Chapter Text
「 There’s a place you just can’t reach,
unless you have a dream too large to bear alone. 」
He sees the exact moment the minute hand ticks past noon.
The clock chimes once, loud and obnoxious, echoing around the tall walls of the lecture hall. Perking up, Jiang Cheng turns expectantly towards the front of the lecture hall. Yet, to his frustration, nothing around him changes. The professor continues to drone on. The class continues to diligently take notes. They have been on the same fucking slide for the last fifteen minutes , and literally all it says is the name of the course. Biting back a groan, he looks again to his watch, impatience only growing with every passing second.
It’s the first week of class. Truthfully, he had been banking on this class ending early, but his professor is taking an unnecessarily long time to explain the syllabus, and now, they are running late . Jiang Cheng had stopped listening a full ten minutes ago , consumed with anxiety and a single thought: he needs to go. He needs to go.
Finally, the professor pulls up a YouTube video.
“And to conclude today’s class—”
Yes.
“I would like to show you a video on process innovation in a company that I’m sure all of you know of.”
As he catches sight of the video’s title, Jiang Cheng closes his eyes, praying for patience. Around him, his classmates have begun snickering and shooting him meaningful looks. The professor’s crinkled eyes twinkle at him.
The professor clicks play. After a short moment, a woman’s voice begins to speak pleasantly.
“At Jiang Enterprises,” begins the voiceover, “innovation is a core part of the business model, whether it comes to food, hospitality, or electronics. As one of the biggest conglomerates in China, Jiang Enterprises has…”
Jiang Cheng tunes out the rest of the video, discreetly opening up WeChat on his laptop.
臭婴儿 // Big Baby
class running over time. meet outside your lecture building?
12:05PM
He waits for a full minute, but does not receive a response. His message has not even been read. A burst of irritation overcomes him, and he slams his laptop shut just as the video draws to an end with Jiang Enterprises’ familiar corporate motto:
“Achieving the Impossible. For you. With you.”
The professor ends the lecture, and Jiang Cheng immediately books it out of there. His chauffeur is already waiting at the foyer when he reaches the main building. He jumps into the car, pulling on his seatbelt.
“Zhongyang Conservatory,” he says shortly. “And step on it, please.”
They reach the university within twenty minutes. Swinging his messenger bag over one shoulder, Jiang Cheng hops out of the car and heads off for the lecture hall at a dead run. He manages to draw his phone out of his bag as he does so. Opening Wechat, however, he finds that his message has still not been read. Sure enough, there is no one waiting for him outside the lecture hall.
Making an educated guess, he heads towards the recording studios instead. He is immediately recognized by a student as he makes his way through the winding corridors. The boy nods at him in greeting, carrying a trombone over one shoulder.
“Here to drag your brother out for lunch?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng manages, still breathless from the run.
The boy nods again, and points. “He’s in that studio.”
“Thanks,” Jiang Cheng pants, and pushes the right door open.
As expected, Wei Wuxian is still in front of the computer, biting his thumbnail down. His notes are strewn all over the table, his instruments not even in their respective cases yet. Jiang Cheng’s irritation doubles.
“Wei Wuxian!” he snaps, and immediately begins to gather up the papers. “We are late to meet Dad! We were supposed to be waiting at the foyer ten minutes ago!”
“I know, I know,” Wei Wuxian groans. “It’s just— the file is too big. I need to wait for it to finish rendering before I can save it.”
As Wei Wuxian waits anxiously for the loading bar to complete, Jiang Cheng hurriedly begins to put the scattered instruments back in their cases, neatening the papers and slotting them into Wei Wuxian’s bag. Finally, the application finishes processing and Wei Wuxian manages to save his file.
It’s another five minutes or so of frantic packing before they leave the recording studio, carrying a few bags each of recording equipment and instruments. They are halfway to the foyer when Wei Wuxian startles, slapping first at his pockets, and then ferreting desperately through his bags. He looks up at Jiang Cheng.
“I think—” he begins, “I think I left my headphones in the recording studio.”
Those headphones were a present from Father, noise-cancelling, top of the range. Jiang Cheng knows just how attached his adopted brother is to those headphones. Groaning, he thrusts the bags into Wei Wuxian’s arms.
“Head to the foyer first,” he orders. “I’ll get your headphones and catch up with you.”
With a firm nod, Wei Wuxian turns and continues to hobble determinedly towards the foyer, all but drowning in bulky black bags and instrument cases. Jiang Cheng sprints back to the recording building and locates the studio they’d just left. Thankfully, he finds the headphones still hooked up to the computer.
He carefully unplugs them, and runs back out.
By the time he reaches the foyer, a familiar burgundy limousine is already waiting. While the driver helps Wei Wuxian to load his stuff into the car, Father stands by the open door, checking his watch. He turns as Jiang Cheng arrives panting, and frowns.
“A-Cheng,” he begins disapprovingly, “why didn’t you help your brother carry his things from the studio?” He looks down at his watch again. “You are also very late.”
Abruptly, Jiang Cheng’s throat tightens up. He doesn’t think he could say anything at this point, even if he wanted to. At that moment, however, Wei Wuxian comes hopping out of the car, eyes wide, and hands held out placatingly.
“He did help!” he protests. “I left my headphones back in the recording studio and only discovered halfway here, so he left the bags with me and ran back to get it! We didn’t mean to be late, Uncle Jiang. I’m sorry. It was my fault for not leaving the recording studio on time.”
He holds out his hand for his headphones and, with a lump in his throat, Jiang Cheng wordlessly hands it to him. Father’s eyes widen at that gesture.
“Oh,” he says, and swallows. “I— I’m sorry, A-Cheng.”
But the lump in Jiang Cheng’s throat does not dissolve. Unable to speak, he just shakes his head and shrugs, as if to say it’s okay. Not meeting his father’s eye, he climbs into the limousine, sits down, and looks determinedly out of the window.
To say that Jiang Cheng had never been the apple of his father’s eye would be to speak an unfortunate but undeniable truth.
He’s never been the apple of his father’s eye. Truthfully, Jiang Cheng doesn’t think he’s ever been the apple of anyone’s eye. His sister used to tease that he’d come out of his mother’s womb frowning. He’d proceeded to grow into a sullen, scowling child, and then a sullen, scowling teen, and now into a sullen, scowling adult. To put it bluntly, he had been a spectacularly un-adorable child, silent and glowering like he’d emerged into the world carrying the memory of a thousand past lives’ grudges.
That was unfortunate fact number one.
Here’s unfortunate fact number two:
Wei Wuxian.
Yeah, that’s it. That’s unfortunate fact number two.
Jiang Cheng vividly remembers the day his father had come home with Wei Wuxian in the car. Pale and thin, all but drowning in tattered and poorly patched up clothes, the boy had nevertheless emerged from the car, chattering with all the brightness of the sun. Even then, he had been effervescent; cheerful, sociable, and unfortunately— utterly adorable.
Father’s eyes had not left the boy’s face for even a moment as he’d led the boy up into the Jiang family mansion. They had stayed rooted and smiling even as Jiang Cheng had run excitedly down the foyer to greet him, even as his dogs had followed, barking excitedly in tow. He had only looked away as that boyish grin had turned to tears, as the chatter had turned to screams.
At that point, Jiang Cheng had only had Princess, Jasmine, Coral and Lovely for two weeks, but he had already known in his little five-year-old heart that he had four soulmates, and that their names were Princess, Jasmine, Coral, and Lovely. In other words, he had been completely and utterly smitten, and found it frankly incomprehensible how any sane human being could not like dogs. And thus, he knew that Wei Wuxian had to be no good news at all. Probably a demon. Maybe some gremlin in hiding.
Supernatural premonition had likely been the reason for the lump in his throat as he’d watched his father pick that strange boy up, as he’d walked up the stairs, bouncing Wei Wuxian on his hip and murmuring soothingly. Jiang Cheng could count on one hand the number of times his father had held him like that.
He still remembers trailing after them, wanting to speak, wanting to shout for his father— but struck strangely speechless, for the first but not the last time. That evening, around the dinner table, he had watched in that same powerless silence as Father had explained the situation.
At the time, he had only explained the bare bones of it, but Jiang Cheng had slowly gathered the rest of the story over the years. Wei Wuxian’s parents had been Father’s best friends from childhood. Although they had once shared dreams of travelling together, making music and starting an independent label, Father had eventually been unable to join them. The other two had gone on to start Wei Records while touring as an instrumental duo. Unfortunately, just as they had begun their rise into stardom, they had met an unfortunate end on the way to a performance venue, leaving their only son behind.
Mother had watched stonily as Father explained that Wei Wuxian would be living with them from then on.
“From now on,” he had said, “A-Xian will be your brother.”
Jiang Cheng had finally stood up, unable to listen on for a moment longer.
“He doesn’t even like dogs!” he’d blurted out, with all the strident horror of a five-year-old. “How can a person who doesn’t like dogs become my brother?”
Father had turned to him with an expression of indescribable disappointment, and Jiang Cheng had shrunk back in his seat. For the second, but not the last time, he had been struck painfully mute by that single expression.
The next day, he’d emerged from his room late in the afternoon, having spent most of the previous night crying inconsolably into his blankets. Somehow, although he had overslept by many many hours, no one had come to wake him. As he’d wandered the empty, echoing corridors of the Jiang family mansion, he had become increasingly confused. Like a living nightmare, he’d begun to run through the manor, searching frantically for his missing companions. At last, he’d found his Father reading the newspaper in the parlor, and burst into tears.
“I can’t find them,” he’d sobbed. “Princess, Jasmine, Coral, and Lovely— they’ve gone missing!”
Bewildered, Father had immediately risen, setting his newspaper aside.
“I—” he had begun, numbly. “I did not know you were so attached to them, A-Cheng. They’ve only been here for two weeks.”
He’d bitten his lip.
“I gave them away.”
After a short drive, the limousine pulls up at the entrance of an opulent hotel, set in the very heart of Beijing. Lotus Pier’s manager is already waiting by the front doors. Bowing and greeting Father in a low voice, he ushers them up the stairs of the grand foyer and into a restaurant. The restaurant is bustling and lively, but somehow serene, set on a large terrace that overlooks a sprawling field of lotuses. It’s clear from the first glance that the restaurant is fully booked, but they are quickly guided towards a private room.
Over the past few years, this particular restaurant has steadily gained a reputation as one of the best restaurants in the country, raising the profile of the hotel along with it. Only three weeks ago, the restaurant had finally been awarded its third Michelin star, cementing Lotus Pier’s status as the crown jewel of Jiang Hospitality.
Inside the room, his mother and sister are already waiting. Mother immediately narrows her eyes.
“You are late,” she notes bitingly.
“I apologize, my lady,” Father responds.
They sit down around the table.
“A-Xian, A-Cheng,” Jiang Yanli greets fondly. “It’s been awhile. I’ve told the staff to make all your favorites.” She turns to the waiter. “You can start bringing in the dishes. Bring some lotus seeds too.”
Wei Wuxian flings himself at her in a hug.
“Lotus seeds~!” he sings, and then pulls back. “We heard about the third Michelin star. Congratulations, A-Jie! I guess that makes you a three Michelin star chef now!”
Jiang Yanli chuckles.
“It was a team effort,” she says humbly. “I’m not the main chef of this restaurant.”
“Ah, but it was you who trained up the chefs and the staff,” Father interjects. “If not for you, would this restaurant have improved enough to earn its third Michelin star? Would Lotus Pier have gained such recognition and prestige?” He smiles warmly. “I’m so proud of you, A-Li.”
The waiter comes back with the requested lotus seeds, freshly picked and still in the pod. Amidst the crack and crumble of fingers into crispy shell, they catch up with each other on their recent activities.
“I suppose I’ll just keep on moving through our restaurants for now,” Jiang Yanli says, popping a peeled seed into Wei Wuxian’s bowl, “training up the staff, and improving the facilities and recipes one-by-one.”
Wei Wuxian lights up, abandoning the lotus seed he’d been attempting to peel with much difficulty, to devour the one in his bowl.
“A-Jie is the best!” he coos, and grins. “Maybe you can earn us a few more Michelin stars, eh?”
Jiang Yanli laughs. “I can try, but no promises.”
“If anyone can do it, it’s A-Jie!” Wei Wuxian praises shamelessly.
A round of laughter goes around the table. Father leans forward, looking to Wei Wuxian.
“And what about you, A-Xian?” he asks warmly. “How is Wei Records going?”
At that, Wei Wuxian immediately begins to prattle about the track he’d completed since they’d last met up. Much of it goes right over Jiang Cheng’s head, but Wei Wuxian quickly fishes out his phone to let them have a listen. They all quiet as he plays the track.
“The backing track is exquisite,” Father praises.
“I like it,” Jiang Yanli agrees.
Jiang Cheng just listens quietly for a few moments. The beat is complex in a way he doesn’t have the vocabulary to describe, slow, but wicked sharp, layered over one another and reverberating in a strangely textured rhythm.
“Who’s singing?” he asks instead, after a moment. He’s listened to a number of Wei Wuxian’s tracks, but this is the first time there’ve been vocals.
“I was producing the track for my coursework initially,” Wei Wuxian admits, “but my professor liked it so much that he introduced me to one of his ex-students, who’s trying to debut as a solo artist. I adapted the track. She composed and sang the vocals. I sent the track to her three days ago for review. Once she’s approved it, it will be the first track released under Wei Records.”
Father sits up with a delighted gasp.
“That’s a milestone!” he cries. “Bagging the first client is always the hardest part of starting a business, A-Xian. Congratulations!”
“I knew you could do it,” Jiang Yanli tells him warmly. “You’re so talented. Everyone should be able to see that.”
Jiang Cheng is silent for a few moments longer.
“You’ll need to do some publicity when you launch the track,” he finally says. “Or else, no one will ever hear of your track. Have you settled on your marketing plan?”
Wei Wuxian’s smile turns a little sheepish. He looks to Jiang Cheng with an embarrassed grin.
“Ah, yes,” he says, and laughs. “That’s the part I know nothing about. I’m still trying to figure that out.”
“Take your time,” Father cuts back in excitedly. “If you need anything— equipment, contacts, capital— err, manpower? I’m not so sure what goes into marketing a track either, but if you need anything, just let me know. Wei Records is a subsidiary of Jiang Enterprises. Any of Jiang Enterprises’ resources are yours now.”
Lowering his eyes, Jiang Cheng continues to peel his own lotus seed.
Four years ago, Wei Wuxian had been accepted into the composition program under the prestigious Zhongyang Conservatory in Beijing. He had conveyed his intentions to drop out of high school, so as to begin the program immediately, and to revive Wei Records under the stage name Wei Wuxian. While Mother had been appalled, Father had been extremely supportive. He’d clearly been elated to see the revival of the company he had always dreamed of starting with his best friends.
His father’s clear laughter brings him back to the present. He looks up to see Father leaning over the table, patting Wei Wuxian’s hand fondly.
“Oh, A-Xian, I am so excited,” he sighs. “I just know it. One day, Wei Records will be an entertainment empire, another one of Jiang Enterprises’ crown jewels.”
Father settles back into his own chair, still chuckling.
“Jiang Enterprises is a huge conglomerate,” he muses, “but we still do not have any investments in entertainment. That really is a pity, don’t you think? One that I hope to rectify, starting with Wei Records. With the rise of the internet age, digital media is truly is the future. We cannot afford to miss out.”
Finally, it seems like Mother can hold her tongue no longer, scoffing.
“Entertainment is a dangerous investment,” she cuts in. “It’s entirely out of Jiang Enterprises current core competencies.” She purses her lips. “Jiang Fengmian, don’t just go giving out money and contacts, taking unprofitable businesses under the Jiang umbrella, just because you wanted to be a musician all those years ago! We’re running a business here. There’s no room for sentimentality.”
In unison, all three children lower their eyes, sensing a brewing argument. Father’s jaw stiffens, but he somehow manages a smile.
“Ah, my lady,” he says rigidly. “You must have more faith in A-Xian’s business venture. Unprofitable? He’s already been spotted by one of his professors. One day, he will be a great CEO of a flourishing company.”
Mother slams her cup down.
“CEO!” she cries, and laughs. “Jiang Fengmian, don’t forget who your actual heir is. He is here!”
She jabs her finger at Jiang Cheng. He flinches back, hunching down in his seat.
“A-Cheng will be CEO of Jiang Enterprises one day,” she grits out, “and yet, you have not spoken even a word to him since we got here.”
Sucking in a breath, Jiang Cheng closes his eyes. That familiar lump rises again in his throat.
“Now, my lady,” Father soothes, voice strained. “This lunch is to celebrate A-Li’s achievements. Let’s not overshadow it with arguments and strife.”
Finally, he turns to Jiang Cheng, still wearing that pinched smile.
“It’s true that I’ve not spoken nearly enough to you today, have it?” he asks lightly. “That’s unacceptable. Now that you and A-Xian are in university, we see each other so infrequently.” He laughs. “So what about you, son? What have you been up to lately? Last I heard, you were helping your mother with Yu Semiconductors?”
Jiang Cheng startles, surprised to suddenly find himself the topic of conversation.
“Ah. Yes,” he begins.
There’s a moment of silence as he tries to figure out how to make his work sound interesting.
“I—” he eventually starts helplessly, “I’ve just been rotating through the departments, learning how everything works. This week I’m in the loading docks, so I’ve been helping to load boxes onto the trucks to be dispatched.” He pauses, realizing how trivial that sounds, and hastens to add on. “But before this, I was in the factory doing quality control on the goods we were receiving from suppliers.”
He pauses again. That doesn’t sound much better than loading boxes, does it? It sounds like a whole lot of grunt work.
“Ah,” Father says, clearly at a loss of how to respond. “I see.”
Frantically, Jiang Cheng begins to wrack his brain for something, anything important that he’s done, anything that doesn’t sound like mere grunt work. The more he reviews his own progress in his head, however, the emptier he feels in his chest.
It is, he realizes numbly. It is grunt work. He’d been somewhat proud of himself, excited to be learning, to be gaining real life experience in Yu Semiconductors, but the truth is— he hasn't achieved anything important, has he?
Mustering up a look of nonchalance, he turns to Wei Wuxian instead.
“So…” he somehow manages, through the lump in his throat, “the track you’re working on now. You— you said you had problems with the… the tendering?”
It’s a poor attempt at a conversation, but Father immediately perks, turning to Wei Wuxian with a frown.
“Rendering issues?” he asks, concerned. “Is the school using cheap software?” He shakes his head, tutting. “That won’t do. If there’s a better software, you let me know. I’m sure our corporate philanthropy department would be excited to sponsor an upgrade.”
Wei Wuxian begins to shake his head frantically at that, waving his hands just as frantically in rejection.
“No, oh no,” he blurts out. “That’s really not it, Uncle Jiang. I’ve just been experimenting with layering ambient noises together to create a more textured beat, and the file is a lot bigger than usual, that’s all. No need to sponsor an upgrade!”
Father settles back down at that, but clearly looks piqued.
“Now that you haven’t told us about,” he says. “What kind of ambient noises have you been working with?”
Looking somewhat relieved, and somewhat embarrassed, Wei Wuxian begins to fish in his pocket for his phone again.
“Well, it’s more stuff like flickering lights, clashing metal, crunching sand,” he explains. “I’m trying to produce a more kinda… grungy sound. Wait, I think I have the mid-term progress submission on my phone. Have a listen.”
He plays the track.
Jiang Cheng leans in, somewhat relieved, but somewhat bitter. Across from him, Mother watches on with a stormy expression.
In retrospect, two weeks had been extremely short a span of time to get so attached to those puppies. Father had been right to be surprised.
Still, what else could he have done, when he’d had no other companions in his life up till then?
The differences between Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng had been apparent from the start. While Jiang Cheng had always been alone, what with his sour disposition and nasty temper, willing playmates had quickly begun to gravitate helplessly towards Wei Wuxian. The other kids had been quick to follow him into mischief; laughing, watching, and listening eagerly for his every command.
As much as Jiang Cheng hated to admit it, Wei Wuxian had always had that kind of artless charisma to him, effortlessly charming whoever he came into contact with— Father had not been an exception. While he’d never quite approved of Jiang Cheng’s sullen moodiness, he’d opened fully to Wei Wuxian’s cheerful disposition.
And truth be told, why wouldn’t he?
Wei Wuxian had always been magnetic, articulate, larger than life. Wei Wuxian had always been gracious and gentle, kind but endearingly brash. Wei Wuxian had always been everything that Jiang Cheng had never been, and if there was such a thing as fate, then it was apparent from an early age that Wei Wuxian was meant for the glaring lights of vast stages, to command stadiums, to move millions. He was always meant to be the brightest and most brilliant star in the sky.
It would probably have hurt less if it were just a matter of charisma, but even in their studies, Wei Wuxian had always done better with little effort, no matter how hard Jiang Cheng had tried, no matter how hard he had worked. Everything Jiang Cheng had ever thought to try, Wei Wuxian had been effortlessly better at. The discrepancy had been so much so that, eventually, Jiang Cheng had begun seriously worrying that his father would strip him of his birthright, offering it to the son he preferred — to the son who clearly deserved it more.
And so, when Wei Wuxian had dropped out of high school to go into music four years ago, Jiang Cheng had breathed an enormous sigh of relief.
Finally, Wei Wuxian would not be able to challenge his position.
That same year, Jiang Cheng had applied to enter the accelerated program under his high school, completing senior high in two years instead of three, and then applying to the prestigious business program at Tsinghua University in Beijing.
Upon graduation, he had packed up his things, said his goodbyes, and chased Wei Wuxian to Beijing, without ever looking back.
Once they finish their meal, they get back into the limousine. Amidst warm laughter and warm smiles, they begin the drive back to Zhongyang Conversatory to drop Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng off.
Father and Wei Wuxian continue to speak enthusiastically about the tracks Wei Wuxian is working on, and while he had initially been glad for something else to fill the silence, it’s beginning to weigh on Jiang Cheng’s patience.
He wants to talk to Father too .
Ever since they moved away from Wuhan[1], away from home, to faraway Beijing where the people are different and the food is unfamiliar and the accents are strange— he hasn’t often gotten the chance to see Father. Still, the lump in his throat keeps him silent. He does not know what to say to his own father.
And so, he tilts his head back against the headrest, eyes closed, and says nothing at all.
Eventually, they pull up at the conservatory. Beginning to heft his instrument cases up onto his shoulder, Wei Wuxian turns to Jiang Cheng with a smile— half cheeky, half expectant.
“Guess you’ll have to help me carry all this back to the studio,” he teases, and drops a bag in Jiang Cheng’s lap.
On any other day, any other occasion, that gesture would not rankle as much as this.
“Don’t you have hands?” Jiang Cheng finally snaps, shoving the bag back at Wei Wuxian, and grits his teeth. “If you can’t carry all of them, then maybe you shouldn’t have learnt so many goddamn instruments in the first place!”
There’s a moment of shocked silence.
Wei Wuxian’s eyes are wide, hurt, and there’s a moment where all that Jiang Cheng feels is satisfaction, before—
“Jiang Cheng,” Father says coldly.
Suddenly reminded of their onlookers, Jiang Cheng stiffens, going cold.
“Do you know what you’ve done wrong?” Father asks.
Jiang Cheng shrinks, not daring to look his father in the eye. “Yes.”
“I don’t think you do,” Father says. “Jiang Cheng, tell me what the motto of Jiang Enterprises is.”
“Achieving the impossible.”
Father nods slowly.
“And as CEO of Jiang Enterprises, you will one day have to support the people around you to do their very best, to innovate, to achieve the impossible.” He closes his eyes. “If you’re going to be so unwilling to help others, if you’re going to limit their success to what they can achieve by themselves, then how will Jiang Enterprises ever grow beneath your leadership?”
The lump rises again in his throat, growing and growing, until it robs him not just of his words, but his very breath. Seeing him unable to speak for himself, Wei Wuxian steps forward to speak for him instead, eyes frantic.
“He’s just angry,” he tries vainly to convince Father. “He doesn’t mean it.”
But Father shakes his head. For once, his eyes are solely on Jiang Cheng, but there is none of the warmth or pride Jiang Cheng had always hoped for, only a devastating disappointment.
“There are some things that cannot be said even when you’re angry, because to say it shows that you still do not understand what it takes to be CEO of Jiang Enterprises,” he says damningly, and Jiang Cheng lowers his head.
Wei Wuxian opens his mouth again, but is cut off by bitter laughter.
“Oh, but what does it matter as long as Wei Ying understands, right?” Mother cuts in.
Father’s expression immediately smooths out. “My lady, that is not what I meant.”
Mother raises a single sharp eyebrow, eyes as cutting as diamonds.
“Is it not?” she challenges. “Have you forgotten who is your rightful son, your rightful heir?”
Father exhales. “I am only trying to teach him.”
Mother just laughs again, the sound unbearably bitter.
“Jiang Fengmian, you really have some nerve!” she cries. “Teach him?! Then tell me, why do you continually promise resources to Wei Ying, mentor him, grow him, when you haven’t even given your own son a place in any of Jiang Enterprises’ subsidiaries!”
That serene expression finally gives way to irritation. Father opens his mouth, clearly about to argue, but politely closes his mouth as Mother continues so as to avoid interrupting, ever the gentleman. Yet, as Mother continues, Jiang Cheng can’t help but wish he had cut her off.
“Do you know how much face I had to lose asking my parents to take A-Cheng into Yu Semiconductors?!” she demands, jabbing a finger into husband’s chest. “I’m telling you now, Jiang Fengmian, just because you wanted to marry Cangse and gallivant around the world with her as a musical duo, just because you never wanted to marry me, just because A-Cheng is the child that I bore and not Cangse— doesn’t mean that you should dislike him, that you should scorn him like this! He is still the heir to Jiang Enterprises!”
“I am not—”
But Mother continues, undeterred.
“Do you know what people are saying about this whole thing?! They are saying that even after all these years, President Jiang still holds feelings for a certain travelling musician, regarding her son so much as his own that they have even begun to speculate that he is your—”
She stops there, seemingly unable to complete the sentence. Finally, Father snaps.
“Yu Ziyuan!”
Jiang Cheng can only sit there in shock as they begin to shout.
After several moments, he manages to come slightly to his senses. Numb, he pulls the strap of his bag over his shoulder, opens the door, and gets out of the limousine.
They do not even seem to notice him walking away.
Mother and Father had never gotten along, not before they were married, not after they married, and certainly not after they’d had Jiang Cheng and his sister. Even as a toddler, he could remember them getting into screaming matches about Jiang Enterprises, about him and his sister, about everything under the sun.
It had been an open secret that they had married for political reasons. There was no other reason for them to have met or fallen in love. From the beginning, his father had been a musician; gentle, sentimental, and kind. His mother, on the other hand, had been the gifted third daughter of distinguished business owners; calculating, cut-throat, and with an enviable flair for business. When their parents had arranged for the two to be married, it had been purely political, with the expectation that Mother would one day be the brains behind Jiang Enterprises.
Still, as a child, Jiang Cheng had always believed that they loved each other in their own way.
Shortly after Wei Wuxian had been adopted, Father had quietly acquired Wei Records from Wen Corporation. The rival conglomerate had come into possession of Wei Records after Wei Wuxian’s parents had passed, and once he had found out, Father had been unable to let it stand. Knowing that his wife would object, he had gone about the acquisition in secret. Mother had only found out during the general meeting.
That night, dinner had been unusually silent. The shouting had only begun afterwards, after Mother and Father had retired to the master bedroom.
The three children had all laid in their beds, listening to the couple screaming the house down for hours, and hours, and hours, late into the night. It had seemed like it would never end, until Mother’s voice had eventually grown hoarse, and then broken into silence.
Finally, after hours of screaming, Jiang Cheng had heard the door slam, had heard the sharp furious footsteps coming past his bedroom.
Hopping out of bed and rushing to the door, he had opened it to see his mother striding away from the master bedroom, towards the guest bedroom at the opposite side of the manor. Even then, she had already been spending many more nights there than in the master bedroom.
“Ma?” he’d whispered.
She had stopped, and turned slowly to him. There had been tears running down her face, leaving faint trails of black, her face frighteningly gaunt in the shadows. Suddenly, she had bent down— and scooped him up against her chest.
He had been shocked. She had never been an affectionate mother. Even as a baby, she had never quite wanted to touch him, quickly handing him off to an ahma to be taken care of.
I never wanted you, she had told him once, but I loved you the moment I saw you.
Right then, however, she had been holding him like she’d never held him before, and he’d gone stiff and quiet, not quite daring to speak or move for fear of breaking the moment. Still rocking him gently, preciously, she had gone into his room and set him on the bed, kneeling down before him to look him in the eye.
“If one day we had to leave this place,” she had asked, “what would you think of that?”
At only five years of age, the idea had been beyond comprehension.
“But—” he’d begun, confusedly. “But why would we ever need to leave?”
“Sometimes, it’s impossible for two people to get along. I don’t think your father and I can ever be happy together.”
That blunt answer had only deepened Jiang Cheng’s confusion, and his growing sense of distress. Despite himself, tears had begun to fall down his face.
“But why?” he’d hiccuped. “I don’t understand. Don’t you— Don’t you love each other?”
And Mother had laughed, loud, and long, and bitter.
“No,” she had said— and Jiang Cheng’s world had fallen away.
It had always seemed like Mother knew that she wasn’t the bride that Father wanted. The fact that her son wasn’t the son he wanted either had seemed like yet another sore point for her, a hurt that only been exacerbated by Wei Wuxian’s arrival.
From an early age, Wei Wuxian had begun to show an innate gift for music. Put an instrument in his hand, and within an hour, he would have figured out how to play a simple song. He had taken to music like a fish to water, and Father had been so very proud.
Jiang Cheng, on the other hand, had never been particularly good at music. Instruments just never seemed to respond to his touch the way they did to Wei Wuxian’s. True, he recalled learning the piano as a child, while Wei Wuxian had steadily made his way through the violin, the flute, the guitar. But he had dropped it once Wei Wuxian had started learning the piano too, after he had blazed past Jiang Cheng’s two years of progress within two weeks.
What was the point anyway? Wei Wuxian would always be better than him in music, so he never saw the point of even trying to compete with him. He’d known, from a young age, that if Wei Wuxian had been meant for vast stages, for colossal stadiums— then Jiang Cheng was meant only for the wings, jealously watching Wei Wuxian’s back from the shadows. He had thus thrown himself wholeheartedly into pursuits relevant to business, determined to carve out his own niche in this world.
Not that Wei Wuxian had not been effortlessly better at him in that too.
And so, four years ago, when Wei Wuxian had first announced his retreat into the world of music, Jiang Cheng had begun to hope for the first time since he had been a boy, that he would finally be able to rise up in his father’s regard.
Foolish.
It had quickly become clear to him that his own blossoming aptitude for business would never be enough for his father. Not when compared against Wei Wuxian’s artistic genius.
Why would it, when his father had never wanted to be involved in business in the first place? After all, his father’s true wish had been to travel the world, making music.
Growing up, Jiang Cheng still recalled how his father had attended every single one of Wei Wuxian’s recitals, paid for countless hours of classes and the best teachers money could buy, gifted him with expensive instruments, expensive sound mixing software, expensive recording equipment, watching him flourish with a strange sense of vicarious relish. Every new instrument, every first song, every recital, he had sucked it all up with eager eyes, much like how Jiang Cheng imagined a father would watch a son’s first words, first steps, first day of school. Even now, he showered whatever resources available to him on Wei Wuxian, encouraging his business ventures, and supporting his musical career.
Jiang Cheng, on the other hand, had never been the subject of that delighted gaze.
By now, he’s spent what feels like his whole life chasing Wei Wuxian. For years and years, he’s chased the numbers on Wei Wuxian’s returned examination scripts, chased the letter grades, the class rankings. After Wei Wuxian had left to begin university early, Jiang Cheng had completed senior high in two years instead of three, rushing off to join Wei Wuxian in Beijing. He’d begun university a year earlier than all his peers, but Wei Wuxian had already been two years into his degree program. He’d applied to take a double courseload, hoping to catch up to Wei Wuxian by completing his program in three years. Now, in their last year of university, he and Wei Wuxian are finally set to graduate at the same time.
Yet, just as he’d been beginning to think he’d finally caught up, he’s come to a sober realization.
Wei Wuxian has effectively been made CEO of Wei Records. Even A-Jie has been given a place in Jiang Hospitality. Meanwhile, as Jiang Cheng now realizes, he has been shunned completely from the business he was meant to inherit. He can only feel an endless bitterness at the thought, an endless despair.
Growing up, he’d always feared that he would one day be stripped of his birthright, that it would one day be taken from him and given to the preferred son, the more deserving son.
Now, without him ever noticing— that fear seems to have come to pass.
Wei Wuxian catches up with him, panting desperately, and still lugging all his bags.
“Jiang Cheng!” he cries. “Wait— Jiang Cheng!”
Jiang Cheng ignores him, striding determinedly towards the lecture building, where their chauffeur is waiting to drive him back to Tsinghua. Eventually, almost wheezing, Wei Wuxian drops his bags — instruments, recording equipment, and all — in an effort to keep up. As he manages to draw even with Jiang Cheng, he reaches out, yanking him to a halt.
“Jiang Cheng, you stop right there!” he cries desperately. “Are you looking for a fight?!”
Jiang Cheng does not look at him.
“Go back and pick up your instruments,” he says coldly.
“No!” Wei Wuxian bursts out, frustrated. “We need to get things straight first! You— Don’t you listen to all those messed up rumors!”
“Messed-up rumors,” Jiang Cheng repeats flatly.
“Yes,” Wei Wuxian agrees stubbornly, still panting. “Those— those rumors that only dirty your mouth to say them.”
Frustration and resentment blooms inside Jiang Cheng. Clenching his jaw, he turns to leave before he can say anything he regrets, but Wei Wuxian grabs him, yanking him back into place.
“Jiang Cheng, please,” he pleads. “Let’s not hide any grievances in our hearts. We must be truthful with one another.”
Jiang Cheng closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath.
“Let go,” he manages, somewhat calmly.
“No, we need to get things straight,” Wei Wuxian protests. “Jiang Cheng, you are Uncle Jiang’s own son, his own flesh and blood , and the heir to Jiang Enterprises to boot. Of course he would be stricter towards you. He’s your father. But me? I’m just the son of his two good friends. That’s why he’s more lenient with me. He’s just my goofy, doting uncle.”
Jiang Cheng shrugs his hands off, and continues to walk. Huffing out an exasperated breath, Wei Wuxian jogs after him.
“Jiang Cheng, please!” he calls. “Let’s talk about this!”
“What’s there to talk about?” Jiang Cheng bites out harshly. “He’s not being strict. He just dislikes me. He never liked my mom, and so, he’s never liked me either. Stop following me.”
Wei Wuxian does not heed him.
“Don’t listen to ridiculous rumors!” he yells, matching Jiang Cheng stride for stride. “How can there be anyone who doesn’t like their own child?! Stop running and fucking face me!”
Finally, Jiang Cheng stops, right by the bustling stretch of grass leading up towards the lecture hall. Not expecting him to actually stop, Wei Wuxian runs into his back. Jiang Cheng turns around slowly to face him.
“I am giving you a final warning,” he says through gritted teeth. “Stop following me, or I will not hold back.”
He doesn’t know why on earth he’d thought that would deter Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian has never been the sort to be cowed by threats or intimidation. No matter Jiang Cheng’s sour disposition, his biting words, his explosive rages— Wei Wuxian has never once shied away from him. Even now, he just straightens, lifting his chin.
“Then don’t hold back,” he says. “Shout at me. Hit me. Get it all off your chest! I don’t mind! As long as you feel better!”
Finally, Jiang Cheng’s irritation overflows. He shoves Wei Wuxian as hard as he can.
“Yes!” he bellows. “Because you’re so fucking perfect, aren’t you?!” He shoves Wei Wuxian again. “You’re so sacrificing! And talented! And charismatic!”
With every sentence, he shoves Wei Wuxian, but Wei Wuxian just allows himself to be pushed— and it’s only making Jiang Cheng angrier. The students around them have begun to point and whisper. Still, he can’t bring himself to give a shit.
“You’re better than me at everything!” he shouts, voice only raising in volume. “Always giving without expecting anything in return. You’re on a different level from me, aren’t you?!” He throws his head back and laughs. “No, I’m just an angry, selfish person. I’m talentless. I’m stupid. I don’t help others unless there’s something in it for me.”
Finally, it seems Wei Wuxian can no longer keep his ever-chattering mouth shut.
“Jiang Cheng, that’s not true,” he says.
“I don’t need your fucking pity!” Jiang Cheng hollers. “You’re the better leader! You’d make a better CEO! Of course Dad has always liked you better! Of course he’s never liked me! I’m just a dark spot inside the golden aura of your fucking perfection!”
With the last sentence, Jiang Cheng grabs Wei Wuxian by the collar and shakes him. Wei Wuxian does not fight back, only shakes his head soundlessly, and god, how that martyr’s aura of his makes Jiang Cheng boil . Jiang Cheng shakes him again, harder this time.
“Fight. Back,” he grits out.
Wei Wuxian stumbles, grabbing the front of Jiang Cheng’s shirt to steady himself. Still, his expression remains determined. “No.”
This time, Jiang Cheng shoves him so hard that he actually falls back. Unfortunately, his hands are still fisted in Jiang Cheng’s shirt, so he brings Jiang Cheng down with him. They hit the grass in a tangle of limbs. There are alarmed calls from the students around them.
“What’s happening?”
“I don’t know! A fight broke out between two students!”
Winded, Jiang Cheng struggles slowly upright, coming to straddle Wei Wuxian in the grass. Stupidly, however, Wei Wuxian is supporting him up with a hand on his shoulder, eyes concerned, and that only heightens the rage.
“Fight! Back!” he screams, bringing his fists down onto Wei Wuxian’s chest.
Wei Wuxian’s breath whooshes out of him. He’s wincing now, panting, but he just licks his lips and says, “No. Not until you’re satisfied.”
Jiang Cheng loses it.
Letting out a wordless scream of frustration, he begins hitting Wei Wuxian’s chest with his palms.
“Fucking fight me, you bastard! Hit me! What is wrong with you?! You’ve never had a problem fighting back before now, so fucking fight me!”
Suddenly, he is dragged off Wei Wuxian. There are two large guys in matching gym tanks and joggers standing behind him. By the fucking Buddha, gym tanks and joggers in the middle of central Beijing?! How fucking sloppy.
“Get the fuck off me,” he grits out.
“Hey, chill man,” says Gym Rat 1, the one still holding him by the back of his shirt. “Why are you hitting him?”
Wei Wuxian sits up, wincing. A muttering crowd has begun to form around them, shaking their heads at Jiang Cheng, and offering Wei Wuxian sympathetic glances.
Of course, once more, Jiang Cheng is the disagreeable one, the dislikeable one.
“Let him go,” Wei Wuxian says, still breathless.
“But he was hitting you, man.”
Clearly growing irritated, Wei Wuxian shrugs his shoulder away from Gym Rat 2, who has begun trying to pull him up, and stands by himself.
“He’s my brother,” he says stubbornly, and reaches out for Jiang Cheng.
Jiang Cheng shoves him away.
“Brother?!” he repeats incredulously. “Ha! If you still consider me your brother, then come here and fight me!”
He tries to grab Wei Wuxian again, but Gym Rat 1 holds him at bay. The mutters from the crowd only grow. Around him, people are reaching out sympathetically to pull Wei Wuxian away from him. There are a number also coming forward to restrain Jiang Cheng.
Of course , once more, Jiang Cheng is the bad guy.
Of course, once more, he’s the dark spot in Wei Wuxian’s golden aura of heroism.
He cannot take it for a moment longer.
“Wei Wuxian!” he howls, “Don’t you pull this martyr bullshit on me! What do you mean until I’m satisfied?! I’ll never be satisfied! I’ll never be fucking satisfied and it’s because of you!”
“Yo man, chill for a second—”
He lunges for Wei Wuxian again, but is again thwarted by Gym Rat 1.
“Fucking fight me!” he screams around the man holding him back. “You coward! Bastard! Come here and hit me! Come and fucking hit me! You think you’re too good for this, don’t you?!” He throws his head back and laughs hysterically. “Well, fuck you! Yes! All hail the benevolent one, the martyred one, the victimized hero! Yes, I’m always the fucking bad guy! I’m always the unreasonable one! Yes! I’m selfish! I’m angry! I’m violent! I’m—”
And finally, Wei Wuxian snaps.
“Oh, will you fucking can it?!” he shouts, and— and decks Jiang Cheng.
Not expecting that Wei Wuxian would actually hit him, Jiang Cheng stumbles back and lands on the floor. He sits there for a moment in shock, as the crowd goes silent, just as shocked.
Shoving off all the hands on his shoulders, Wei Wuxian strides forward, jabbing a finger furiously at him.
“Have you ever thought that maybe the reason why people don’t follow you is not for a lack of capability or charisma?” he demands. “The reason why people don’t follow you is because you’re always so goddamn insecure!”
Jiang Cheng’s mouth drops open.
“How fucking dare—” he splutters, stunned.
“No, you shut your fucking mouth, and just listen to me for once,” Wei Wuxian snaps. He fists his hands in his hair. “Jiang Cheng,” he begins, looking like he’s about to tear his own hair out both in sheer exasperation, and in a strange despair. “If you never learn to believe in yourself, if you never learn to put yourself out there— then how will anyone ever know what you’re truly capable of?!”
For a moment, he just sits there in shock, staring up at Wei Wuxian. Before he can break out of his daze to really give Wei Wuxian a piece of his mind, however, there comes the sound of pattering feet. The crowd gives way as a tall man squeezes through, followed by a crew of persons in black, all carrying boom mikes and cameras.
“I, uh, apologize for the interruption,” the man cuts in, a little breathless, “but— by any chance, could someone tell me who was it that was shouting just now?”
A moment of silence. Then, in unison, the crowd points to Jiang Cheng.
The man finally looks down at him. He is— extremely good-looking, with warm brown eyes, and a benevolent smile that only widens at the sight of Jiang Cheng. Jiang Cheng has absolutely no idea what he’s done to deserve such a look of delight; disheveled, angry, and scowling as he is.
Suddenly, there’s a flurry of movement. The crowd is expertly shoved back by the crew. Boom mikes dip down towards him, and every single cameraperson turns the camera abruptly to face him, some filming from above, one woman even crouching in front of him to push the camera right in his face. The handsome man crouches down as well, eyes bright and fixed unwaveringly on Jiang Cheng.
“Ah, hello, hello!” he cries, reaching down to shake Jiang Cheng’s hand so vigorously that Jiang Cheng feels vaguely like his arm is about to be pulled out of its socket. “I am Lan Xichen, the host of the All-Stars Lan Talent Hunt! We could not help but hear you from the other side of campus—”
“No shit,” Gym Rat 1 mutters, and Gym Rat 2 elbows him, hard. “Ow!”
“—and were drawn here by the special quality of your voice! Please, good sir, may I know your name?”
Jiang Cheng flinches back as the host, Lan Xichen, shoves a microphone in his face. His smile is very bright, and his teeth very white, and his face very dazzling. He’s the kind of devastatingly good-looking that’s a little hard to visually process, and so, Jiang Cheng certainly can’t be blamed for his inelegant response.
“Err,” he says, a little dumbly, “Jiang Cheng.”
Lan Xichen straightens back up with a gasp.
“Er Jiangcheng!” he cries, and turns to beam into the cameras with all the force of ten thousand glorious suns. “Remember the name, everyone! I see a bright future ahead for this young man!”
He turns back to Jiang Cheng.
“Mister Er, on behalf of the talent hunt team, I would like to invite you to participate in the All-Stars Lan Talent Hunt!” he announces, and then crowds in eagerly. “What do you say, Mister Er? We could make you a star!”
Jiang Cheng just stares for a good few moments. Then, absolutely bewildered, he turns and meets Wei Wuxian’s eyes through the crowd. Wei Wuxian has been shunted to the side — for the first time, Jiang Cheng realizes suddenly — and is now trying to catch Jiang Cheng’s gaze with wide, panicked eyes.
For the first time, Jiang Cheng is the center of attention. For the first time, someone has chosen him over Wei Wuxian. For the first time in their whole lives, it is Wei Wuxian who is experiencing what it’s like to be passed over, to be second best.
Jiang Cheng turns to Lan Xichen with a vicious, slightly manic grin.