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Entry tags:
(fic) tgcf | hualian
More single dad Hua Cheng and baby sitter Xie Lian.
“San Lang,” Xie Lian says, resisting the urge to lean into the hand cupping his cheek.
Before them, the fireplace crackles softly. E’Ming is sprawled out on the rug in front of it, his chest rising and falling in time with his soft snoring. The light of the fire reflects onto San Lang’s hair, his clothes, shines in his eye. The warmth suits him.
“San Lang,” Xie Lian tries again, gently taking hold of his wrist and trying to resist the urge to stroke his thumb along the skin. Artists throughout the centuries could try carving their muses out from blocks of marble and never reach this kind of beauty or perfection. “I know E’Ming is fond of me but I’m afraid that fondness will disappear if he thinks I’m trying to replace his mother.”
“His mother?” San Lang doesn’t touch, but his thumb hovers so close to his cheekbone that Xie Lian almost wishes that he would. “Who is that?”
“I don’t know,” Xie Lian says, quietly exasperated at San Lang’s insistence on being deliberately obtuse. “But for you to dote on him so much, I’m certain you must have loved her deeply. I’m sorry that she’s no longer with you, but—“
“Gege,” San Lang laughs, like he can no longer keep the joke to himself. This time, he does stroke Xie Lian’s cheek, just once and with the lightest pressure. “My son is adopted. I had nothing to do with his birth. He was an orphan, and I took him in. You should know, I have only ever loved one person in my life.”
Xie Lian smiles. “E’Ming.”
San Lang returns his smile. “Two people.”
“Yourself.”
This time, San Lang laughs. He threads his fingers into Xie Lian’s hair. This time, Xie Lian allows himself to be pulled closer, for their lips to meet. He can feel the curve of San Lang’s smile against his mouth.
“Two people,” San Lang murmurs into the space between their lips as they pull apart, and the tenderness in his gaze makes Xie Lian’s heart flutter like the butterfly embroidered onto his eye patch.
“San Lang,” Xie Lian says, resisting the urge to lean into the hand cupping his cheek.
Before them, the fireplace crackles softly. E’Ming is sprawled out on the rug in front of it, his chest rising and falling in time with his soft snoring. The light of the fire reflects onto San Lang’s hair, his clothes, shines in his eye. The warmth suits him.
“San Lang,” Xie Lian tries again, gently taking hold of his wrist and trying to resist the urge to stroke his thumb along the skin. Artists throughout the centuries could try carving their muses out from blocks of marble and never reach this kind of beauty or perfection. “I know E’Ming is fond of me but I’m afraid that fondness will disappear if he thinks I’m trying to replace his mother.”
“His mother?” San Lang doesn’t touch, but his thumb hovers so close to his cheekbone that Xie Lian almost wishes that he would. “Who is that?”
“I don’t know,” Xie Lian says, quietly exasperated at San Lang’s insistence on being deliberately obtuse. “But for you to dote on him so much, I’m certain you must have loved her deeply. I’m sorry that she’s no longer with you, but—“
“Gege,” San Lang laughs, like he can no longer keep the joke to himself. This time, he does stroke Xie Lian’s cheek, just once and with the lightest pressure. “My son is adopted. I had nothing to do with his birth. He was an orphan, and I took him in. You should know, I have only ever loved one person in my life.”
Xie Lian smiles. “E’Ming.”
San Lang returns his smile. “Two people.”
“Yourself.”
This time, San Lang laughs. He threads his fingers into Xie Lian’s hair. This time, Xie Lian allows himself to be pulled closer, for their lips to meet. He can feel the curve of San Lang’s smile against his mouth.
“Two people,” San Lang murmurs into the space between their lips as they pull apart, and the tenderness in his gaze makes Xie Lian’s heart flutter like the butterfly embroidered onto his eye patch.