переведи текст “I’m a bad person, but I’m happy I found you first,” Hua Cheng says, nuzzling his hair. “Be honest, gege—do you regret it?” Xie Lian doesn’t have to look into…

Переведи текст “I’m a bad person, but I’m happy I found you first,” Hua Cheng says, nuzzling his hair. “Be honest, gege—do you regret it?” Xie Lian doesn’t have to look into himself for long before replying. “No. I’m happy you found me first, too. And stop calling yourself a bad person.” He pushes back subtly and Hua Cheng’s arms around him relax their hold immediately. Xie Lian turns around and looks up, meeting his eyes. “You are wonderful, San Lang. You were wonderful that night, too, when you didn’t even know me.” His face heats up even more, but he pushes through. “I don’t regret a thing.” As if to prove himself, Hua Cheng kisses him slowly and very, very gently. “My good fortune,” he repeats softly, stealing one last kiss before they part. Xie Lian smiles, shaking his head, as he disentangles himself and moves back toward the stove. “We’re a set, then. My luck is incredibly bad.” He chuckles as he stirs the now-orange-and-brown-something with a spatula. “Funny—as a child, I never thought myself unlucky. I don’t know what happened, but later, it was like someone switched my chart.” Hua Cheng hums. “I’m the opposite; I was a very unlucky child. My mother even took me to a shaman once to see if I was cursed.” Xie Lian stops to look at him. “San Lang, that’s terrible.” Hua Cheng smiles and shakes his head. “She was trying to help me. I was bullied a lot.” Xie Lian doesn’t know enough to have an opinion, so he asks instead, “If it’s changed, then something must have happened. Did the ritual help?” Hua Cheng snorts. “Nothing helped, and after my mother died, it only got worse. No, it only changed when I met... someone. I was seven at the time, and things were already like that. I didn’t really… see much point in living.” Xie Lian’s heart cracks. “San Lang…” Hua Cheng’s gaze is a hundred miles away. “Someone saved my worthless life—another boy. He didn’t just physically save me—he made me see the kind of life I wanted to have. The kind of life worth living. He saved me in more ways than one, and ever since then…” He exhales. “Ever since then, my luck has been exceptional.” Xie Lian has a strange sinking feeling in his chest, as if his heart is slowly falling into a well devoid of gravity. “He sounds like a very special person.” “He is.” Hua Cheng’s eyes are still elsewhere, caught in the memory. “Do you…” Xie Lian swallows. “Are you in contact?” Hua Cheng shakes his head, and abruptly, his gaze clears. “I haven’t found him yet.” He looks at the stove. “Gege, I think it’s time to reduce the heat again.” “Oh! Thanks.” “En. I’ll go set up for your bath and be right back.” Xie Lian hums in acknowledgment. As Hua Cheng’s steps fade, Xie Lian looks into the pan and realizes he can no longer tell what color the contents are. He can see it clearly, but it doesn’t connect to a word in his head. So this is the answer to the question that’s been plaguing him this whole time—why Hua Cheng, who very clearly enjoys being the perfect partner, had stated with such finality that he ‘doesn’t do relationships.’ He’s already in one. Clearly, the larger-than-life figure from his past, whom he hasn’t found yet, is the one who lives in his heart, keeping it closed to anyone else. Xie Lian turns the stove off and leans on the counter, staring unseeingly into space. He feels suddenly, absurdly jealous. What kind of person was that? A child’s perception is, of course, its own thing, but it’s apparent that the other boy had been someone spectacular. To have given someone as strong-willed as Hua Cheng a life purpose—that’s… Xie Lian shakes his head, smiling even as the corners of his lips turn down. How can Xie Lian even compare to such a person? Xie Lian is an adult now, and his life is a mess. Even as he is, he can’t compete with a child. More than that, though, he selfishly regrets that someone else had been there for the tiny, struggling Hua Cheng instead of Xie Lian. He should be happy someone had been there, and he is. He just wishes he had been the one to hug that boy and tell him that he’s in no way cursed. He wishes… Xie Lian straightens up and goes to get the plates. Whatever he’s made is probably inedible, but he has to at least serve it before getting some better, pre-cooked options from the fridge. Hua Cheng won’t take long upstairs. Xie Lian has that much time to get himself together. -- Hua Cheng does indeed leave early the next day, planning to stop at a prospective gallery site before continuing on towards the conference. Xie Lian had wanted to see him off but only got a laugh, a kiss, and a soft, “Sleep some more, gege, save your strength” for his trouble. When he does get up, he discovers that Hua Cheng has made him breakfast. For some reason, looking at it makes Xie Lian instantly morose. He eats it almost mindlessly, scrolling through his phone and missing Hua Cheng’s teasing. His workday is thankfully, predictably chaotic. Xiao Ying is out for the day, some kind of problem with her brother, so Xie Lian is left mostly unsupervised, which bodes well for his inbox. Noon finds him crawling under the newly arrived weaving machine as the head engineer explains its particular problem. Xie Lian would have taken him at his word, but the man had insisted on showing him personally. As a result, Xie Lian gets his shirt wrinkled and his pants dusty and has to endure the aunties fawning over him before he manages to make his escape. Of course, this just has to be the day when he has a work lunch scheduled with Mu Qing. Xie Lian invites Feng Xin along out of sheer self-preservation and prepares to ignore Mu Qing’s glares. As they meet at the restaurant, Mu Qing’s eyes scan Xie Lian from head to toe, zeroing in on every smudge and every wrinkle. He scoffs, but evidently deems it unworthy of commenting and directs his ire elsewhere. “This place is unsanitary.” He sniffs imperiously. “I wonder who chose it.” “Shut up; it’s not!” Feng Xin predictably snaps back, occupying an entire half of the booth by himself and thus leaving Xie Lian and Mu Qing to sit next to each other. “They serve the best noodles. That He Xuan guy eats here every other day and cleans them out every time.” That’s not really indicative of much, Xie Lian thinks, amused, as he picks up the laminated menu. The place is indeed a little… “That doesn’t say much; that guy will eat anything,” Mu Qing says acidly. “If I end up with food poisoning, you’re taking me to the hospital and paying.” Feng Xin snorts. “Oh, I’ll pay. I’ll pay extra to have them tranquilize you and finally get half an hour of peace.” “You—!” “All right, all right,” Xie Lian intervenes. “Let’s just order. I trust Feng Xin’s taste.” “Of course you do,” Mu Qing grumbles. “You always take his side.” Xie Lian internally shakes his head, smiling at the waitress. Honestly, this lunch is more than a little bizarre. He remembers the three of them eating together so many times, Feng Xin and Mu Qing sniping at one another and Xie Lian stuck in the middle, the unwilling mediator. Yet now, they have come together like this to only talk about business. The experience is… slightly heavier on the bitter than the sweet. Xie Lian brushes the thoughts away. “You’re just stalling us at this point.” Mu Qing continues venting his displeasure, having done away with his food. “Once the website is done, other than store placements, my team will be basically twiddling their thumbs.” “Focus on the brand overhaul,” Xie Lian cuts in, finishing off his own bowl. “I didn’t like the presentation your team put together last time.” Mu Qing scowls. “We don’t know what we’re selling yet, and you want a new face?” Xie Lian nods. “It’s not ideal, but we’ll find a new designer eventually. I want things to be in motion before then.” “And how soon is ‘eventually?’” Mu Qing presses. “How many have you rejected already? Six? Seven?” Xie Lian shrugs. “I didn’t like their designs. And they didn’t even try to incorporate what we have already.” Mu Qing rolls his eyes. “Well, while we wait for someone to appease your refined taste, your highness—” Xie Lian cuts him off. “Would you wear it?” Mu Qing scoffs. “That’s way below my level.” “You wouldn’t be caught dead wearing it,” Xie Lian translates with a smile. Feng Xin snorts. “I know our core values are affordability and durability, but there’s no reason we can’t make our products more fashionable. I’m not talking cutting-edge—just something that doesn’t look like it’s seen the fall of the last dynasty.” He goes on, expression still serene. “We need a new designer for that, but young people are understandably leery of working with us. Maybe this is exactly what your team can help with—think of some way to lure them in. A promotion, a contest—something. There has to be an angle—maybe community support, embracing one’s roots while looking into the future, something anti-overconsumption…” He trails off, staring at one of the tacky-looking flyers sitting in the napkin holder. “Why can’t you just ask—what’s their name?” Mu Qing frowns. “Shi Qingxuan? Aren’t they a friend of yours? I’m sure they’d do you a favor.” Xie Lian picks up the flyer, his reply distracted. “A-Xuan is way out of our price range, and I don’t want to ask them for a favor. Creating even a mini-collection takes time and effort, Mu Qing; we wouldn’t be able to compensate them as they deserve.” Mu Qing snorts. “Oh, I’m sure your husband—” “—and I don’t want to put them in a position where they’d feel bad if they refuse,” Xie Lian continues, putting the flyer in his pocket. He looks up at Mu Qing. “Shi Qingxuan is too big a name for us. Xianle would be elevated, but what about them?” “Who cares? It’s—” “I do,” Xie Lian says with finality. “We’ll find our designer, Mu Qing. Until then, do what you can.” “I’ll get us desserts,” Feng Xin volunteers, seeing the end of the discussion. Xie Lian stands up. “None for me, thanks; I have another meeting. Thank you; this has been productive. I’ll leave first. You two stay and… enjoy yourselves.” He leaves, ignoring Mu Qing’s glare, and covers the bill on his way out. He used to do it when they were friends, and now… Xie Lian smiles fleetingly. It’s what bosses do. -- When he returns to his office, he finds a huge bouquet of blood-red roses sitting on his desk. Xie Lian doesn’t need to count to know they number a hundred. A silver thread is woven into the flowers, along with tiny silver butterflies—not unlike the ones painted on his door. Xie Lian sighs a little in pure aesthetic appreciation. “Are those… handmade?” he wonders, leaning closer to admire the butterflies. “En. Every last one of them.” He Xuan is also in his office, munching on an apple. Only then does Xie Lian notice that there’s also a box of artfully arranged fruit beside the vase. He Xuan is staring at the bouquet fixedly as he chews and asks, apropos of nothing, “Do you like yachts?” Xie Lian blinks. “They’re… all right?” “Yachts are good,” He Xuan says with conviction, gesturing with the mostly-eaten apple. “The kind with sails, obviously; the rest don’t deserve the name.” “...Obviously.” “You can sail anywhere on a yacht. You can live on a yacht and never have to deal with people.” His expression turns wistful. He eats the rest of the apple in one bite, core and all. “I’m just saying: yachts are good. Consider yachts, Xie Lian.” “As in existentially, or—” “As in something you’d like to own.” Xie Lian blinks again, this time more slowly. “I… don’t need a yacht, He Xuan.” “See, this is where you’re wrong.” He Xuan gestures at him forcefully. “Don’t be so selfish. You might not need a yacht, but consider your friends and colleagues—maybe they do. Maybe they already have a couple, so buying another one for themselves might seem a bit unreasonable to some narrow-minded people. Maybe words like ‘obsession’ and ‘hoarding’ are being dropped around carelessly, hurting feelings. This is where you come in and graciously give them the yacht you don’t need. Everybody’s happy; problem solved.” Xie Lian tries valiantly for a few moments, he really does, but no, no sense is to be uncovered in this conversation. It’s amazing how frequently this happens when He Xuan is around. He sighs. “Do you have a reason to be in my office?” “Yes.” He Xuan points at the fruit box. “Food.” “He Xuan…” Xie Lian rubs the point between his brows. “I’m very busy, as you surely must know—” “Three accountants have been embezzling for as long as there’re records,” He Xuan says bluntly, picking up a peach. “I thought I should tell you before putting it in writing.” Xie Lian’s face falls. -- By the time Xie Lian gets home, he’s not even hungry. All he wants is a bath, a bed, and warm arms around him. Alas, the latter isn’t an option tonight, and he can’t help but feel sad about it; he’s become utterly spoiled, it seems. He shakes himself. He’s survived without such luxuries before, and he’ll have to do it again, one day soon. Better not to get too complacent. Wei Yu turns out to be a very boisterous young man, much younger, in fact, than Xie Lian had expected. He’s lively, friendly, and yes, strikingly attractive. Even after the day he’s had, Xie Lian has to smile to himself, remembering Hua Cheng’s expression and deliberate downplaying. Contrary to Hua Cheng’s insinuations, however, Wei Yu doesn’t flirt with Xie Lian. Instead he talks about his boyfriend with a starstruck look in his eyes as he finishes cooking and serves the meal. He’s in a rush to leave, too, as apparently, this is date night. “Oh, I’m sorry for keeping you,” Xie Lian apologizes, genuinely regretful. “Next time, don’t wait for me—just leave everything and go. I have to work late sometimes.” “No can do; the boss will have my head.” Wei Yu grins. “He left very specific instructions, and I totally get it, so don’t worry; it’s fine. Ningning tends to work late, too; he’s probably ecstatic I haven’t shown up yet to drag him away from his computer.” “He sounds like a keeper.” “En.” Wei Yu’s smile grows impossibly wider. “See you tomorrow, boss man’s husband!” “Just Xie Lian is fine,” Xie Lian mutters to an empty apartment. He sighs and sits down to eat alone. -- He’s getting ready for bed when Hua Cheng calls him. “Sorry I’m so late, gege. I wanted to keep you company through dinner, but they kept us at this stupid thing—” “It’s all right, San Lang,” Xie Lian interrupts, smiling despite himself. “I’m not sleeping yet.” Hua Cheng hums. “Switch to video?” Xie Lian pokes at the screen a few times before managing to hit the right spot and sets the phone down. Hua Cheng’s face appears, as appallingly handsome as ever. He looks to be in his hotel room. “There you are,” Hua Cheng says, looking him over carefully. “Oh, gege, I wish I could be there now.” Xie Lian’s heart twinges. “You heard.” “En; He Xuan called. How did it go?” Xie Lian sits further back on the bed and rubs the spot between his brows, shoulders drooping. “There will be no official investigation,” he reports tiredly. “Two of them worked for the company my whole life, and if my father hadn’t…” He sighs. “In any case, I couldn’t send them to jail. Plus, Xianle can’t take a reputation hit right now, not so soon after the workers’ pay thing.” He pauses. “I had to fire them.” “He Xuan could have—” “I had to do it myself,” Xie Lian says firmly. “I did it, but it was… hard.” “I can imagine. You did the right thing, gege. You’ve done so well.” Xie Lian blinks quickly several times, the few simple words warming him up from inside. “I wish you were here, too, San Lang,” he confesses before he can stop himself. “Gege, I can drive home now, if—” “No!” Xie Lian hastily shakes his head, looking at the screen again. “San Lang, I didn’t mean it like that. Stay where you are—you must be tired, too, and it’s a two-hour drive.” “It’s not a problem if you need me,” Hua Cheng says quietly, eyes firm. “In fact, I would prefer it, if you—” “Stay,” Xie Lian says softly, lips curling up of their own will. “I’m fine, San Lang. Honest. Just… tell me about your day? How’s the conference so far? See anything with potential?” “In a manner of speaking.” Hua Cheng makes a complicated face. “I’ll tell you all about it, but do me a favor first? Plug in your phone and lie down, all right?” Xie Lian obediently reaches for the charger, then pauses. “San Lang, I’ll fall asleep.” Hua Cheng smiles. “En. How would you like a bedtime story?” Xie Lian can only look at him, heart rushing too full too fast. “I really wish I could hug you.” Hua Cheng’s expression softens. “Me, too. Go ahead, gege—lie down and close your eyes.” Xie Lian falls asleep somewhere in the middle of Hua Cheng making fun of the opening ceremony, his warm voice pitched low, the sound soothing like a weighted blanket. -- He dreams of the ocean, giant waves and howling wind. He’s running or swimming, chest burning, as he tries to reach someone—he can’t see who. The ocean swallows him, carrying him further and further away, before he catches a glimpse of their face.