Chapter Text
The train ride from New York to Mapleton was a picturesque route, to the point that tourists by the bushelful paid for scenic ride tickets during peak fall color season. This particular train was also packed with tourists on their way to experience the “Magic of a Christmas Wonderland.”
Wei Wuxian never glanced out the window, keeping his gaze down on his phone, flipping aimlessly through a myriad of match-3 phone games, a book he promised Qing-jie he would read but still hadn’t, and Twitter.
His phone vibrated with an incoming message but a quick glance told him it was from his ex, letting him know he had gotten his stuff out of the apartment and left his key with Wei Wuxian’s landlady.
His ex as of last night, actually.
It had not been a particularly noteworthy breakup. No yelling, no tears. Just the mutual understanding that no, this wasn’t going to work. He had asked Wei Wuxian if he really intended to leave, to be gone for a month, having agreed and said yes without even consulting or thinking about anyone else and Wei Wuxian hadn’t answered aloud because both of them already knew the answer.
“I guess I know where I stand, then,” his boyfriend of some four months had said.
Wei Wuxian apologized, and that had been that.
He wasn’t super sad about it. He also didn’t feel great about it. Just that in between feeling of recognizing the relationship was probably never going to work out and still feeling sad to be single again.
In a fit of masochism, he searched Jiang Cheng’s name on Twitter.
His brother had a premiere last night. He looked amazing, as per usual, on the red carpet. Dark black slacks and purple satin shirt. Not many could pull that off, but Jiang Cheng could.
Another life.
That’s what his therapist told him to repeat to himself when he got into these moods.
Red carpets, movie premieres – they belonged to another life. A life to look back on and acknowledge everything he had experienced – the highs and the lows. But a life to be left in the past.
Even when he by chance worked on a project that had a premiere, he turned the invitations down. It was easier, rather than answering dozens of questions.
People in the industry knew who he was, of course. But the voice acting community was tight knit, and one where you were judged on your merits. And he had more than earned his spot.
Because Wei Wuxian had been a good screen actor, at one time. But now he was an exceptional voice actor. He had forged himself a place, a community, and he didn’t often look back and regret what could have been. Only days like today. Maybe it was the holiday season, bringing some nostalgia out in him.
He leaned back against the seat. The older woman riding next to him put away her knitting, and stretched her fingers.
“My old bones aren’t what they used to be,” she said.
Wei Wuxian looked over at her.
“Someone as lovely as you cannot ever be called old,” he said.
“Flatterer. How fortunate for me, to sit next to such a handsome young man for such a beautiful train ride.”
Wei Wuxian gave her a smile, and decided to quit sulking and engage in some conversation.
“Are you traveling to Mapleton for the holiday season?” he said.
She nodded. “My daughter decided we needed a destination holiday this year. Not my first choice, but I’m indulging her. I am looking forward to the tree ceremony, though.”
They chatted companionably for the last twenty minutes of the ride or so, until the train pulled into the station and it was time to stand and get their things.
Wei Wuxian suppressed a wince as he stood, his body protesting the change in position.
Wen Qing told him once that the reason riding in a train or a car for long distances tired you out so much was because your body was constantly shifting, muscles engaging, as you kept yourself centered and still in a moving vehicle. He wasn’t sure about that theory, but he was exhausted regardless, whether it was the train ride or the long studio hours he had put in in order to get his last project finished up, or the fitful night he spent wondering if the breakup really was entirely his fault.
He felt the muscles in his leg spasm when he had his full weight on it, and with long practice, shifted so he could stretch the calf muscle in the direction needed to ease the cramping pain. The leg twinged painfully, a settled, familiar ache heralding the sharp pain yet to come.
It was going to be one of those days.
A day when it was impossible to pretend he was exactly as he had once been.
He swallowed a sigh and reached up into the overhead compartment to take down his backpack, and slid out the collapsible cane he carried with him.
The same compartment that held the cane had a beanie, mask, and sunglasses, and he put all three on.
It wasn’t likely there were professional tabloid photographers at the Mapleton train station. But with everyone in the world carrying a cell phone with a high quality camera these days, it didn’t hurt to be cautious.
His agent, Luo Qingyang (MianMian to her friends). would definitely approve of his circumspection. No one needed the media firestorm that would be ignited at photos of Wei Wuxian, former teen sensation and one half of the acting duo dubbed the Twin Prides of Yunmeng, limping with a cane.
He made his way out of the train, and then sighed again, audibly this time. Before him stretched the stairs, and beside them a ramp for accessibility, which was nice.
But someone, possessed of a particularly egregious amount of holiday cheer, had put a garland along the handrail.
It would make it difficult for him to grip it firmly enough to make his descent tolerable.
“Well that is short sighted,” said a voice.
He turned to see his traveling companion, the older woman who had been seated next to him, frowning at the handrail.
For a moment he panicked, thinking she would do something awkward like ask if he needed assistance, or something dangerous, like reach out and grab his arm in an attempt to help him down the ramp. A misplaced grab like that could unseat his carefully won balance, and send him toppling to the ground.
She did neither, however.
“My old bones are protesting this cold air. Don’t suppose you’d want to walk slowly and keep an old woman company down the ramp, would you?”
And so they both made their way down the ramp, at a nice, sedate pace. Clearly she could walk just fine, but she shuffled her feet very obviously, and walked at what must be, to her, a painfully slow pace.
When they finally reached the bottom and turned the corner, they were in the arrival and departure area where family members could wait. A younger woman, close to Wei Wuxian’s age, called out a greeting.
His companion patted his arm, gently.
“Thank you, Wei Wuxian. Enjoy your holiday.”
He turned to her in surprise. He had never given her his name.
“You recognized me,” he said.
At that she smiled, and reached up to tousle his hair, like he was a small child.
“Who couldn’t recognize that beautiful face?”
Then she winked and walked away.
Wei Wuxian let himself smile behind the mask.
If only all interactions with people who recognized him were as pleasant.
“Xian-gege!”
Wen Ning was calling out to him, and waving furiously.
He was flanked by both Wen Qing and Wen Popo, which was surprising. He had not expected the entire Wen family to come out and welcome him to Mapleton.
Wen Qing’s eyes narrowed as she took in his getup, especially the cane.
He made his way over to them and Wen Ning took his backpack. He didn’t argue.
Wen Popo embraced him.
“It’s been too long, A-Ying,” he said.
“It has, Popo,” he said. And meant it.
He let his family take him home.
***
Wei Wuxian’s pseudo-adoption into the Wen clan had happened quite accidentally.
He had been a bitter, depressed, forlorn young man driving aimlessly along the east coast with no real destination in mind. All he knew was he had to get away. Away from all the expectations. Away from all the expressions of pity. Away from the pain in Jiang Yanli’s eyes and the anger in Jiang Cheng’s.
So after his discharge from his last surgery, he got in his car and drove. One day he pulled into Mapleton, New Hampshire, and wandered into a coffee shop hoping that he could dose himself with enough caffeine to keep going a while longer.
Why he chose Mapleton over the other half-dozen small towns he had passed through already, he wasn’t sure at the time.
He wasn’t sure of anything, then. Not even where he was ultimately planning to go.
Now. a few years and a shit-ton of therapy later, he knew that he had just intended to keep going until he found a place that seemed to be suitable for ending it all.
That plan was thwarted by him walking into a random coffee shop in a random town and being met with kind eyes that looked out of a face similar to his own. The eyes belonged to a grandmotherly, gentle woman who took one look at him and saw a boy with nowhere to go.
He spent two months in Mapleton, surrounded by Wen Popo’s love and affection. She introduced him to her grand-niece and nephew, who helped her with the coffee shop. Wen Ning was still in high school, working in the cafe after school. Wen Qing was in college, and working hard to earn acceptance to medical school.
And all three of them took him in, with no hesitation.
He slept on their sofa, limped around their house, and none of them wanted anything from him. They just accepted him.
It was the end of the third week, when he finally broke down and told them who he was. Showed them pictures of himself on the internet, movie posters, celebrity photo shoots. Told them about the meteoric rise to fame he had experienced alongside his adopted brother, and how quickly it had all come crashing down.
At the end of his confession, Wen Ning just looked to his sister, then back at Wei Wuxian and said: “Um. Were we not supposed to know? ‘Cause we knew.”
It was with the support of his new family that he managed to pull himself back together. To contact a new agent, one who specialized in voice acting. He could no longer do the physical part of acting, but he still had a feel for the craft, knew how to portray emotion with his voice.
Things got better, but slowly. And through the tough years, through the times when he wasn’t sure where his next paycheck would come from, the Wens had been there.
And so, when Wen Qing called and said Wen Popo’s sister back in Suzhou was very ill and fading fast, and Wen Qing and Wen Ning wanted to fly her home so she could visit with family, but they couldn’t dare leave the shop unmanned through the holiday season - it was an easy decision for him to make.
He had just finished a job for an indie video game he liked so much he halved his regular rate for it. And come January, he had a big job for a Chinese donghua dub where he would have the lead role.
He was available, and could stay the entire month of Wen Popo’s anticipated trip. Previous stays with them meant he was already familiar with the equipment and knew his way around the shop.
What was a month of his life, compared to what they had done for him? That was his only consideration when he said yes.
The relationship had not entered his mind.
So here he was. Once more on their doorstep. Newly single, still in pain, and still not sure what course his life would take from this point.
***,
It was possible he had miscalculated.
The Wens had been gone for about 8 hours. Their flight left at 6 am local time, so all three of them had set out about 2 am.
Wei Wuxian had slept through their leaving, just as Wen Popo had arranged. She had not wanted him to lose out on any rest. She had kissed him goodbye the night before, telling him she appreciated him coming down to help them.
Wen Qing had echoed the sentiment, while much more business-like and pragmatic.
“The shop could not survive being closed the holiday season. You’re literally saving the business by doing this.”
He had shaken his head and told them it was no big deal. He was between jobs. Available.
Wen Qing had left him with express instructions of what to do each day after shift. A combination of home remedies like heating pads and epsom salt soaks, and modern medicinal remedies like his ever-present prescriptions for anti-inflammatories.
“Don’t overdo these, you’ll get an ulcer,” she said. “If it gets too bad, close the shop and rest. We can survive a day or two of no income.”
He had smiled and held up two fingers. “I promise, Qing-Jie!”
But there was no way he was closing. He was going to stay here and make as much money as possible.
How hard could it be, after all, making coffee for tourists and smiling at them?
He didn’t even have to worry about food. The shop had an arrangement with a cottage industry baker who delivered a fresh variety of pastries every day. Wen Popo has prepaid for the entire month so all Wei Wuxian had to do is accept the boxes of lovely smelling delicacies and put them in the display case.
So it should be simple. Easy.
And yet the morning rush had nearly done him in.
The doctors had warned him that there would be diminishing returns. Yes, physical therapy would strengthen the muscles and improve his mobility. But, as the years went on, arthritis would set in and begin to impose limits on what he could do.
He still tended to underestimate how debilitating his injury truly was.
Mapleton was pleasant, yes. But it was also cold. And the humidity and chilly air seemed to penetrate right through his skin and make every part of his leg ache.
On days like today he could almost feel the metal pins and rods that made it possible for him to still walk grind against each other.
It was ten o-clock. Quiet now, with the major early rush over. .
It would pick up again closer to lunch though they didn’t get a true lunch rush since they only offered pastries.
The shop closed at six, so he could make it. And Wen Qing had insisted on him keeping a chair behind the counter so he could sit and rest between customers.
He sat there, checking his phone to see that Jiang Cheng’s movie was number one at the box office, until the bell rang as someone came inside.
Wei Wuxian glanced up from his seat but could not see anyone approaching the counter.
He stood, and watched as a small figure made its way to the main counter and climbed up onto a chair.
A customer that was about 5 or 6 years old.
A customer who blinked up at him, and then scrunched his nose in confusion. “You’re not Ning-gege,” he said.
“No, I’m not,” Wei Wuxian responded.
The small child frowned, clearly put out at not finding things to his liking.
“Where is Ning-gege?” he said. “Or Wen-Popo?”
“Not here,” Wei Wuxian responded. “I’m working in their place.”
“Oh,” the child said.
He turned toward the door he had just walked through.
“I don’t know if I can stay here,” he said.
“Do you normally stay here when Ning-gege is working?” Wei Wuxian asked him.
The small customer nodded yes.
“A-Die says it’s okay. Because I already played in the library and picked out my new books, so I can come here and get hot chocolate and talk to Ning-Gege until A-Die is ready to go.”
The child set his tiny, adorable backpack on the chair next to him and began to pull out books, presumably the ones he had gotten from the library.
He made a small, neat stack, and then selected one to look at.
Apparently he had decided it was okay that he stay, even though his Ning-Gege wasn’t here.
Wei Wuxian left him to his book, which appeared to be about trains, and started making his hot chocolate.
He topped it with some whipped cream, then set it in front of the child.
The boy scrunched his nose again, which was just insanely cute, before saying: “Ning-Gege puts chocolate on top.”
“Forgive me, young master,” Wei Wuxian said. He took the mug over and added some chocolate shavings to the whipped cream.
The boy continued reading and sipping his hot chocolate.
Amused, Wei Wuxian reached out and took one of the other books, this one about African mammals, and opened it.
“That’s my book,” the child said.
“It’s a library book. That means it’s for everyone,” Wei Wuxian countered.
More scrunched-face consideration. This kid was seriously so cute Wei Wuxian thought he might have to sit on his hands to avoid reaching out and pinching his cheeks.
He seemed to be thinking very hard.
Then he gave himself a quick nod, as if acknowledging the effort, and folded his little hands over his train book to say: “It’s for everyone but only one at a time. That’s why A-Die shows his card. So it’s my book now, but later it can be yours.”
Wei Wuxian handed over the book he had taken immediately. “I cannot fault that logic, young master….”
“Lan Yuan,” the boy said as he took the book and returned it to his stack.
“Nice to meet you, Lan Yuan. I’m Wei Ying.”
A few more customers drifted in and Wei Wuxian took care of them while his new friend Lan Yuan continued looking through books.
When it got quiet again he wandered back over to check on him.
“So Lan Yuan. Is school on Christmas break already?”
“It’s Winter break. Not everybody celebrates Christmas.”
Wei Wuxian was going to take this kid home and keep him.
“True, true, you are very wise, Young Master Lan.”
Lan Yuan closed his current book up and carefully placed it on top of his small pile.
“A-Die says people have been celebrating the solus..solsus..” He scrunched his face again and looked at Wei Wuxian.
“Solstice?”
Lan Yuan nodded. “That. People celebrated it for hundreds of years before there was Christmas so it’s not always about Christmas.”
“People celebrated the solstice for thousands of years, actually. Your A-Die sounds like he is very smart.”
Lan Yuan nodded gravely, looking at least four times his age in his solemnity.
“He is. He speaks four languages,” he said, holding up four fingers.
“How many do you speak?”
“Just two right now,” Lan Yuan said. “English and Mandarin.”
He looked at Wei Wuxian, clearly expecting a reaction, or an exclamation of shock that he was bilingual.
Wei Wuxian shrugged.
“Over a billion people can speak Mandarin, you’re not special.”
A tiny flash of irritation crossed the boys’ face before he questioned Wei Wuxian back. “Do you speak Mandarin?”
“Not even a single word,” Wei Wuxian replied. In Mandarin.
The little boy’s face broke into a smile, the first Wei Wuxian had seen on him.
“You’re funny, Wei-Gege,” he said.
The bell on the door jingled and Wei Wuxian looked up to welcome the new customer.
A man stood there. He wore a long, sweeping sky blue coat. It was the color that caught Wei Wuxian’s eye first, one didn’t often see beautifully tailored coats in that color.
But his eyes then made it up to the man’s face and he had to stop himself from making a noise.
That was the most beautiful man he had ever seen.
“A-Yuan,” the stranger called out and oh no, his voice was deep and lovely as well.
“A-Die! Ning-gege is not here!”
“I see that,” the man said.
“I apologize. A-Yuan likes to come in and visit with the Wens while I am working, I would not have sent him here if I had known it was someone new.”
“It’s good, I enjoyed the company,” Wei Wuxian said.
The man looked at him, his gaze intent.
Wei Wuxian wondered if he recognized him, but dismissed the thought quickly. He was older, face more filled out, his long hair was in a bun beneath a cap, and no one would imagine that a former successful actor would be working in a coffee shop in a tiny New England town.
He did get occasionally recognized, as he had on the train, but that woman had sat next to him for hours. And now, looking even more tired with lines of pain in his face, he would be even more unrecognizable.
The man dropped his eyes, to look at his son, and the moment passed.
“Come A-Yuan,” he said softly.
The little boy dropped to the ground, then carefully tried to put his backpack full of library books back on. He struggled with the straps, and his father came forward to help.
It brought him closer, next to the counter, and he was even more lovely up close.
Wei Wuxian gave himself a little shake, to clear his head.
He was here for a month. He had just ended a relationship. He did not need to be crushing on a man just because he was pretty.
A man with a child, even. That usually meant there was a woman involved somewhere.
A-Yuan waved once he reached the door with his tall, beautiful father.
“Goodbye, Wei-Gege!”
Wei Wuxian waved back and called to him in Mandarin: “Goodbye, young master Lan! Come back soon!”
Perhaps he imagined it, but it seemed as if the boy’s fathers eyes widened a bit. At the Mandarin? Or the name?
But the bell above the door jingled as they made their way out into the winter afternoon before he could get an answer.