotiation. "Firstly, are you sure you wish to leave it to me to bring your ex-company down?"
"Yes."
"By any means? Even if I resort to what you may not be used to?"
"…Yes."
Shen Qiao's voice is soft but firm. Yan Wushi did not expect the negotiation to progress this quickly. He smiles.
"Okay. I'll help you destroy your old company, but in return, you will have to do something for me."
"What is it?"
"Help Huanyue dominate the entire pharmaceutical industry. In other words, destroy all of my competitors."
Shen Qiao takes an almost imperceptible pause to take in the information, before providing his response, crisp and clear, in a matter of seconds.
"No problem, Mr Yan. The road to achieving your objective includes destroying Xuandu, and all the other companies who've similarly stooped to unscrupulous means. I believe our goals are aligned. However, I do have one condition."
"Please, do speak your mind.”
"Do not ever resort to unethical means in what you do for the health for the populace." Shen Qiao's voice is soft, but strong and cold; steelier than it has ever been in the entire conversation. "In other words, do not become a more powerful version of the ones you destroy."
Yan Wushi chuckles. His smirk deepens, his face leaning so far forward that it is suddenly barely a fist's length away from Shen Qiao's, and the latter falters slightly backward at the sudden proximity, ears turning very slightly pink.
"I'm a little hurt by that." Yan Wushi places a hand to his chest in mock offense, still smiling as he does. "Since when have you ever seen me resort to unethical means?"
"…Just in case." His eyelids quiver slightly as he regains his composure. "I don't want my decision here to become one that might very well wipe out the entire population."
Yan Wushi lets out a small but derisive laugh as lifts himself off his chair, assuming a polite standing position before he extends a hand.
"That sure is an exaggeration, Mr Shen." Wushi's mocking tone is palpable in his voice, but Shen Qiao is unfazed.
"It better be." Shen Qiao returns the handshake, gripping them in a way reminiscent of the Tao—firm, but not forceful.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
After their brief but decisive meeting, Shen Qiao is brought by Yu Shengyan to the intern's office located on the second storey.
"Your internship reporting officer will take over now. She's the first receptionist on the right once you walk in the glass door. She will tell you what to do. Don't forget that while you're here, you do have to satisfy basic intern duties." Shengyan lowers his voice slightly. "At the very least, do not ever let anyone know of your true relationship with the boss, or the contract breaks instantaneously."
"Yes, Mr Yu." Shen Qiao bows deeply as Shengyan takes his leave towards the lobby.
When he enters the intern office, he sees almost no one inside—seems like the majority of Huanyue's workers are full-fledged employees, leaving only a few interns around. Taking a few steps, he searches for his reporting officer, only to find a young lady snoring at a receptionist's desk. He taps her on the shoulder and she jolts awake, standing up immediately.
"Boss! I'm awake, I'm awake-" She realises she isn't talking to 'Boss', and her tone switches to one of confusion before she starts squinting at whoever's in front of her, hands searching frantically on her desk for her glasses.
When she wears them, she takes one glance at Shen Qiao and her jaw drops slightly. Shen Qiao stares back, confused.
Ruru, the bespectacled girl’s nametag reads. She doesn't say anything for a few moments, deer-in-the-headlights.
"You must be the new intern coming in today…Shen Qiao?" She stares at the nametag on his white office shirt; a brief thought flashes past her mind that the name sounds a little familiar, but she hasn't caught up with the events enough to groom the thought further.
"Yes, my name is Shen Qiao. It’s good to meet you." Shen Qiao extends a hand politely. "You must be the reporting officer for my internship here."
"Yes, you may call me Ruru," the young lady responds as she grabs his hand. Perhaps it’s because his demeanour (composed but polite) isn't that of a mere intern, together with the fact that he's clearly older than her—she’s completely forgetten that most interns call her ‘Miss’ Ruru.
In either case, some feeling in her gut tells her this guy is not some ordinary intern.
"I will be in your care." Shen Qiao bows politely before making his leave for his cubicle.
Staring at him as he leaves, Ruru finds that her mind just cannot wrap itself around the new encounter—where has she seen him before?
Was he in the news…? Or perhaps…
…in some ancient Chinese painting?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
As the day ends, the employees shuttle one by one out of the office for home. Intern Shen Qiao, however, is called into Yan Wushi's office. When he enters, they waste no time, beckoning him into his seat opposite the boss.
"Mr Yan has decided not to delay our plans any further. We start our operation tonight."
"That's right. Excited to work overtime with you, Shen Qiao." Yan Wushi pulls a chair for Shen Qiao before taking his own seat. "Shengyan, check this room for listening devices, as well as the area near the door."
As the second-in-command inspects the area for bugging devices, Yan Wushi hands Shen Qiao a laptop.
"Most of what you need is already in there. Got it settled just this afternoon."
"What I need…?" Shen Qiao is stunned for a few moments. "I don't remember specifying anything I need."
"Trust me, you’ll need it for our operation. We need it. Open it and you'll know."
Shen Qiao opens the laptop, and the screen lights up immediately as it switches on. He takes a brief glance, mouth widening slightly in surprise before he turns to look at Wushi.
"How did you even get your hands on those companies’ information, and of such a…highly classified level?"
Yan Wushi smirks—he's always loved giving others a good surprise. Just then, Shengyan comes back into the room and locks the door. It doesn’t seem like they are bugged, so Wushi's allowed to speak his mind.
"How, you ask?” His smirk deepens. “How else? Of course I hacked their information systems."
Shen Qiao is silent for a few moments. Unexpectedly, a little smile emerges on his graceful countenance.
"So that's what they meant when they said you perform not dirty tricks, but clean ones. I never did expect you to be quite the hacker."
Wushi smiles. Stands up and makes his way towards Shen Qiao. Stops just a few millimetres from him, and leans towards his right ear.
"Everyone has their own secrets," Yan Wushi smiles as the ear reddens instantaneously. "Right, Dr Shen?"
Apart from the reddened ear, Shen Qiao is unfazed even as his secret is exposed in front of his ears. "My doctoral degree is not exactly a secret. Especially not with my unofficial research role at the university back in my city."
"I guess it's also not unexpected, given that your mentor is the renowned Professor Qi Fengge, after all." Yu Shengyan pipes up, reminding the two of them that he's still there. Yan Wushi throws him a look suggesting that he has just interrupted something.
"Anyway, Dr Shen, your pharmaceutical knowledge will be a great asset to my company in due course. For now, it will also be a great asset to our super-secret plan."
Shen Qiao pauses as he catches the words "in due course". Didn't they agree on ending the contract after this mission ends? He casts the thought away for now, choosing to focus on the task at hand.
"What would you like me to do with this information, specifically?"
"Check it for inconsistencies between the ingredient procurement records of each company and their product nutrition labels. In other words, cross-check the ingredients they bought with the ingredients they wrote on the labels. I'm no scientist so I won't be very efficient at telling apart which ingredients correspond to their chemical names, but I'm sure our Dr Shen can easily perform such a task in no time at all." Wushi winks at 'our Dr Shen', whose entire face goes slightly pink.
"How about me?" Yu Shengyan asks. "What would you like me to do, boss?"
"After he cross-checks the ingredient records, we will be left with two groups of information. The first group is the inacurate ingredient reports, and the second is of course, the accurate ones. The inaccurate ones already provide enough evidence for their perpetrators to be convicted. As for the accurate ingredients, more work has to be done, because even if they really told the truth about what ingredients they used, they may be lying about the dosages."
"Can you get your hands on that information?" Shen Qiao asks.
"Already did." Yan Wushi smiles. "Mostly. Lucky us, because most companies' laboratory computers didn't have the best firewalls. Hence, I was able to steal their actual dosage records.”
He hands Shengyan a stack of papers. “As for you, your task is to extract the numbers, then perform the stats to see if they add up. If they don't, it represents clear discrepancy between reported and actual dosages, which we can present as evidence."
"Got it. Leave it to me, boss."
"Mr Yan, near the start of this conversation, you mentioned that you have obtained most of what I need in this laptop. You’ve also been saying that only most things have been obtained. What else is there that you haven't gotten your hands on?"
"Two things. The first is your Xuandu's actual dosage records." Yan Wushi smiles at Shen Qiao as he anticipates his response—this may be a decisive moment to see if the younger man has been attempting to fool him the entire time.
“You see, Dr Shen, Xuandu's pretty well-protected, as you might know. For one, the firewalls are good; for another, they've got enough brains to store the info only in admin computers, and then make watertight passwords for the admin computers. As you probably already know.”
Shen Qiao nods.
“That’s why I can't obtain Xuandu's info without administrative access. We'll need you to provide that…” He trails off as he tries to read Shen Qiao's face for cues. “…unless you no longer have administrative access.”
Shen Qiao’ face is expressionless and calm; in his voice there has been no hesitation in answering. "I will try once with my own ID and password. If it fails…" Shen Qiao trails off and takes a breath.
"If it fails, I will take a shot at guessing Yu Ai's ID and password. I think I might know. We've spent quite a bit of time together as kids, so I'm aware of some of his little habits. Though, maybe he's already changed too much for me to keep up.” Shen Qiao briefly looks downwards at his hands, and because Wushi has been watching him like a hawk for signs of betrayal throughout the conversation, he knows that it’s the first time he’s faltered in this conversation.
It’s the first time he’s faltered in this conversation, and there sure has been a sign of betrayal—to Yu Ai, that is.
He’s impressed, to say the least.
"I'll hold you to that then." Yan Wushi grins.
Turns out Shen Qiao's password was still usable, so no guesswork was needed. He hands the laptop back to Wushi, who proceeds to quickly obtain the information needed. When that's done, Shen Qiao doesn't forget to seek the second half of Yan Wushi's answer.
"Mr Yan, you said you were missing two things. Now that we’ve gotten one of that sorted, what’s the second?"
Yan Wushi grimaces lightly—this one's the toughest nut.
"Tujue Pharmaceuticals' lab dosage records."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
It turns out that the good challenge is in fact an even greater challenge than Yan Wushi expected, because Tujue appears to have hired a few pretty good hackers themselves, and the thing is that good hackers usually make good anti-hackers. Luckily, even at his age, Wushi does enjoy a good challenge.
All of a sudden, he starts chuckling.
"What is it, boss? Did you find Tujue's records?" Shengyan asks.
"Not yet," Wushi starts spinning his pen—an old habit he's had whenever he senses himself getting close to conquering a task. "I managed to get into their system, and these guys really were smart enough to not store anything about dosages there. But what I just found is even more sensational."
He walks over to Shen Qiao's office chair, and much to poor Shen Qiao’s shock, suddenly starts rolling him across the room towards his own computer.
"I found a memo with some classified info. Seems like we've found the mastermind behind your assault."
Hearing this, Shen Qiao quickly recovers from suddenly being pushed around in an office roller chair. He glances at the screen, and it's a message sent by the Tujue system, sent to an assassin, complete with time and place details of Shen Qiao's whereabouts on the day of the assault.
The most unexpected part of the memo was the name signed off at the bottom of the note.
~ Yu Ai.
Seems like Tujue and Xuandu had been in cahoots the whole time.
"Seems like your beloved junior was the one who'd plotted to assassinate you."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
The time is 6 a.m.—the orange of the sun peeking shyly through the blinds, casting a strangely warm lighting across Wushi's office. Shengyan is sprawled out on his boss' sofa, snoring.
The other two, however, are still wide awake—it took a while to settle things, thanks to Tujue's iron-clad anti-hacker system. Still, they've managed to find what they need within the night, and are now within a hair's length from the finish line.
Yan Wushi smiles. "Once I click the submit button, it means we've accomplished our missions. Aren't you happy, Shen Qiao?"
"…Perhaps we shouldn't be so confident just yet. There's a chance the authorities will reject your report. Who knows if they might be collaborating?"
"Nah," Yan Wushi's smile grows into a grin. "I know the big boss personally. He won't do such a thing, at least not with those dirty scumbag folks."
"You know Yuwen Yong personally?"
"Of course. Don't underestimate the interpersonal connections of Big Boss Yan Wushi."
Yan Wushi clicks, and the page is completely blank save a single line of text:
REPORT SUCCESSFULLY SUBMITTED. AWAITING MODERATION.
"There. Mission accomplished." Yan Wushi chuckles.
Shen Qiao's sigh of relief is almost imperceptible, but Yan Wushi can tell he's relieved.
"I will now take my leave. Thank you for your work, Mr Yan."
As Shen Qiao heads towards the exit, Yan Wushi steps forward to take the place of the space in between Shen Qiao and the door.
"You're not going anywhere." Wushi smirks, inching his face towards Shen Qiao's.
"…Why?"
"Because you're tired." Wushi starts pushing him towards the other sofa in the room. "Sit down and rest. After all, it doesn't make sense for you to leave the office, since your next day of work starts in 2 hours. I believe my comfy sofa beats your cramped little intern office cubicle downstairs. Enjoy a little rest time here while we wait for the authorities' final verdict." Shen Qiao says nothing as Wushi sits him down. "Let's wait together to watch the fireworks unfold."
Wushi props himself right beside him, perhaps a little too close for Shen Qiao's comfort, but not close enough to be considered harassment per se. Nonetheless, Shen Qiao's shoulder is in full contact with Wushi's shoulder, and the former stiffens, staying in the same position for a few minutes.
Nonetheless, sleep deprivation eventually takes its hold on Shen Qiao as he falls asleep, head falling exactly onto Yan Wushi's shoulder. At this distance, Yan Wushi is bestowed the full view of Shen Qiao's eyelashes, as well as the ebb and flow of the soft breaths breaking from his chest.
He's feeling unexpectedly conflicted. Firstly, he'd been completely wrong about this person—it was difficult enough to believe that someone would come up to him with a proposal to destroy their own company. It was even more difficult to believe that this intention was loaded with nothing but goodwill—even at the end, he’d shown no signs of wishing revenge against someone who'd even gone to the extent to try and kill him.
Secondly, this person would go all out to help his competitor with absolutely no desire to usurp him—if it had been Yan Wushi in Shen Qiao's shoes, he'd already have long threatened to take over Huanyue the very moment all their competitors were destroyed. But this Shen Qiao is definitely not threatening anything—all he's doing is just…sleeping on his shoulder.
Completely unguarded.
At nearly age fifty, going without sleep for a whole day has been pretty difficult, even for someone like Yan Wushi. All night, the fatigue has been clawing at his eyelids, colluding with the radiant soreness of his shoulders to draw him into an uncomfortable weary state. Yet, his eyes are fixated on Shen Qiao despite the weird angle it coerces his neck to take.
He finds himself not wanting to waste a single moment on sleep, and for the first time in what must have been fifteen years, Yan Wushi is unable to figure this guy out.
Neither is he able to figure himself out. What exactly is making him so drawn to this man?
Is it the relief of not having been betrayed? Probably not—he'd never been anxious about it in the first place, because of all the backup plans he put in place.
Is he simply lusting after his beauty? Probably not—for one, his prettiness isn’t at all the ‘sexy’ type, but rather, the clean and ethereal type. For another, Yan Wushi has already had his fair share of men—so many that he's become pretty saturated in recent years. He no longer feels lust towards physical prettiness.
Perhaps he's just sick of the bad boys, and just wants to try out a good one. Or perhaps he's looking for the excitement he could get from trying to conquer someone who'd spurn him—someone who'd disagree with him, and stand firm on his own grounds. Come to think about it, Shen Qiao does tick both of these boxes.
Yan Wushi is left sitting there for the night, wondering if that's really all it took for this young, otherworldly man with a ruler-straight sense of justice and humanity to have taken over his thoughts and feelings in such an introspective way, such that it almost feels foreign. After all, he's never really had things like feelings.
All he's ever had were one-night stands with random men he’d met at gay bars.
There are things he doesn't recognise, and they're giving him a sense that something strange and wonderful is brewing within.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Within a night, more than three-quarters of China's pharmaceutical industry has fallen, including Xuandu Pharmaceuticals.
Both men have achieved their goals, which happened to be in perfect alignment this time round.
Neither of them have betrayed each other, and both of them are pleasantly surprised.
>>>>> Continue to Chapter 3: tumblr | ao3 >>>>>>>
🧁 old-fashioned YanShen cupcake | Chapter 1/10 | ao3
Yan Wushi is having a bad hair day. Three reasons:
1. He's cranky.
2. He's hungry.
3. He's out of hairgel.
(Continue reading here or under the cut!)
It isn't the first time Yan Wushi has been feeling a little blue lately. He's been feeling a little blue a little too often lately, to the extent that a few days back Yu Shengyan had even suggested (in genuine good intention) to Google if ‘menopause was a thing for middle-aged men, too’, before suffering a kick to his derriere (the poor boy, he'd really only meant to help).
It isn't like anything in his life has changed—not that it has for the past fifteen years of his fifty years. One would rarely be able to tell from his devilish demeanour that he's used to living life in this sort of circadian rhythm—a predictable, humdrum routine. He's always been quite the wild child, after all, with quite the appearance to match it: passers-by have wondered if he may in fact be a veteran actor from the action-movie industry. Tall. Muscular and sculpted. Dashingly chaotic countenance. Always dressed in some upscale and well-fitted bespoke suit. Medium-length hair tied into a ponytail at the back and swept into a stylish fringe at the front, set in place with cedarwood-scented hairgel. Suave.
Speaking of the suave, cedarwood-scented hair…it may in fact be the MVP for most annoying thing of the day, and not because he's out of hairgel. The truly concerning issue is that apart from the stylish lock of white hair across the front of his fringe—a physical quirk that had come free-of-charge with puberty—the white hairs have exponentially increased all over his head lately, skewing the ratio of black to white hairs too low for his liking.
Truth be told, it wasn't at all something to get upset about for someone who’s almost fifty. To some degree, having accumulated this many years of life experience has gradually settled him into some sort of cozy comfort zone. Waking up at 6 a.m. Cracking three eggs into the frypan as breakfast. Setting pre-ground dark roasted coffee beans into the DeLonghi. Making two cuppas, one for the eggs and one for the road. Administrative work, meetings, and more administrative work before he hits the road at 8 p.m. and the bed at 10 p.m.
It's as if he's been living life on repeat. On the weekdays, he sleeps, wakes, works. On the weekends, he sleeps in, wakes late, and works out, and sometimes visits the lesser-trodden districts when night falls, because successful CEOs need to destress, too; the fact remains that he’s got no fixed partner he can rely on for such purposes. That last bit isn’t even much of a secret—rumours have always flown that big boss Yan Wushi has always been quite the seasoned bachelor, and everyone has presumed that it was his personal choice to not settle down with anyone. But such excursions are few and far between, never lasting long enough to interrupt the consistency of his days in the slightest: love that lives as long as the night; temporary ties which he cuts off the very next day, before returning swiftly to his unchanging daily schedule.
It's as if he's been living life as an old MP3 player put on loop. Not that it's a bad thing exactly—after all, he's making a lot of money, and as much as others might like to protest, he's been making the money legitimately. And who doesn't want to make a lot of money on repeat? But nothing particularly exciting happens, until perhaps one day in the unforeseeable future when someone decides to wage some corporate battle against his company, and at the moment he's still way too powerful and too careful for that to actually happen.
To some degree, he does miss the raucous old days when he'd just started out, barely twenty, pocket empty of cash but heart full of conviction and courage, waging war with the world. Before he’d known it, he'd conquered the pharmaceutical world in fifteen years. And before he’d known it, fifteen more years pass, rendering him a little less rough around the edges, and a little more...bored. Jaded. Tired.
Well...cranky as he is, he's also hungry. So he cracks three eggs into the frypan. Sets pre-ground dark roasted coffee beans into the DeLonghi. Makes two cuppas, one for the eggs and one for the road. On the television, some shrill human voices can be heard—it's a bunch of schoolgirls and a middle-aged female news presenter doing a morning news special on the latest pancake café that has just opened in town.
The camera zooms in onto the pancakes and surprisingly, he catches himself thinking that they actually look sort of delicious. Well…he does realise most things look delicious if he's been having chicken eggs everyday for breakfast for the past fifteen years. He continues watching the programme, and two things are obvious: firstly, there are very few men, especially of the middle aged sort. Secondly, no one's alone—everyone's there either with friends, family, or their date.
A third thing is obvious—everyone there, mostly schoolgirls, are giggling, looking extremely silly happy and well-fed, and evidently having a lot of fun. It's been forever since Yan Wushi's felt that life was even a bit fun—for the most part, it's now just boring. And maybe a tad lonely.
Before the programme ends, the presenter announces that the store will be opening a second branch within the central business district, and it turns out that the location is near enough to his office that he's technically able to pop in at the opening time for breakfast and then head straight to work, but…
…he reckons an old guy four months shy of turning 50 has zero business being in that kind of kitschy, fashionable shop targeted at young and pure schoolgirls under 18.
____________________________________________________
"Good morning, Mr Yan," the workers bow in unison as he makes his entry into the office building. Yu Shengyan bows as he accosts his boss at the lobby.
"Mr Yan, the shortlisted prospective employees have all arrived for the 9 a.m. interview slot. I have checked your schedules and you are free for the morning, so I trust you will be interviewing them personally this time as well?"
"Of course.” Lackadaisical as he may seem, Yan Wushi is one of few CEOs in this city who handpick their subordinates personally, be they prospective executive directors or prospective cleaning staff. Call it interpersonal proximity, mock affection, or even contamination phobia, but if there's one thing Wushi insists, it's that only trustworthy folk can even come close to laying a finger on Huanyue—only fools let their company crumble from the inside out.
It's no secret that this company is one of the most sought-after workplaces, and one of the hardest to get into—hardly surprising, given the potency of Yan Wushi's skillset. His methods are unorthodox, and sometimes frightening, but rarely has anyone ever produced evidence showing that they're unclean, in the ethical sense. It is well-known information that Huanyue Pharmaceuticals' health products has always never failed a single public safety check, even after the recent tightening of national medical policies. The same cannot be said for the rest of their competitors out there, given the rising trend of pharmaceutical company misdeeds—counterfeit products, false reports of ingredient lists, unchecked chemicals, you name it—only Huanyue Pharmaceuticals has always had the competence to make it big in the healthcare product industry without cheap dirty tricks…
Well, only Huanyue and one other company. Which incidentally probably doesn't even rely on any tricks whatsoever, unlike Huanyue, which does rely on, well, a few clean tricks.
The interview room is on the third floor, so Shengyan presses '3' before 'CLOSE', but right before the two ends of the lift door make contact, something jams itself in between them.
It's a human arm.
As the lift door reopens, the owner of the arm chokes as he pants for air, probably having just run for the lift. A pale and slender man in smart but slightly unkempt office attire, a light green collared dress shirt and black pants. Jet black chin-length hair, neat but slightly in need of trimming. "I'm really sorry. I heard there was an interview today and that it starts at 9 a.m., but I was in another city so I had to rush to get here on the bullet train. I hope I've made it on time."
"…yes, there's an interview, but…" Shengyan frowns. "All of today's interviewees are already sitting in the waiting room right now, and as far as I've checked, no one's missing. Are you sure you're actually supposed to be here today?"
The man’s expression is unchanging despite the manager’s cold and straightforward query. "I don't think I am. But I wonder if I may be given the privilege of joining the rest of the interviewees today?" He bows deeply at Shengyan and Wushi. "I really need to attend this interview as soon as possible."
Shengyan opens his mouth to say something about following the protocol, only for Wushi to put one firm hand on his shoulder. "Let him take the interview." The corners of Wushi's lips are turned upwards, his eyes transfixed on the stranger. "After all, he's even gone to the extent of rushing here from another city since the morning."
"Thank you," he bows politely, stepping into the lift. As the lift door closes, he stands centimetres in front of them, facing away towards the lift door. His back is straight and his composure unshaken—amidst the apparent fatigue and humility in his figure, he exudes an unusual sense of competence and intensity, as if he knows that he hasn't given the best first impression, yet does not know fear.
From the situation that he'd described earlier, though, he definitely does seem to know desperation.
Shengyan, being the goody protocol-follower he is, throws a questioning glance at his boss, only for said boss to lean close towards his ear and whisper something.
"I know him. I've seen him somewhere before."
Shengyan's questioning glance grows into one of shock. Wushi, on the other hand, is smiling, and it's not exactly the same fake and nonchalant smirk he always wears. Rather, it's a somewhat enigmatic smile, brimming with intense but restrained exhilaration. Shengyan stares at his boss with equal parts fear and wonder— the gaze in his eyes is so alive that it makes him almost look five years younger, and Shengyan thinks it must have been fifteen years since he’s looked this excited.
Many unexpected things are happening this morning.
____________________________________________________
"Come in," Shengyan calls, beckoning their final interviewee for the day.
The man from the incident at the lift walks into the interview room, visibly less unkempt, and facial expression equally serious.
"Good morning, Mr Yan, Mr Yu." He bows, placing his documents onto the table. "Sorry for the incident earlier. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to meet with you today. My name is-"
"Shen Qiao," Yan Wushi cuts him off, voice singsong in a way more overbearing way than the usual tone he adopts when he’s speaking to employees, prospective or not. "Good to meet you, Shen Qiao."
Shen Qiao glances at Yan Wushi, surprised at the unexpected interruption. Shengyan gulps, feeling a strange tension emanate from his superior—the first of such scary moods in a while, as if to remind him that his much-feared senior, who’d given him nightmares when he was an intern himself, has not in fact lost his touch.
"…good to meet you too, Mr Yan."
"Mr Shen," Shengyan starts the interview process quickly, strange ominous feeling brewing in the deep of his gut. "Please explain your motivations for wishing to join us—"
"Let me handle the interview this time, Shengyan." Yan Wushi throws an unreadable smile at Shen Qiao, who visibly staggers a little, as if in reflex of a potential blow to his face landing soon.
"Shen Qiao," Yan Wushi starts. "First disciple of world-renowned pharmaceutical scientist Qi Fengge, and CEO, or should I say, ex-CEO of Xuandu Pharmaceuticals. Also known as…my competitor." Wushi's still smiling, but his tone of voice is not—it is lilting but cold; extraverted but protective. "Please explain your motives for wishing to join us."
Shen Qiao is silent for nearly half a minute before he speaks up. In the few moments of silence, Yan Wushi does nothing but stare him down, and the process, he realises that his corporate competitor's appearances are…strangely ethereal, not in the way reminiscent of your everyday TV-superstar or idol-type handsome guy, but with features that give him an air of having walked straight out of an ancient Chinese ink brush painting. It is only when he speaks again that Yan Wushi’s attention returns to their present situation.
"…I need your help, Mr Yan."
…that wasn’t a response Yan Wushi had expected.
"My help?" Yan Wushi leans forward slightly onto the table as he stares at the interviewee harder. "To what do I owe the pleasure of being asked for help by the biggest boss of the biggest pharmaceutical company in the country?"
Shen Qiao is visibly uncomfortable, shifting a little in his seat—but he doesn't show any sign of backing down. Poker face and posture completely intact, he looks straight at the eyes of the domineering man in front of him.
"I will cut to the chase. Two weeks ago, I traveled to America to attend a series of scientific conferences. Right after I landed, I was assaulted and fell into a coma for more than a week. When I awoke, I was informed that my deputy and junior, Yu Ai, had taken over my position in that time.”
Yan Wushi is silent in thought for a moment—he’d already known about Xuandu’s recent change in leadership, but he had no clue that this was the story behind it. A slightly wicked expression emerges on his countenance.
Seems like today is turning out to be the most unexpected day.
"I see. Basically, you got overthrown by your own deputy."
Ex-CEO Shen coughs at Wushi’s brash rephrasing of the situation. "Yes, in a way. I will now get to my point. My point is not that I was removed from the position, but that my successor has completely changed the company’s entire system.”
“System?” Yu Shengyan queries, confused. “What kind of system?”
“Decision-making system. In essence, the company’s products will undergo a huge change due to changes in decisions regarding the ingredient and dosage inclusion criteria. Specifically, the changes made were in favour of profit, and away from health and safety.” Shen Qiao sighs, looking remorse. “I was told that even amidst the protests of a few more ethically-minded employees, no one was able to overrule the new leader's decisions. Now Xuandu is looking like a company I can no longer recognise. I left them because I am helpless against the changes, and there's nothing I can do to straighten the company back into following the ground rules and principles set by our founder."
A moment of silence; Shen Qiao breathes, as if to brace himself for what is about to escape his mouth. "But there might be something you can do. Huanyue isn't only a pharmaceutical firm wielding immense power. It has also had a reputation for being spotlessly ethical. And this is why I have come to you."
Yan Wushi smiles, feeling excitement brew in his gut.
"You said you’d get to your point. I’ve been waiting for a while now—what is your point exactly? What do you want me to do?"
"Please help me bring Xuandu Pharmaceuticals down." Shen Qiao's voice is calm, but seething. "Destroy the company; leave them bankrupt if you must. Human lives are at stake."
The look on Shen Qiao's face is one of conviction, and Yan Wushi realises that today has, indeed, been the most unexpected day.
Never thought the day would come when Yan Wushi, the well-preserved and most-hated supervillain of China’s pharmaceutical Jianghu, would actually be tasked with being a superhero.
____________________________________________________
The door clicks with a shut as the interviewee leaves the meeting room. After making sure he's gone, Yu Shengyan speaks up.
"Mr Yan," Shengyan's voice is respectful, but anxious and wary. "Are you sure it was a good idea to agree to help him?"
Yan Wushi only laughs. Shengyan frowns.
"Boss. Have you ever thought that he might be lying to us, and that he might in fact be some sort of…spy? To bring our company down, instead of the other way round?"
"Of course, you dummy. Who do you think your boss is? A dummy?"
"…Then why did you just agree to helping him…?"
"Listen to yourself, because you just got something right." Wushi's smiling, but his voice is cold. "I just agreed to helping him."
Because after all, if there's one thing Wushi knows, it's that only fools let their company crumble from the inside out. In a twisted way, he’s already lying in anticipation to watch his true motives fall from his sleeves. After all, from experience, the most innocent-looking ones are often the most beguiling. His mind has already built for himself a fortress of expectations that Shen Qiao will betray him anytime.
His gut, however, is telling him that Shen Qiao may, in fact, betray his expectations instead. Maybe it’s his clean and honest demeanour, or maybe it’s the soft but straightforward way in which he asserts his principles. (Who even has principles anymore?)
Maybe it’s the way he sticks out like a sore thumb in this cruel corporate universe in cruel 22nd century China, perhaps the last of his kind—pure and clean, untainted. Humane.
He’s going to have to watch this one closely for a bit.
>>>>> Continue to Chapter 2: tumblr | ao3 >>>>>>>
🎂 happy womb-escape day, qin jiu! | 1142 words | fluff/humour, T | birthday oneshot (HBD QJ!) 🥛
You Huo thanks Qin Jiu for 'escaping the womb'. Qin Jiu's first reaction is one of confusion—he cannot help but think of the giant octopus at first, though he eventually realises what he means.
(As the day ends, Qin Jiu feels like the luckiest man alive, and he sure is glad that he'd 'escaped the womb', too.)
(image credits: missevans.com)
☂ Inspired by an old meme. 17/6: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GIN! click here to read on AO3 or click under the cut! ☂
"What do you want to do today?"
Qin Jiu looks at You Huo, impressed—it's only nine in the morning, and he's already said seven words to him; more words than he does in one day on average.
"Isn't it today?" You Huo's tone of voice is one of having just uttered the most ordinarily boring and boringly ordinary thing in the world. "Your anniversary for escaping the womb."
"Anniversary for escaping…the womb?" Qin Jiu tries to recollect his memories—he wonders if he's talking about the time they'd escaped the octopus belly, but belly and womb are completely different anatomical regions, and amongst the many things Qin Jiu doesn't believe, he doesn't believe his boyfriend doesn't know this everyday fact.
A few moments in, and Qin Jiu is still confused. He reckons that his facial expression must have been blanker than the white-faced ghosts back in the sailor exam, because You Huo says nothing—he only clucks his tongue, the lingual click reverberating even louder in the quiet room than any of his words have resounded that day. He hands Qin Jiu his phone.
Qin Jiu pokes at it; as it lights up, the screen is still locked, but nonetheless fully demonstrative of the contents he needed to see, on the little calendar widget at the top of the home screen:
June 17: Gin’s Birthday
"Oh," Qin Jiu feels his lips reflexively curving into a smile. He'd completely forgotten himself, but seems like someone else, a more important person—the most important one—hadn't. "You remembered?"
"I'm not experienced at planning such events," You Huo answers without answering, while somehow also delivering Qin Jiu a question. "So go ahead and tell me what you want to do today."
"You remembered," Qin Jiu's smirk grows into a grin. "Can't believe you remembered."
You Huo shoots Qin Jiu a look that says, answer my question, and don't talk nonsense, and of course I remembered, all at the same time, and Qin Jiu laughs.
"I want to spend today with my favourite person," is all Qin Jiu says. "That is all."
Qin Jiu throws You Huo a shit-eating grin, eyes not leaving his.
You Huo shoots Qin Jiu a look that says, I regret asking you, and any more nonsense and today is your deathday, and don't you already spend every day with me?, all at the same time. Qin Jiu laughs.
---
Turns out You Huo isn't the only one who remembers, because when they get to the military office, Qin Jiu gets showered with confetti.
"Happy birthday, boss!" 922, the unsurprising confetti-thrower grins so hard, Qin Jiu thinks his teeth may fall off.
"Hope you like chocolate," 154 is holding a brown cake lighted with candles. "We made this for you together yesterday night. Even 21 and 78 joined us!"
"Thanks. I like chocolate. I hope our Invigilator A does, too," Qin Jiu nicks some of the chocolate icing with his index finger. "Open your mouth," he grins, said finger worming its way to You Huo's face. "Or this will decorate your nose like the cherry on top of a sundae."
"Put the icing down," You Huo shifts a languid inch away, deftly dodging. "Unless you want your finger bitten off."
"Not that I wouldn't let you," Qin Jiu laughs, managing a smidge of icing on his cheek. "If you really want to."
It's been six straight hours of army paperwork on one of those rare in-office days for them, which means they're only officially off at 8 in the evening. At 7.45, Qin Jiu feels a tug on his wrist. He looks up—it's none other than their bigshot; his bigshot.
"Let's go."
"Playing hooky, boss?" Qin Jiu jests. "We're not even done with these administrative duties."
"I call the shots here, so you will do as I say," is all You Huo says. "And I say, now, that you are liberated from these duties."
Qin Jiu laughs as he gets pulled by the wrist—seems like they must have more important things to do at the moment.
---
"Wow," Qin Jiu grins. "A candlelit picnic on a deserted beach, three hours away from the mainland? Have I swallowed a romance novel—or rather, have you?"
"It's quieter here," is You Huo's quiet response.
"True. Had we been back in the office, perhaps 922 would already have sung his lungs out a second time by now."
"...I'm not singing, just so you know." You Huo removes something from the picnic basket—it's a cake; their second one for the day. "I do have candles, if you want."
Way to fan the flames of his feelings for him. Qin Jiu chuckles.
"Of course I want the candles," Qin Jiu whips out a lighter from his pocket. "Gotta set fire to everything we can set fire to, no?"
You Huo doesn't respond—he, does, nonetheless, go ahead and 'set fire' to each of the candles, the cake beginning to look like some sort of crowned, glowing alien floating in the dark of the dim moonlight.
"Thank you for escaping the womb thirty-odd years ago," You Huo's face and words are equal parts eerie and hilarious behind the lighted cake he's holding. “Make a wish.”
The entire scene feels like a witch ritual, and Qin Jiu can barely suppress the mirth bubbling from his gut. At the same time, the little crevice in the little space between his lungs is warm from the candles, and yet warmer from everything he's had the honour of receiving today, from the only one he'd ever wish for.
"The world wouldn't be as bright and grand without you." You Huo’s voice sends light but crisp reverberations into the salty air, resounding soft but clear in the silence of the night. The flames on the candles flicker in his eyes transfixed on Qin Jiu’s, adding gentle emphasis to his words.
Qin Jiu leans forward suddenly. You Huo doesn't stagger backwards at the movement because he'd been expecting him to blow out the candles in the first place, but he also does more than he’d expected him to. Before he knows it, the candles are blown out, leaving them in near pitch-darkness; Qin Jiu is on top of him, his lips on top of his. As if playing gooseberry, their phones beep in an automatic notification that it's 18 June, 00:00, but Qin Jiu does not care; neither of them do.
"I hope it isn't too late for a birthday kiss from my most beloved," Qin Jiu smiles between their teeths and lips, feeling like the luckiest man alive.
You Huo says nothing—he lets his lips do the talking for him, and Qin Jiu can hear every word he says, including:
I love you, too; thank you for being born, and thank you for being alive. Happy birthday.
☂ in second-person | JiuHuo | fluff/domestic/post-canon | 968 words ☂
When he'd first called him 'my big invigilator', the greeting wasn't exactly well-received, to say the least.
"I've always been my own person, but I'm now already also yours."
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When he'd first called him 'my big invigilator', the greeting wasn't exactly well-received, to say the least.
"My big invigilator," Qin Jiu held a bag of bread—compliments from the Languages exam office. "Baguette or vienna for you?" "I belong to myself," was his only response; he hadn't even bothered answering the actual question before his head fell back onto the table with a soft but perceptible thud, like a full stop at the end of a terse sentence. Seconds later, You Huo was no longer awake. Qin Jiu clicked his tongue—he'd only wanted to ask if he was hungry.
Afterwards, Qin Jiu had the prudence to try softening it a little—surely 'our' would work. It wasn't like it couldn't be interpreted as just a friendly way of signaling in-group solidarity.
"Invigilator A, join us for dinner?" was another examiner's invitation the other day—a half-ditched attempt to bridge some degree of camaraderie between the two factions. "No thanks." Well...not that they'd expected him to accept anyway. "Come on," Qin Jiu, now also known as 001, had no prudence to give up, nor give in. "Surely our big invigilator can show us some face. We're colleagues after all, even if not from the same side." "..." Ten minutes later, the few of them, 001 and A included, sat around the restaurant table, half of them regretting their life decisions, most of the other half wanting to go home, one of them smirking and the last one of them looking like he could kill a man any moment. "Can't believe our big invigilator really did show us some face." Qin Jiu, on You Huo's right, reached over to You Huo's left where the teapot was positioned. "What a lucky day." "I am my own person." You Huo pushes away his teacup which Qin Jiu had just filled, the scalding water narrowly missing the latter's pinky. "I also have arms of my own, so drink your tea."
Surprisingly, "our big invigilator" seemed to have wound up being acceptable at some point.
"Traitor," some drunken colleague of theirs (relatively new and junior-ranking: 968th, going by the tag on his shirt), had grown the balls to go up to Invigilator A of all people to unleash their frustrations. "You people are traitors to humanity for not stepping up against anything. And you most of all, A." You Huo wasn't moving—it wasn't clear if he was just letting him continue kicking him in that inebriated state, or was a few moments away from potentially killing this Invigilator 968. "I'm afraid our big invigilator has an appointment with me now," Qin Jiu had stepped in—it wasn't clear who he was trying to save. "If you'd excuse us." Pulling away 'Traitor' Invigilator A by the wrist, Qin Jiu realises he'd been silent the entire time. No protest; no cold assertion of not belonging to anyone but himself.
Two years and one coincident period of memory loss later, Qin Jiu's hypothesis still remained the same—"our big invigilator" (actually, now "our top student") is O.K., at least if not uttered sarcastically. Or maybe it was because ever since that time they'd 'cleaned' the haunted school, they came to be officially established as 'friends'.
(Qin Jiu had certain complaints to make about the 'friends' status, but he figured it was, at least, certainly better than being enemies.)
"You can make yourself at home," Qin Jiu threw his jacket over the couch, evidently making himself at home at his own home. "Would our top student like a drink? I have gin." "Water is fine." You Huo was already sitting on the couch at this point; a few seconds in and his eyes were already shut. Qin Jiu chuckled—he didn't think he'd really make himself at home. (He hadn't told him this yet, but he could make himself at home here any time he wanted.)
Three years and a victory later, they try to make themselves a home. Some time ago, they'd realised their goals were aligned; along the way, they'd also had certain other mutual realisations on the side—those that really felt more central than anything else; those that told them it wasn't just their goals which were aligned.
The door clicks close. It doesn't take Qin Jiu a long process of elimination to figure out who's back.
"My big invigilator's back," Qin Jiu is already at the stairway to accost him. "How much I've missed you."
"Move," You Huo's fingers and palm apply a funny ticklish pressure on his abdomen. It's obviously not a lot of pressure, but Qin Jiu lets himself get 'moved' anyway.
Upstairs, the only room is the bedroom—there's only one, the master bedroom, and even the toilet is within the room. Life is better here than in that dingy old district, and not only because it isn't an either-or between 'invigilator room' and 'confinement room'. Also, the rooms are pretty large—at least, large enough to fit a bed meant for two.
"I've been thinking about something recently."
You Huo blinks at Qin Jiu near-expressionlessly. In such moments of seeming inscrutability, only those who've already known him for a while may manage to catch the question mark in his eyes; Qin Jiu is mere centimetres away, so he definitely sees the question mark.
"You never protest anymore at being called 'our big invigilator', or even 'my big invigilator'. Same for 'our top student' or 'my top student'. Why?" Qin Jiu's trying to frown but he fails; of course he's grinning, it's a happy problem. "What happened to belonging to yourself, and being your own person?"
Qin Jiu is no longer centimetres away, nor waiting for an answer—after all, he already knows it.
"I've always been my own person, but I'm now already also yours."
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