Work Text:
Blind date: a social engagement between two people who have not previously met, usually arranged by a mutual acquaintance.
-
“Can you excuse me for a minute,” Nie Mingjue says pleasantly, and without waiting for an answer, he calmly excuses himself from his date. He calmly walks to the men’s bathroom, calmly double checks to make sure that he is completely alone, calmly locks the door, and then, just to be completely sure of total privacy, he calmly locks himself in the farthest stall and calmly, calmly sits on the toilet seat.
He takes deep, measured breaths as he unlocks his phone and switches to the keypad, remembers his therapist telling him that shutting out visual stimuli helps promote inner peace and clarity during meditative breathing, and so he closes his eyes even as his fingers fly through a familiar sequence of numbers.
He is still very zen.
The phone rings once, twice, and then -
Click
“You set me up with a serial killer!” Nie Mingjue hisses as soon as he hears it pick up, barreling over whatever his brother has to say. His grip on the phone is so tight that it creaks. “You set me up with someone who yells at the valet and does not tip the waiter. I would not be surprised if he eats babies in his spare time and sets fire to the elderly to keep himself warm! And he’s the son of the man that I severed business with not three weeks ago? Our deceased father’s business partner? Really??? If I get murdered and dismembered tonight - and I could, A-sang, do you hear me? I could, because their family is probably not above murdering and dismembering and his father is still baying for my blood - I will come back as a fierce ghost and spend the rest of my miserable afterlife haunting you!”
The silence after his tirade lasts long enough that Nie Mingjue rips the phone away from his ear to frown at it. Was his brother ignoring him?
“HUIASA - ”
“Hello?”
Nie Mingjue stops.
“Ah, this man truly sounds like a terrible person,” the voice continues over the phone. The voice that is most assuredly not his brother’s.
“Excuse me? Who is this?” Nie Mingjue demands. He was expecting his brother to reply with something along the lines of ‘Ah, but Da-Ge! I didn’t know he was a serial killer! I just wanted you to find love!” or, if Huiasang feels like being cheeky, something like “I knew he was a serial killer, Da-Ge, but I believe in change! And you! Also my spiderweb of spies says he is very good in bed and you need to let your stress out before you kill all our interns!”
Nie Mingjue may have failed to consider a third option, and so he snaps: “You know that if you had the gall to kidnap my brother you’ll die, right?”
A light laugh. “Definitely not your brother or your brother’s kidnapper,” the voice says, “I think you dialled the wrong number.” It’s a man’s voice, smooth and musical. Nie Mingjue would have found it pleasing to the ears if he weren’t busy processing, with slowly dawning horror, that he may have, in fact, just yelled and threatened a complete stranger. “Would you like me to repeat…?”
The man trails off, and Nie Mingjue wants to curl up and die. As it stands, he just hunches over and buries his face in his hands. “Please,” he says instead through gritted teeth. He is never doing meditative breathing again.
He listens as the other man recites his phone number, his tone tilting upwards at the end in a question. Sure enough, the last number is different.
"Fuck," Nie Mingjue sighs, "So I did.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I apologize. Let me just - ”
“But do you need help exiting, ah, gracefully?’ the stranger asks. “You can keep me on the line, pretend you’re being called by someone important,” there’s a brief pause, before he also offers: “Or I have your number now. I can call you when you’re back on the table, make a show of having an emergency?”
Nie Mingjue blinks, momentarily thrown from his embarrassment. “Thank you. That is,” he searches for the right word. “... excessively supportive of you, I think. You don’t even know me.”
“I’ve had experience,” is the reply, the faintest hint of dry humor coloring his tone. “Until recently, my brother’s been in the same situation as you.” Fondness colors his voice, and Nie Mingjue finds himself relaxing despite everything, especially when the stranger adds, “Also, you just told me your date may be a serial killer. It would be on my conscience if something actually happens to you.”
Nie Mingjue snorts at that. “Ugh, fine. Maybe he’s not a serial killer. He’s just - ” he pauses, thinks about Wen Xu’s extremely irritating face. The way he talked to their server, patronizing and borderline rude. The way he talked about the other people present in this hideously expensive restaurant, from their appearance to their speculated private lives. The stories he likes to tell about himself, chockfull of ego.
“Yeah, no, he probably is,” Nie Mingue says decisively, and he hears the other man laugh. “No, really! Listen,” he insists, leaning forward on his knees. “As an example: he’s been boasting about his trades and contracts and deals since the start of dinner, and if I’m reading it right most of it is because he personally ordered the elimination of his competitors and now he is subtly offering to do the same for me.”
“Elimination?”
“I don’t know what the hell he means by ‘elimination’ and at this point I don’t want to ask. I ordered the head of my security to do a more thorough background check, just to be sure, and if she finds anything the first one who will know will be my meddling brother, who I will disown.”
Soft laughter again. “Does this happen a lot? The match-making, I mean?”
“This is the first,” Nie Mingjue admits, and then he scowls. “And the last, if I have anything to say about it! There is talk in the family of an arranged marriage. I honestly do not mind, but my brother disagrees. He thinks I should at least have a say on who I marry, so he’s taken it upon himself to let me meet as many people as he can blackmail. Or maybe bribe, I don’t know! I gave in after months of his wheedling. I will get no peace otherwise.”
“Sounds like he cares about you,” the stranger offers. “He just wants you to be happy, I think.”
“I am happy!”
He gets a non-committal noise instead. “Happy or busy?”
“Busy means business is doing well. If the business is doing well, then I am happy,” Nie Mingjue says, and he gives in to the ridiculous urge to defend his life choices to a literal stranger and adds, “I am happy, because it means I am succeeding in taking care of my family’s legacy. And that is a win for my brother too, you know. He’s next in line, but he doesn’t want to be in the company, the company which I am now in charge of. If I fail, he will be the head. He wants to study art, travel the world. He won’t be able to do any of that, do you see? He will have no choice.”
“I see." There is a pause, and then: “It sounds like you just want him to be happy as well.”
“He is very annoying and obnoxious!” Nie Mingjue says. It may have been a little too loud, but there had been something soft in the man's tone and it had pushed Nie Mingjue off-balance, leaving him scrambling for equilibrium. “Especially now. He’s been insufferably smug about helping two of his friends get together after eight hundred years of pining. I keep telling him the inevitable doesn’t count. I’ve seen those two together once and the tension makes me want to stab myself in the eye. But no! He’s got it in his head that he’s the god of love and the next unfortunate target of his arrow is me! Did you know he set a casino on fire from that? In the name of matchmaking? Why is he proud?”
The stranger has been laughing since midway through his rant, which has done nothing but encourage Nie Mingjue to vent out his frustrations. At least his shitty day is making someone marginally happier. And also, he will take it to his grave but there is something inexplicably likeable about the way he laughs, something confusing but admirable in the way he easily went with Nie Mingjue’s mistargeted fire and then gracefully put it out, and Nie Mingjue is suddenly very glad that out of all the people he could have accidentally called he wound up with this one.
He stops and feels a surge of guilt, because he may be inadvertently putting his brother in a bad light, which: that is not his intention. Whoever this man is, he must be - at the very least - not a horrible person like Wen Xu, and Nie Mingjue doesn't want any decent person thinking that his brother isn't one too. Even when he does often drive Nie Mingjue up the goddamn wall. And so he quickly amends: “Okay, my brother can be proud. It was just a little fire, nobody died, and he ended a corrupt politician’s career at the same time. It was a win-win situation all around.”
The man, however, abruptly stops laughing. There’s a sharp intake of breath, and he starts to say, “Wait, is the politician - ” but it’s interrupted by a loud banging and clanging from outside the bathroom.
It jerks Nie Mingjue out of the conversation, and he just now realizes that he’s been here for far too long. He stands up, swearing under his breath. He is too early in his leadership. He cannot offend the Wens, not like this. He doesn’t want them as partners in anything, not in the ventures of the company he inherited after his father’s sudden death nor in his personal and private life. He’d turned them down as diplomatically as he could for the first. He must do the same to the second.
He’s about to say goodbye, to apologize - apologize, because despite himself he actually liked talking to this man - when there’s a crash, and the yelling starts soon after. There is the sound of breaking glass.
“Huh,” Nie Mingue says, just as he hears the unmistakable sounds of a police siren. He steps out of the stall. The noise is louder now, and through the slit of the bathroom’s only window, he sees flashing red and blue lights.
“Hello?” the voice over the phone is now hesitant, concerned and serious. He must be hearing everything, too. “Is everything alright?”
“You know what - ” Nie Mingjue starts, and then the bathroom doors explode.
-
It is some time later, and the five-star restaurant has been emptied of employees and customers and replaced with officers rushing in and out of the double doors. A barricade tape surrounds it, and there are police scars scattered everywhere. There’s also an ambulance or two, which is fortunate because when the authorities had barged in Wen Xu apparently tried to run and threw a fucking smoke bomb for distraction. No serious injuries, Nie Mingjue had been told, only shallow cuts and bruises from the initial stampede towards the exit, but the rapid deterioration of events left more than enough people with a need for shock blankets.
He kind of wants one for himself, admittedly, but mostly for the selfish reason of wanting something to strangle because -
“So he was a serial killer?” Nie Mingjue asks, a little incredulously. He had been joking.
The police officer twitches. She looks twelve and like a stiff wind would blow her across the ocean. Even when Nie Mingjue’s sitting on one of the tables outside the restaurant, he towers over her like a tree. She’s putting on a passably convincing front. If not for the sweat on her temple and the fact that her colleagues are blatantly watching from behind one of the police cars (she probably lost a bet, he thinks), he’d have thought she wasn’t scared of him.
Nie Mingjue knows what he looks like, so despite the fact that he’s cranky and tired from being poked and prodded and asked the same six hundred questions by around fifty different people, he makes an effort to look less imposing and gentles his tone as he says, “I’m sorry, I’m not angry at you. I’m just. Surprised.” And then, fuck it, it’s not like he’s lying: “I suspected. He has a very punchable face.”
That gets a laugh out of her. “Well, I mean, probably not - directly?” the police officer says, a little more relaxed. She gestures at the scene behind her, where Wen Xu is now being frog marched directly to an awaiting police car, yelling about lawyers and death and injustice. “We’ve been after the Wens for years but can never pin them down until, well, now. An anonymous tip came through that blew open an underground black market. Some deep web stuff. Like, things that you can’t bust through the legal channels in less than a decade, you know? And it was dumped in our laps in the space of a night.”
“I see,” Nie Mingjue says neutrally.
“But! We’re all very relieved that we found you on time, Chifeng-zun,” she says earnestly. “Wen Industries has proven themselves unscrupulous, and you’re one of their top competitors. Who knows what could have happened? You could have been kidnapped, or beaten up and then kidnapped, or Wen Zu could have - ” the officer stops, as if remembering once again that said Chifeng-zun is basically twice her width and height, and pales, hastily saying,“Not - not that I’m implying you can’t handle yourself! I mean, you look like, you know - that - and that needs more than Wen Xu to - ” She clams up then, looking like she wants the ground to swallow her whole, and frankly at this point Nie Mingjue kind of wants to die too.
“Alright, that’s enough,” a wry voice cuts in. “Go help your team, Officer Yue, before you put your whole leg in your mouth.”
“Captain!” Officer Yue scrambles to a grateful salute, and after a red-faced bow to both of them she beats a hasty retreat back to her colleagues.
“Ah, Chifeng-zun, still terrifyingly handsome, I see!” Luo Qingyang says cheerfully, ignoring the dour look he sends her way. She gives him a jaunty salute as she approaches. “You look so dashing even in the face of an almost kidnapping!”
“I heard Wen Xu screaming about feeding you and your department to his pet tigers, Captain Luo Qingyang,” Nie Mingjue tells his old friend. “You look suspiciously happy for someone under threat of being mauled and eaten.”
“Awesome. I love cats,” Luo Qingyang says without missing a beat, and Nie Mingjue snorts. That earns him a brief, beaming smile before she settles down and says, much more professionally, “Alright, Chifeng-zun, I won't beat around the bush anymore. First things first: we checked your phone and we are reasonably sure it’s not being used to track or eavesdrop on you. Here, you can have it back now,” and she hands it over in a clear ziploc bag. He takes it gingerly with a nod of thanks, and she continues, “Second: so I have good news and bad news.”
Nie Mingjue gives a small sigh and braces himself. “Okay, hit me.”
“So the good news is that you’re free to go. You’re healthy, uninjured, and you’ve cooperated beautifully with us and answered all my cute little interns’ questions without making them cry,” Luo Qingyang says, smirking when he shoots her a flat look.
Nie Mingjue moves to stand up, but then she holds up a hand, and he feels dread swoop low in his stomach. “The bad news, I’m afraid,” she says, “Is that we have to take your car to the lab. It’s too high-tech, so we need more advanced machines than what we have on-site to give it a more thorough examination. Gotta make sure there’s no tracking devices and the like, you know? Just to be safe.”
Nie Mingjue scowls. “This is the first time I ever met the man. What kind of vendetta would he have against me to warrant that kind of behavior?”
“You sure it’s a vendetta?” Luo Qingyang raises an eyebrow. “Because from what we’ve gathered so far, the jury's still split between that or a raging crush.” It’s her turn to snort when she sees the look on his face, but she continues, “So, yes, definitely no to using that car for now. And, you know, we’d normally offer a ride to wherever you prefer to stay, but,” she grins, “The anonymous tipper very much insisted he’ll take care of it.”
“Anonymous,” Nie Mingjue repeats dryly.
She shrugs, amused. “What can I say? He didn’t want to take credit. His only request is that I make sure you’re safe.”
“Safe? From Wen Xu?”
Luo Qingyang laughs at his offended tone but lets it slide. Instead, she tucks her coat closer to her body and jerks her head to the scene behind her. “So I’ll be taking my leave now, Chifeng-zun. There's still things to do here and I have to coordinate with Captain Song Lan from the ninety-ninth precinct to get a better scope of the Wens' activities." She nods towards his phone, a knowing look on her face. “You, on the other hand, should call my anonymous little helper. I’m sure he’s very stressed right now. I’ll leave it up to you guys to discuss the details of how you’ll get home.”
As if on cue, her radio crackles to life then, so they exchange quick goodbyes and Luo Qingyang jogs away. Nie Mingjue watches her for a moment, just basking in the silence after an hour of non-stop questioning, and lets the tension from a spectacularly shitty day wash away from his shoulder in increments.
I‘m sure he’s very stressed right now.
Nie Mingjue has to huff, torn between indignation and amusement. He brings out his phone and mutters, “Who is the elder brother here?” but it’s without heat.
The phone rings once, twice, and then -
“Da-ge! Da-ge!” And, yes, it’s definitely Nie Huiasang on the other side, frantic with worry. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Nie Mingjue says gruffly, and he feels the last of the tension seep out of him at his brother’s voice. The Wens are going down, Nie Huiasang is safely out of the country while this whole clusterfuck is at its peak, and in a few minutes Nie Mingjue himself can leave and get a good night’s sleep, and so he feels relaxed enough to say, in the blandest of tones he rarely ever uses: “You set me up with a serial killer.”
“I didn’t!” Nie Huiasang practically wails, immediate and predictable and so, so familiar. “I didn't know it was him! It’s not supposed to be him! I only knew because Nie Feng did that background check you asked for and kept running into these nasty firewalls she couldn’t break so she called me for help and I did and - ”
“Breathe, A-sang.”
“I will not breathe,” Nie Huiasang hisses, and as Nie Mingjue rolls his eyes and settles back to listen, his brother continues “- so I did and I freaked out because I definitely did not pick Wen Xu! Why would I pick Wen Xu?! He was an asshole to me and his father’s an asshole to y - "
Nie Mingjue frowns and sits straighter, some of his tension returning. “When was he an asshole to you?”
“Not the point, Da-Ge,” Nie Huiasang says, exasperated. “The point is that he had someone tamper with the files I sent your security team. He obviously wants to meet you so freakishly bad, and after we discovered what’s beyond the firewalls that’s not! Comforting! At all!”
Normally, if it had been anyone else, Nie Mingjue would maybe acknowledge the sheer effort they gave to speak to him. He appreciates tenacity. As it stands, it’s Wen Ruohan’s son, so right now he’s just really very offended that the man thought they’re even remotely on the same wavelength, let alone compatible enough to date.
Nie Huisang huffs, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I told you a totally different name, Da-Ge! Back when I first told you about this, remember? It was the day I left for the art exhibit here in Lanling. You obviously didn’t listen to me!”
Nie Mingjue winces. In his defence, he usually does make it a point to listen. It had just been exceptionally bad timing, that’s all. On that day, he’d been busy dealing with the dissolution of the disastrous Wen partnership, elbow deep in paperwork and calls. He remembers nodding and humming automatically as Nie Huiasang ran into his office, chattering excitedly and flailing his fan around. He remembers briefly coming alive to grunt in acknowledgement as his brother hugged him goodbye. He also remembers promptly sinking back to his miasma of rage once he was alone again, brainstorming the most diplomatic way to tell Wen Ruohan through beautifully handwritten calligraphy to go fuck himself.
It only occurred to him that he probably should have probed more only a few hours ago, when he walked into the restaurant and saw Wen Xu’s smarmy face. By then, it would have been dishonorable to cancel, and he’d still believed his brother had been behind this blind date, so he’d held on to the dubious hope that maybe Nie Huiasang found something worthwhile in the firstborn son that Nie Mingjue absolutely did not see in the father.
And, well. That hope obviously did not come true.
He is never going to admit that he didn’t listen, though. His brother will hold it against him forever.
“I trusted my brother’s instincts,” Nie Mingjue says instead, solemn as the stars. “I have always considered him with the highest regard. I thought to myself, ‘Never will my brother lead me astray - ”
“Okay, yeah, that is a super low blow, wow,” Huiasang informs him, and Nie Mingjue finally lets out a sharp, short laugh at that.
“You make it very easy,” Nie Mingjue says easily, but he gives his brother a break and finally drops the teasing. “I really am alright, A-sang,” he says, much more firmly. “Are you okay?”
“Brought down a criminal empire, didn’t I?” Nie Huiasang shoots back, and the blatant cheek in it makes it very hard for Nie Mingjue to suppress a smile, exasperation and fondness blooming bright and fast for this brat.
And as if to demonstrate how fine he is, Nie Huaisang moves swiftly to the next topic, discarding his haughty tone and switching to something more upbeat. “But I have good news, Da-Ge!” he says, and that should have been the first warning, really. “So you know that guy I originally set you up with? The one that’s not Wen Xu? Well! He’s agreed to pick you up when I told him about your car issues - ”
Nie Mingjue blinks. “What?”
“ - and also offered his spare bedroom for you to stay the night. Although he says only if it’s alright with you! Please say it’s alright! You have to stay with him, Da-Ge, he’s a really great guy and it would make me less worried if you’re with someone I trust right now - ”
“What guy?” Nie Mingjue demands, shooting up from his seat. All the stress and then some has returned to his whole body. “What do you mean? A-sang!”
“You can’t stay in your stupidly huge apartment,” Nie Huiasang says matter-of-factly, and Nie Mingjue kind of wants to strangle him now, brotherly love be damned. “The police are still tracking down all the people involved in the Wens’ shady activities. You are literally the last person seen with Wen Xu. What if their loyal goons want revenge? What if you get attacked in your apartment? What if someone is waiting for you there, hiding behind your door to stab you?”
“Then I will stab him first!” Nie Mingjue yells, before he stops, takes a deep breath. He squeezes his eyes shut, pinches the bridge of his nose. This is ridiculous. He is having a migraine, he thinks. Or a stroke. “A-sang! I don’t even know him - ”
“You do, though! You do!” Nie Huaisang takes on a very smugly enthusiastic tone, and before he can even reply Huaisang plows on and says, “He actually called me first, you know, and he was very concerned! Wrong number, you called him instead of me - do you remember now? And then it got cut short because the police stormed the restaurant!”
…
“Excuse me???”
“I know, right?” Nie Huiasang practically squeals, breathless with excitement, and Nie Mingjue’s screaming brain is about to demand what, exactly, he fucking knows, when his brother gleefully goes, “Da-Ge, it’s fate! It’s so romantic! You called the wrong number and it led to the guy I think is perfect for you and did you know that you actually met his younger brother? He - ”
“A-sang, I swear to god if you are joking - ”
“I’m not! I’m serious! His name is - ”
“NIE HUAISANG - ”
“HIS NAME IS LAN XICHEN AND - ”
“Nie Mingjue?”
Nie Mingjue whips around, and the screaming in his brain whites out.
There is a man. The distance between them spans a few considerable yards, but his voice had rung clear as a bell. When they make eye contact, the man says again, in a painfully familiar voice, “Nie Mingjue?” and when Nie Mingjue wordlessly nods he visibly relaxes, the uncertain look on his face growing into something more pleased.
Then he starts to walk.
In that moment, the scene around them is frenetic, sirens blaring and officers yelling and civilians gawking everywhere. It is a stark contrast to the calmness this man exudes, the easy elegance with which he dodges people running back and forth, and before he knows it Nie Mingjue finds himself meeting him halfway, stepping out from the curb and into the chaos, drawn like a magnet to true north.
“You had me worried for a minute there,” the man - Lan Xichen - says when they both come to a halt, a mere foot or so between them and nothing more. A corner of his lips quirks up. “I tried calling you again but there was no answer. So I called your brother to ask for help.”
“How do you know my brother?” Nie Mingjue says, half a heartbeat later. Or forces out, honestly. He has to consciously make himself speak, or else he will just keep on staring. This person is … he is striking, with long black hair tied in a low ponytail and a beautiful face, tall and tastefully dressed in a deep blue coat and a white turtleneck.
He has the kindest eyes.
At that, Nie Mingjue is rewarded with a smile, small but alive with dry humor. “Jin Guangyao owned a lot of establishments, but there’s only one casino where he took his last stand. He tried to take hostages, do you remember that bit of news?” At his nod, Lan Xichen continues, “One of them was my brother’s fiancee.” The small smile transforms into a grin at the dawning realization on Nie Mingjue’s face. “Wei Wuxian and your brother snuck out, my brother followed.” He leans in and says, “Wangji never did tell me who threw the molotov cocktail. It saved their lives.”
His tone is light and teasing, exactly like how he sounded on the phone. Nie Mingjue finds himself relaxing, and the slightly awkward atmosphere between them eases into something strangely comfortable and warm.
“Two were actually thrown: one from Jiang Wanyin, one from your brother,” Nie Mingjue admits, and the man lets out a huff of laughter. “My brother made them.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” Lan Xichen says, his lips quirking up. “Jin Guangyao held my brother’s life in his hands. He should know a little fire is nothing.”
“A-sang is lucky I was overseas when it happened,” Nie Mingjue grumbles. Overseas and missing and unconscious, actually, thanks to Jin Guangyao's betrayal. Waking up to the news that Nie Huiasang was in shooting distance to the person responsible for damn near putting him in a coma had been enough to burn through the residual effects of whatever poison Jin Guangyao used to try and kill him, and he'd given the nurse in Yiling a scare when he'd all but leapt out of his bed in the middle of her story. The rage and terror was paralyzing, made even more so by a signal so shitty that none of his calls ever connected, no way to know what's been happening the whole time he was basically thought dead . The journey to get back had been powered by sheer panic and bullheaded will. He remembers riding a boat, a train, and a military cargo aircraft in order to cross around half a dozen timezones in the space of twenty four hours, and had arrived back at Qinghe just minutes after his brother got home. The look on Nie Huiasang’s face had been priceless, and he remembers being so torn between yelling or hugging him to death that he ended up doing both.
Jin Guangyao is lucky, is what goes unsaid.
Lan Xichen inclines his head, as if acknowledging what he truly means, and asks thoughtfully, “Who knew they’d ended up exposing all his secrets?”
“Pretty sure that was planned,” Nie Mingjue says dryly. The Jiang brothers are Huiasang’s closest and oldest friends, and he is painfully familiar with the kind of dumbassery the three of them are capable of when they put their mind to it. Brilliant individually, brilliantly stupid when together, with a self-preservation level of zero. He’d met Lan Wangji only once before the Jin Guangyao incident, but from the way he’d been plastered to Wei Wuxian’s side, he’s pretty sure their group of three just became four. God help him, and he says, ”Perhaps the only surprise was A-sang ending eight hundred years of pining,”
“Surprise or not,” Lan Xichen says good-naturedly, “As one who personally witnessed all eight hundred years of that pining, I’m very thankful it’s over.”
Nie Mingjue had maybe two minutes of exposure to Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji’s horrible flirting, and it was two minutes too long. Lan Xichen, Nie Mingjue thinks gravely, is going to endure that forever. He must have a will of iron and a stomach of steel. He should really be commended for that.
He starts to say, “I - ”
There is a loud, screeching honk, a glint of metal at the corner of his eye, and everything Nie Mingjue wants to say flies out the window as he reflexively switches track: he grabs Lan Xichen’s arm, pulls him closer, and stumbles a few steps back on the same movement, bringing the other man with him.
The car speeds past them barely a second later, a hairsbreadth away from Lan Xichen’s back.
Nie Mingjue has a hand around Lan Xichen’s arm, the other around his waist. Lan Xichen’s free arm is braced against his chest, preventing them both from overbalancing. The other, the one Nie Minjue is holding, is grasping his shoulder. The distance between them has shrunk to mere inches.
They shift into a more stable stance, but neither of them move away.
It is almost sunset, and there is a bite in the air that promises a chilly night ahead. There is a gust of wind that blows past, cold and sharp, and it should have sliced through Nie Mingjue’s jacket, seeped into his skin, but it does not. All he can feel is warmth: inside his belly, in the places where they are touching, in the space between and around the two of them. It builds as they stand frozen, staring at each other, and Nie Mingjue wonders, half-hysterically, if this is what it feels like to burn.
“I - I’m sorry,” Lan Xichen finally says. His voice is a little rough. His hand curls around Nie Mingjue’s lapel and stays there. He is looking at him with wide, dark eyes. “Thank you for - ”
Nie Mingjue cannot contain it anymore and blurts out, “Were you really supposed to be - you’re the one I was supposed to meet? Not him?”
Lan Xichen blinks at the intensity of his tone, but he nods. “I - believe so? Huiasang told me himself the last time he was in Gusu, but a few days ago I received a message from him saying it was cancelled. I didn’t want to pry. He’s been telling me about you, about how busy you were, so I understood.” A pause, before he says with a rueful smile, “The message was ostensibly from him, at least. On hindsight - well.”
“Ostensibly,” Nie Mingjue repeats. Then: “My brother has been telling you about me?”
Nie Mingjue doesn’t know what face he makes then, but whatever it is has Lan Xichen hastily adding, “Only good things! Only good things, I assure you,” and when Nie Mingjue doesn't reply the other man pats him on the chest, as if lightly chiding him, and gives him an amused look. “I did say yes, didn’t I?”
The thought strikes Nie Mingjue then, that if Wen Xu hadn’t interfered, he would have had a blind date with Lan Xichen. They would have sat across across each other in that restaurant, eaten dinner until they were full, and ordered drinks until they were pleasantly tipsy. Time would have passed quickly, he imagines, as awkward small talk turns into something more organic and they exchange stories about anything and everything: about the eight hundred years of pining, molotov cocktails, their brothers, their families. No waiter would have cried, no valet would have been yelled at. Nie Mingjue would not have had to lock himself in the bathroom to yell angrily at his brother not even an hour into dinner. If it had been Lan Xichen, Nie Mingjue would have done everything in his power to make sure his date lasted long past dinner and into the night, long after the sun has set. Maybe they would have taken a walk in the park to pass - to prolong - the hours and, instead of fighting against the urge to punch Wen Ruohan’s son in the face, he would have spent all that time valiantly fighting against the urge to hold Lan Xichen’s hand.
“I’m going to kill Wen Xu,” Nie Mingjue says abruptly, decisively, and the non-sequitur startles a laugh out of Lan Xichen, brief and bright and delighted. It lights up his whole face, makes it more enchanting, and in that moment Nie Mingue knows he is so, so fucked.
“Ah, please don’t commit a crime on my behalf,” Lan Xichen says, smiling. “Everything worked out in the end, right? You still called me, however accidental it had been.”
“I did,” Nie Mingjue says grudgingly.
“And even if you hadn’t, we would have met, I think. Six degrees of separation and all.”
“We would have. We will.” Nie Mingjue will make sure of it.
“Serendipitous, don’t you think?” Lan Xichen asks. His eyes are twinkling.
“Hm, no.” He shakes his head, and when Lan Xichen sends him a questioning look, he says simply, “I think it is fate.”
Lan Xichen’s face softens then, warm and sweet, and Nie Mingjue wants. They are almost the same height, he thinks hazily, and if he is permitted - and he thinks he is, if he is reading this right, if he is not going out of his mind - all he has to do is to tilt his head down slightly and -
His phone rings, loud and shrill and sudden, and as if it had been a sword slicing down between them they spring apart, pulling away from each other.
Nie Mingjue wants to scream. He wants his heart to stop beating so furiously. He wants to maybe kiss Lan Xichen senseless, which is not helped by the way Lan Xichen is looking at him, like maybe he wants it as well. He takes a steadying breath, pulls out his phone, and - never breaking eye contact with the other man - slides to answer.
“Hello?”
Nie Huiasang’s voice blasts through Nie Mingjue’s phone.
“HELLO? HELLO? DA-GE! ARE YOU THERE?”
“A-sang,” Nie Mingjue groans, slapping a hand against his forehead. Across from him, Lan Xichen starts chuckling, and even when Nie Mingjue scowls at him he doesn’t stop. In fact, it only makes it worse.
“Finally! Are you alright?” Huaiasang is saying. “I tried calling again but my battery drained so I had to use Wei-xiong’s. You got cut off! What happened??”
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Nie Mingjue says. “You don’t - ”
“Don’t scare me like that! Ugh, Da-Ge!” Huiasang huffs. “Anyway, I don’t care about the art exhibit anymore. I’m going home. I’m booking a flight right now - ”
“Don’t you dare,” Nie Mingue commands immediately. The one-week art exhibit only happens once a year. Huiasang has been looking forward to it for months. Going back is ridiculous. “I’m serious, Nie Huiasang! If I see you back here before that’s over I’ll break your legs!”
“But - “
“I am fine!”
Nie Huiasang makes an aggrieved sound. “Da-Ge, I love you but you are a LYING LIAR WHO - oh,” The way his brother’s tone abruptly switches makes the hair at the back of Nie Mingjue’s neck stand on end. He can almost imagine his expression, slyly raised eyebrows and all. And sure enough -
“Xichen-ge is already there, isn’t he?” Nie Huisanag whispers. “Oooh, he’s already there, I bet! Isn’t he amazing? Do you like him, Da-Ge? I bet you like him. He is very easy to like!” And the two seconds that Nie Mingjue takes to answer that question is apparently all the answer he needs, because Nie Huaisang whoops and says, gleeful and excited, “Oh my god, you do like him!” and, to Nie Mingjue’s absolute horror, he actually drops all manner of propriety and shouts, loud enough to be heard through the speakers, “HI, XICHEN-GE. IT’S NIE HUIASANG! THANK YOU FOR GETTING MY BROTHER!”
“Huiasang!” Nie Mingjue hisses, mortified and half-deaf, “Show some respect!” He looks apologetically at Lan Xichen, who is struggling hard to contain his laughter.
“It’s okay, Da-Ge, Xichen-ge and I are very close,” Huiasang assures him unhelpfully. “Now, come on, come on! Please put me on speaker! I just want to say thank you. I promise I’ll behave!”
“You better!” Nie Mingjue says threateningly, for all fucking good it’s going to do to his brother, but he does put his phone on speaker and holds it out between the two of them. “Here,” he says, exasperated. “He wants to speak to you.”
Smiling, Lan Xichen moves to stand by his side and leans closer. “Hello, Hua - ”
“DA-GE THINKS YOU’RE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL MAN HE’S EVER LAID -"
“HE’S NOT HERE YET!” Nie Mingjue bellows, jerking the phone back in horror.
“Huh? But you said -”
“I LIED. That was Wen Xu! He escaped the police and it was very attractive. I think I’m in love. Thank you for introducing me!”
Lan Xichen gives in then, laughing openly.
“LIES,” his brother is yelling. “Wen Xu sounds like shit! That was definitely not him! DA-GE - ”
“Too late. He has betrayed me and stabbed me. I am dying on the ground as we speak,” Nie Mingue informs him, and Huiasang lets out an outraged squawk. Beside him, Lan Xichen’s head has briefly fallen on his shoulder from laughing so hard, frame shaking, so Nie Mingjue cannot help but be slightly less homicidal as he says, “Goodbye, A-sang!” and he hangs up.
“That was mean,” Lan Xichen teases, and he straightens up once again and steps back, regaining his composure. He is alive with mirth.
“Only for the next few seconds,” Nie Mingjue says, long-suffering. “He’s going to be smug about this forever,” and sure enough, his phone buzzes with an incoming text message. Nie Mingjue opens it, rolls his eyes when he sees the long line of heart and winking emojis, and wordlessly shows it to Lan Xichen.
“I see,” Lan Xichen says, and his laughter, while much more subdued, is nevertheless genuine. There is a lovely flush on his cheeks. “I take it this blind date is a success?”
Nie Mingjue makes a non-committal sound, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “No more blind dates,” he corrects firmly.
“Oh?”
“This is the last blind date,” Nie Mingjue says. He clears his throat, feels the back of his neck warm, but he pushes on and adds, “But I would like it very much if there are more dates.”
He does not turn his eyes away from Lan Xichen when he says this, refusing to be cowed by his own stupid feelings, so he sees the exact moment the shy smile blooms on Lan Xichen’s face, the moment his bold admission fuels him to move.
Lan Xichen steps closer, closer to Nie Mingjue until the two of them are practically chest to chest, until the air is practically crackling between them. Then -
“Wen Xu made that much of an impression, huh?”
“Lan Xichen - ”
There is the briefest, lightest kiss on the corner of his lips.
Nie Mingjue’s brain short-circuits.
“Okay, let’s do it right this time. With the proper introductions and all,” Lan Xichen says, prim as you please, like he hadn’t just shocked Nie Mingjue speechless. He steps back to a more formal distance, his lips twitching. He gives a bow, textbook perfect and precise, and then says, his eyes dancing with amusement, “Hello, my name is Lan Xichen. It's a pleasure to finally meet you.”
Nie Mingjue stares at him for a beat. One, two -
“Nie Mingjue,” he says finally, perfectly formal despite how his voice rasps, and bows in return. “It is very nice to meet you as well.” Then, wonderingly: “You are going to be the death of me.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Lan Xichen says, and he breaks out into laughter again, filling Nie Mingue’s chest with something too big and bright to name. “I couldn’t - ”
Nie Mingjue kisses the laughter off his lips.