A/N

chapter two :) 

the final chapter will be updated the day after christmas.

as always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts ♡

all my love,

krissy

❂

for anicecupofspilledink

N I G H T   T W O

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DECEMBER 15, 2021

Wen and Mei are twenty-one

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HONG KONG'S CHRISTMAS-LIT skyscrapers rise like ribbons of starlight outside the wedding reception's floor-length windows.

To be precise, it's Wangmin's wedding reception--Wangmin's wedding with Yingyue, after years of on-and-off dating and dancing around commitment after breakups from long distance and diverging career paths. But they're here together, now. They're seated at the front of an expansive warm-lit dining area, their table swathed with sweet pine and candlelight, just shy of the dance floor.

Wen still can't believe this is happening. He sits at a table crowded with bridesmaids and groomsmen, including Yingyue's older sister, the maid of honor, who's dressed in a light shade of faded pink. Though Wen still has school to finish in New York, Wangmin has moved back to Hong Kong, taking up a job at a wildly successful communications agency in Tai Koo, where he's reunited with Yingyue and arranged for his wedding to be here, on the twelfth-floor restaurant in one of Wan Chai's wealthiest buildings.

Wen's mind spins as a room of glimmering spectators laughs and awwws at the slideshow. His cheeks hurt from a thousand smiles tossed to friends and family and extended family he's met only now. His ears ring from hearing the same phrases, repeated over and over again, in English and Cantonese. Congratulations! Gong hei! Your parents would have been proud. Wah, sou joh woh (you've gotten leaner)...

Swallowing, Wen tilts his head as his fingers tug at the silver tie digging into his throat. Pulls up his speech on his phone and fiddles with the mic in his hand.

Daniel, Wangmin's Korean-American friend and Wen's fellow groomsman, nudges him with a wry grin. "Nervous?"

"You think?" Wen murmurs.

Wen allows his eyes to wander the room splayed out in front of him. Sees glittering glass and silver beyond its gaping windows, dizzying him because of the sheer height of the reception's floor, as if suspended in the middle of night sky. In the glow of centerpiece candles he sees the wink of jewelry on smiling families with squirming children gathered around tables with glowing champagne glasses, folded cloth napkins, and expensive chopsticks. He recognizes faces from high school, from Chinese University, from New York University, Korean and British faces from Wangmin's overseas trips and study abroad programs.

His heart pounds. He turns away and rubs his jaw, restless.

She RSVP'd, Wangmin said weeks ago.

Wen pretended not to care. What did she say?

She said yes. Wangmin studied him for a long time. It took Wen every ounce of strength to control his reaction. Is that okay?

Why wouldn't it be?

Over the years, America has made it more than easy for Wen to forget the past--so much that the buzzing fusion culture of Hong Kong has become different for him, like a place to recreate himself. But a part of him is afraid--afraid of her.

He's afraid of Mei. Even after he's convinced himself that it's been long enough, he's terrified. Terrified of bumping into her. Terrified of chasing and losing. Terrified of daring to call only to find out that she found someone else or simply moved on--all because he was stupid enough to walk away from her to spare her the emotional pain.

As long as I'm here, you'll never move on.

Her voice broke because she thought they were at the mercy of his grief. But even then, he knew she was wrong. He was just too afraid to chase after something that could hurt so much.

As long as you're here, I'll keep wanting to move on, he thinks now.

The last slideshow photo appears--an engagement photo of Wangmin smiling against Yingyue's kiss. Applause erupts. At the table, Wangmin is laughing, eyes bright with devilish amusement as Yingyue teases him about something in his ear.

A fleeting smile touches Wen's face, and he rises to his feet, holding his glass, free hand smoothing down his tie. He pauses just short of their table. As the room falls silent from laughter and sweet applause, Wen allows himself to sink into the confidence he's polished over the years, honing in on what he's prepared to say.

"Wangmin," he begins. 

The audience grows still, listening. As his brother meets his eyes, a dozen memories suddenly resurface--of his arrogant teasing at comic shops, of vicious arguments and then wrestling over games afterward, of the unified quietness in front of their parents' grave, of the tired and bittersweet pats on the back as they booked their tickets to the United States for good.

"Wangmin is my brother," starts Wen, "so naturally, I have a very long list of blackmail quality ammunition to scatter throughout this speech..." Laughter ensues, and Wangmin flushes with embarrassment as Wen adds with a grin, "But I'll keep primary school out of it, so you don't have to worry. Especially your comic selection in 2006. Really. But in all honesty..."

More laughter. "In all honesty, Wangmin and I spent all our time together. He introduced me to friends who supported me into secondary school and university. He introduced me to Pokémon. Smash. To soccer. To the late night snacks that relieved my relatives, who kept complaining that I had no meat and no muscle. And when I gave wrestling a try in year one of secondary school, he introduced me to the best gai dan zai in North Point the day before I had to weigh in. But still--even now, I mean, we've been inseparable. We moved to Kowloon together, then to New York.

"We diverged paths only recently--I'm still completing my last year at NYU, while Wangmin has moved on to find a job here. And, as it turns out, he found Yingyue, who so clearly makes him a better and happier man.

"When I..." Wen's heart begins to race, and he pauses to pull in a breath. His eyes wander the audience as he gathers his words. "When we left Hong Kong, we wanted to leave a lot of things behind. Not to forget them, but to put some space and open our eyes to something new. Wangmin grew up with Yingyue, so I thought she was part of this life in Hong Kong that he wanted to distance himself from. So it was strange and...refreshing to see that he didn't let her go. He always found time to see her. Or if he chickened out, fate would have a funny way of making them bump into each other.

"I remember one night--it was after he spent the day with her, past midnight, probably--he came back to our place with this smile on his face. And for those of you who know Wangmin, the guy's full of smiles. But the kind of smile he had...it was a truly happy one. I know this because I remember it distinctly from our younger days when our parents came home from work or took us out to sushi. That happiness is how I learned that healing is entirely internal, not external. How I learned that I don't have be afraid of pain. I don't have to run from it to be happy. So for that, I have you both to thank."

A warm murmur passes over the audience, and a soft smile pulls at Wangmin's lips. Wen's eyes travel across the crowd again as he resumes. "So to..."

His eyes bump into Mei. The words die in his throat. 

She's seated in the farthest table, her figure small against the vast city spilling out from the windows beyond her. He sees only her face, but it's enough. It's enough--his mouth goes dry as he sees the soft waves of hair spilling down her shoulders, dyed a rich caramel brown, her skin warm and soft in flickering candlelight, shimmer dusted across cheekbones and eyelids, her lashes thick.

Her eyes are glimmering. Wen swallows and, with effort, drags his eyes away.

"So to Yingyue and Wangmin," he continues. "For being the reason why I continue to hope for better and happier times. I've gained a beautiful new family member today, and I wish you a lifetime of love and happiness. Congrats to you both." He raises his glass with a gentle smile. "Gom bui."

A chorus of cheers! fills the air in both English and Cantonese, glasses clinking. Yingyue beams at him. Wangmin rises to his feet, gives him a brief hug with shining eyes. "Thank you," he murmurs.

Wen returns to his seat and finds himself amidst a blur of praises and pats on the back. But his heart still pounds against his ribs, excited and terrified, the way it always is when he's seen her, all those years falling away until he's that little boy in their blanket fort, wrapping his fingers around hers.

I'll marry you.

His eyes seek out her table. But when he finds it, her seat is empty.