#G Market Smile Club Concert

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200104 Lovelyz Jung Yein at G Market Smile Club Concert © 시작하는사랑 do not edit, crop, or remove the watermark

[ghostking-wenning]

Radishes, Chapter 2

chapter 2 babeyyy let’s party! I promise we’ll get to the actual plot soon lol

2200 words, Rated G, NingXian, modern au, farmer’s market au, gay disaster flirting, romcom? I guess?

Qionglin carefully stacked the produce crates in the trunk of his hatchback. It had been his sister Qing’s when she was in high school, but she passed it on to him when she moved to the city for university. It had been old then, and it was pretty shabby by now, but it got Qionglin from point A to point B, so he wasn’t complaining. He liked it better than the huge, noisy farm truck, anyway. That thing had the turning radius of a steam engine, and when it was cold and wet like today, the brakes made a hideous screeching sound that Qionglin could feel in his teeth. He’d considered driving that old monstrosity today, as he found himself once again laden with radishes. Luckily, through sheer stubbornness and a little clever maneuvering, he managed to fit it all in his car.

The drive to the city was peaceful, if a little boring. But Qionglin liked driving. In the car, he was finally, truly alone. He could sing along to the radio, and laugh aloud at the DJ’s corny jokes without fear of being seen or judged, or worse. When he was in school, he’d been bullied constantly. He had been tall and gangly, all limbs and very little grace; coupled with his stutter, his shyness, and his below-average grades, he was the perfect target. He’d had to learn to keep his head down, keep a straight face, keep quiet to avoid torment. Several years and lots of therapy later, he still struggled to express himself and be open with others, even his family. Slow progress is still progress, he reminded himself.

It had started to rain in earnest by the time he pulled into the market plaza. Working quickly, he pitched the canopy and unloaded the car. He had almost blissfully forgotten about all the radishes, until he was stacking them on the table again. Qionglin had always thought of himself as a patient, tolerant person-- a pushover, his sister would say-- but these radishes were really starting to get on his nerves. At least he could be sure they were the tastiest damn radishes in this whole market.

He finished setting up, and surveyed the rest of the market. Usually more of the vendors were set up by now, but perhaps they’d been delayed by the weather. It looked like it would be a slow day today. He sighed and sat in his folding chair, and watched as the market plaza slowly came to life. Nearly an hour passed before the first customers arrived to mill about the stalls, contemplating heirloom vegetables and artisanal soaps. After a few more hours, Qionglin happily tidied the stack of bills in his cashbox. For all his awkwardness, he had no trouble selling his produce. His vegetables were one of the few things he was proud of, and thus one of the few things he could talk about easily. 

But frankly, the produce spoke for itself. He had several regulars already who kept coming back for his peas and cabbages and whatnot. Even the radishes were popular, but they were so large, most people only bought a few at a time. The pile of them loomed quietly beside him. He pointedly avoided looking at them, and instead indulged in a little people-watching between customers. He spotted a teenager wearing a studded jacket and black boots, and was suddenly reminded of the handsome stranger he’d met the week before. Wei Wuxian... It wasn’t the first time he’d thought of that chance encounter in the last few days; he’d made such a fool of himself it was hard to forget. He’d also had trouble forgetting that incredible smile. He did say he was coming again this week… so I guess I can’t have screwed up too bad. 

When he took a break for lunch, he texted Qing. Just a quick “Hey how are you?” that she was probably too busy to answer right now. He thought about going to visit her when he was done for the day, but eventually decided against it. Qing didn’t care for surprise visits, she insisted on having a routine.  

He and Qing had been inseparable as children. After their parents passed, they were taken in by their grandparents out in the countryside. It had taken them both a long time to adjust, but it had been much harder on Qing. She never quite took to living in the country as well as Qionglin had.

When she graduated high school, she’d considered taking a year off before university, but Qionglin wouldn’t hear of it. He knew she was worried about him, knew she didn’t want to leave him behind, and he didn’t really want her to, either... but he couldn’t stand the thought of her putting her dreams on hold for him. He insisted he didn’t need her to protect him anymore, that her happiness was more important. They had fought about it all summer, but in the end, Qing relented. The day she left for the city, they both cried for hours. It was a bitter memory, but Qionglin chuckled a little thinking about it. It had been one of the first fights he’d ever won. One of the only ones.

He texted Qing again: “Miss you. Call me soon?” She didn’t answer. He would just have to wait until their next scheduled video chat. Qionglin sighed as he put away his lunch box and turned his attention back to the market. He busied himself tidying baskets of potatoes and bundles of herbs. The crowd was thinning now, and the rain was still pouring. Qionglin didn’t mind the rain, but it did sometimes steer his thoughts toward melancholy and a sad kind of wistfulness. He was so used to being on his own that he didn’t register the feeling as loneliness. He sighed again. I should do something fun tonight. Maybe I’ll bake something. That should cheer me up. 

“Hey, Farmer Wen!” A cheerful voice shook him from his reverie. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Qionglin jumped. He turned to see Wei Wuxian strolling breezily into his market tent. Oh no, Qionglin thought, as if part of him hadn’t been looking forward to this exact moment for the better part of an hour. Wuxian lowered the hood of his jacket and swept his long hair forward. Today he wore it in a loose braid, revealing a streak of red that Qionglin hadn’t noticed before. His clothes were damp from the rain, but he seemed elegantly unbothered. Somehow, even a worn knit sweater and faded jeans looked like high fashion on him. Oh no.

“Oops,” Wuxian said, stifling a little laugh, “Looks like I startled you this time.” 

“H… um, h-- h--” Qionglin cursed himself for getting stuck on the very first word. He shut his eyes and took a breath. It’s fine, don’t panic! Just pick a new word... Wuxian was patient as Qionglin collected himself. 

“… Greetings!” He finally said. Great choice, dork.

“How have you been?” Wuxian asked, idly picking up a head of cabbage and turning it over in his hands. He still wore his silver skull ring and woven bracelet, but today he had added several more rings, thinner and daintier than the skull.

“Uh… me? I’ve been fine I guess. S-same as ever. What about you?” He wished he’d had something more to say, but it wasn’t like he got up to much outside of work. Wuxian didn’t seem like he’d be interested in things like tree grafts and crop rotation. Quinglin had hobbies, he supposed; he liked archery and cooking, but he hadn’t had time for archery lately, and cooking was more of a necessity than a hobby. Nothing special.

“Fine, you guess? Huh.” Wuxian mulled over his bland response, eyebrows knitted together slightly like he was dissatisfied somehow. For a moment Qionglin worried he’d press the issue and he’d have to reveal just how boring he was. Thankfully, Wuxian had already moved on. 

“I’ve been doing great, myself!” He said, casually circling the table between them. “Had a pretty good week, y’know? Finished a big commission, had dinner with my sister, met someone... interesting.” He glanced sidelong at Qionglin and watched him completely miss the hint. With a sly little smile, he added, “And I’ve got a show coming up, so that’ll be fun.”

“Oh, that all sounds nice... What kind of show are you going to?” Qionglin asked, clueless, but politely interested.

“A rock concert,” Wuxian answered vaguely, picking up a long stick of burdock and twirling it in his fingers.

“Cool!” Qionglin said, sincerely and maybe a little loudly. His anxiety gave way to eager curiosity. “I like music. Haha, of course I do, who doesn’t like music?” He caught himself before he could start rambling. Focus! “Who-- uh, who’s playing?”

“I am.” With a hand on his hip, head held high and an effortlessly confident smirk playing across his lips, he was the very picture of coolness to Qionglin.

“Whoa! Really?” Qionglin’s face lit up. “I should’ve guessed you were a rockstar! Now that I think of it, you totally look like one…” He hadn’t meant to say that last part aloud, but before he could panic about it, Wuxian’s expression melted into a bashful, yet somehow radiant grin. In an instant he’d gone from incredibly cool to unbelievably cute. If Qionglin wasn’t blushing wildly before, he definitely was now. Oh no, he thought again. I’m doomed.

“Wha-- You really think so?” He asked, clearly flustered by the praise. His silvery eyes glittered.

It was too late to take it back, Qionglin had to commit. “Um, well, yeah! With the long hair and the piercing and the stylish clothes and all…” He fidgeted a little, worrying at the hem of his sleeve. Is this… flirting? Am I doing it right?

“Wow, thank you! That’s really sweet of you to say,” Wuxian beamed. “I, uh, I’m afraid I might’ve oversold it already though… My band isn’t exactly famous or anything. We mostly play clubs and stuff. Rockstar might be too strong a word.” He said, self-effacingly. 

“S-still! It’s cool that you’re in a band. What do you play?” Qionglin asked, still gazing admiringly.

“I’m the lead singer, but I also play guitar and sometimes keyboard. I play flute too, but that’s not very punk-rock, you know?” Wuxian laughed. “Do you play anything? Or sing?”

Qionglin laughed too, a little bitterly. “Only when I’m alone in the car. I think I’d die of embarrassment if anyone ever heard me… I uh, tried to learn violin when I was in school, but I was terrible. I couldn’t get the hang of sheet music either. I can’t even imagine being on a stage...” He shuffled his feet on the ground, and finally managed to tear his eyes away from Wuxian. He remembered how frustrating music had been, how the notes and lines seemed to swim across the page, jumbling into meaningless noise. They might as well have been hieroglyphs, for all the sense they made to him. Thinking about it too hard would give him a headache.

“Hmm,” Wei Wuxian said, pulling Qionglin back into the present. He didn’t say anything for a while, just looked at Qionglin appraisingly. “Well, you’re definitely handsome enough to be on stage. Might look better with your hair up though, so people can see your cute face.” He fished around in his pockets for a minute, totally oblivious to Qionglin’s thunderstruck expression. “Ah!” He said at last. “Here.” He offered Qionglin a red hair tie.

Qionglin could only stare, still trying to process what he’d just heard. Suddenly, it dawned on him that he might’ve been the interesting someone Wuxian had mentioned meeting. After what felt like several whole minutes, he took the hair tie, and tried to ignore the quiet frisson he felt as their fingers just barely brushed together. His internal monologue was reduced to incoherent screaming.

“Thank you…” he finally forced out. “I don’t think… anyone’s ever called me uh, that before…” he mused. Clumsily, he gathered the top layer of his hair back into a short half-ponytail. “Um… H-- how’s that?” His voice was so quiet he barely heard himself. Or maybe it was just drowned out by the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

“Well, I can’t tell when you look at the ground like that!” Wuxian chuckled. Qionglin looked up at him, but couldn’t meet his eyes. He opted to focus on his silver piercing instead, then panicked when his eyes wandered to Wuxian’s lips. He dropped his gaze to the collar of his jacket. Wuxian examined him for another drawn-out moment. Qionglin briefly wondered if anyone had ever actually died of embarrassment or if he’d be the first. He nibbled on his lower lip, trying to think of what to say next, but his head was full of static. 

Thankfully he didn’t have to think too hard. “Hm, yep. Much better. Red’s a good color on you.” Wuxian said decisively. He finally looked away, and even he looked a little sheepish now. “I uh… guess I should actually do my shopping now, huh?” He cleared his throat and turned to look through the vegetables.

“Mn…” Qionglin answered. He shuffled back behind his counter and sat, still a little dazed. A couple minutes later, Wuxian plunked his picks on the counter. He paid and tucked his veggies into his backpack, the silence stretching between them. 

Under the table, Qionglin clenched his fists on his lap. Just go for it! Say something! Taking a deep breath to strengthen his resolve, Qionglin looked back up at him, green eyes meeting silver. He could swear Wuxian was blushing too. “S-see you next week?” 

Wuxian’s smile felt like a sunrise. “Yeah!” He said. “Absolutely.”

[cre8tiveaudio]

Obituary for My Brother Rano

“I may be born as a beauty

or maybe as a beast

but I will die for truth”

 (Serrano G. Sianturi)

 The architect of the Sacred Rhythm music festival and the founder of Sacred Bridge Foundation, Serrano Gara Sianturi, passed away on the 26th of January 2019 in his hometown, Jakarta, Indonesia, at the age of 58, leaving a wife and two sons. 

Serrano had battled an extreme pancreatic cancer known as neuroendocrine carcinoma or small cell carcinoma. At the time of his formal diagnosis in August 2018 at the National University Hospital Singapore, the cancer cells had already spread rapidly to the lungs and brain. Professor Lawrence Ho, a senior consultant there who helped in finalizing the diagnosis, mentioned to family members that Serrano had had the same cancer to which Steve Jobs, the CEO of Apple, succumbed. With the expertise, guidance and warm hospitality from a great medical team led by Dr. Chee Cheng Ean, specialist and program director in medical oncology, Serrano’s wish was granted to be moved to Jakarta to share the time remaining with his loved ones, family and friends.

“He was a true fighter and was very lucky to have a loving family by his side throughout his journey” (Dr. Chee Cheng Ean)

Known to many simply as Rano, he was “the Heart and Soul” (LTTW, 2019[1]) of Sacred Bridge Foundation, a not-for-profit organisation based in Jakarta which focused on bridging cultures and making the world a better place through a harmonious relationship between man and nature; to reach this ideal necessitated faith in the integration of culture, economics, and politics. Of these, culture was of utmost importance. In Rano’s own terms, as a cultural economist, he reminded us that it is time to give culture a chance where economics and politics alone have often failed to provide solutions.

Though officially founded in 1998, according to Stephen Hill, who at that time served as the Director of the Jakarta Regional Office of UNESCO, they had been collaborating for two years including censor-challenging concerts in support of international percussion music in the period shortly before the New Order Indonesian Government of President Soeharto fell in the revolution of May 1998. This was a time when freedom of expression was politically severely constrained with communities tightly controlled, the early work using cultural expression to push the boundaries of rights and protest (Hill, S., 2019).

Rano felt that this crisis period was the right time to respond by establishing a foundation that could facilitate the urgency to regain mental strengths and trust within the communities. Utilizing creativity through the Arts was a powerful medium to heal the wounds, to exercise freedom of expression and to break down boundaries in order to establish respect and mutual understanding.

In response to the Aceh Tsunami of December 2004, the Sacred Bridge and UNESCO organised a field project called ‘Rising Above the Tsunami’ whose primary aim was to heal the trauma experienced, particularly by orphaned children, utilising the intangible cultural heritage as one of the society’s self-reliant supportive systems. Acehnese traditional performers were trained to incorporate local song and dance in a disciplined way and nurture a life-long sense of arts. The impact was powerful - the children were able to smile again and their communities quite literally came alive. The film, 'Rising Above the Tsunami’ was shown to the collected Ambassadors of the World (around 190) at the UNESCO General Conference in October 2005 in Paris; many in the audience were moved to tears. The film was later shown in New York.

Rising Above the Tsunami in Aceh, Indonesia.

 As a core element of the foundation, an International Sacred Music Concert, the ‘Sacred Rhythm’, was inaugurated as a Millennium celebration at midnight December 31, 1999 in Bali. This evolved into a series of festivals opening doors to global musical friendships and included participants Stomu Yamash’ta, Farafina, Vikku Vinayakram, Mor Thiam, I Nyoman Astita and many more. 

Later finding a new home in Kyoto, Japan, the UNESCO-sponsored event utilised the creativity of dozens of renowned musicians from five continents to bring together people from different faiths, nationalities and walks of life. By re-uniting humanity and nature, and upholding culture, the rising sun of the twenty-first century was embraced. Music then became a focal point of cultural development more than twenty years after the World Conference on Cultural Policies. Rano, as the main organiser and inspiration, together with Stephen Hill, Philippe Delanghe and Stomu Yamash’ta believed it was time to make a statement.

Sacred Rhythm: The Millennial Percussion for Unison in Bali, Indonesia (1999-2000).

 Sacred Rhythm in Kyoto, Japan

“Collaboratively, they wanted to show to the world - on behalf of the United Nations - that if we are to reflect on the next one thousand years, this must be in spiritual and human terms, not commercial” (Hill et all, p. vi, preface Kyoto Manifesto, 2018)

 “Use Cultural Currencies for equality and understanding” (Serrano G. Sianturi)

Rano spent almost a quarter of his life in the United States of America pursuing his education. A Bachelor degree in Architecture Engineering from Milwaukee School of Engineering in 1981 was followed two years later with a Masters degree in Earthquake Engineering at MIT. Returning to Indonesia, he joined the university Civil Engineering faculty, subsequently accepting the invitation to work with the then Directorate of Public Buildings of the Ministry of Public works. During this time, he trained and supervised the research of many Indonesian volcanologists.  In 1988, he resigned from both organizations and returned to MIT to pursue a completely different course of education - gaining a post-graduate economics degree specializing in Cultural Economics.

Upon his return to Indonesia in 1991, Rano immediately established an economic and marketing advisory firm and served major multinational companies including Citibank, NTT, Club Med, Price Waterhouse, WWF, Jardine, Allied Queensland Coalfield, Fuji Bank International, as well as national companies such as the Jakarta Stock Exchange, Elnusa, and Telkom. 

After seven years practicing as an economic consultant, he decided to pursue his long-time interest in cultural economics. He then established the Sacred Bridge where the foundation focused on action research works and model making covering five domains: Cultural Education for the Young, Cultivation of Roots Arts, Intercultural Dialogue, Capacity Building, and New Media. Since his involvement in the Foundation, Rano conducted research and field programs in Indonesia that included Aceh, Nias, Jakarta, West Java, Borobudur, East Kalimantan, South Sulawesi, Bali, and West Papua. Sacred Bridge itself was the first UNESCO counterpart in the field of culture. In addition to the field works, Serrano managed to consult and write for international journals as well as give academic lectures at many well-respected universities in the US, UK, and Japan, with focus on cultural economics.

His inspirations, achievements and contributions for Indonesia and beyond are immeasurable but he never worked for personal recognition. He was critical of the narrow and seemingly opportunistic viewpoints of many Indonesian academics and institutions in various fields and challenged them to aspire to a higher level of understanding and interpretation for the betterment of the country and humanity. While battling the cancer, Rano mentioned in several occasions that his unfinished book title ‘Economics for Humanity’ became the least important for many reasons, but one reason that stood out as a reflection of his faith in the young generations to come, he said their books would be far more important than his.

On many occasions, while reading local newspapers, Rano said to his eldest son, Boo-boo Sianturi, now the chairman of the foundation, “Hey, they’re my ideas, that’s my writing, completely plagiarized”. He then continued, “Oh well, that’s okay, as long as they learn things the right way, understanding the importance of fundamentals…and so on, let the people learn, let the nation learn”. Rano stressed the importance of understanding contexts and fundamentals challenging their credibility on ethical grounds. In his view, the most respected profession is teaching; not only are adequate knowledge and experience required but teaching also comes with a set of responsibilities.

“Serrano Sianturi, he was my best friend and hero of his mother country”, Stomu Yamash’ta (founding member of Sacred Bridge foundation)

I​​​n 2013, Rano brought together Stomu Yamash’ta, Stephen Hill and I Nyoman Astita in Bali where they visited villages, exploring a possible way of developing the Cultural Centre which Rano was planning as a Sacred Bridge Initiative. What transpired instead was the development of a very fruitful partnership of Rano, Stomu and Stephen with the just established  ‘Centre for the Creative Economy’ at Doshisha University, Kyoto, and its Director, Tadashi Yagi. T​ogether, they trawled the world for four years through Annual International Symposia in Kyoto in search of the best participants for their ​planned book which sought to re-ground global economics in our core humanity and spirituality. Prior to every Symposium Stomu produced his ‘On-Zen’ performance bringing Buddhist and Shinto priests together in combined ritual in Kyoto’s Daitokuji Buddhist Temple ​- in a ceremony of peace and cross-religious care - the first time in 800 years that Buddhism and Shinto had shared in such a way. Rano had brought Stephen and Stomu together in the first place – via the meeting in Bali, and spoke at the first International Symposium in June 2014, but unfortunately, after that, was too ill to participate any more.

                                       Rano with Stephen Hill

                                Rano with Stomu Yamash’ta.

The book “The Kyoto Manifesto for Global Economics - The Platform of Community, Humanity and Spirituality” resulted from this collaboration and was published internationally last year by Springer. Under Stomu’s inspiration, Stephen designed the structure of the book as a ‘Symphony’, and then elaborated it further as a ‘Polyphony’, i.e. bringing two or more separate themes together into an overall harmony.  

“We all, however, owe Rano an enormous debt of gratitude for his humanity, vision, commitment, generosity, and inspiration. He is both our own dear friend and a friend to humanity as a whole”. (Hill et al, Kyoto Manifesto, 2018)

During the last few months of Rano’s life, he believed that the Sacred Bridge needed to continue and was convinced that the younger generations were equipped and ready to lead the foundation into the second decade of the 21st century.  On January 13, 2019, 13 days before Rano’s departure, the Sacred Bridge was marked by a “Reborn” gathering at their headquarters in Jakarta. The word “Reborn” itself was inspired by the Sacred Rhythm II (Reborn Unison) concert that took place in Bali last August 2018.  

               Sacred Rhythm: Reborn Unison in Bali, Indonesia. (2018)

 Now, almost twenty years after the first Sacred Rhythm, Rano believed that it was time to elaborate the statement. Reborn Unison emphasises the need to work together for culture to become both driver and enabler of human development, sustainable development, or the upholding of continuous and inclusive improvement of human well-being. It is this old way that is cherished by Sacred Rhythm II (Reborn Unison), paving the ground for a new generation of artists, scientists, and spiritual activists to come together, shaping and spreading the message of culture through their world-wide networks.

Bintang Perkasa, who is now the programme director, concludes Rano’s view that in the eyes of Sacred Bridge, “reborn” is not merely rebirth, but also rethinking and revisiting its fundamental values based on guidance of the past and present life to re-focus (including re-evaluate) the foundation towards the future. He further emphasizes Rano’s own words that “changes can only happen on the ground,” capturing the very spirit of Sacred Bridge “Reborn”. This will be manifested in its plan to return to fieldwork, the change initiated and agreed by Rano himself with the acknowledgment and consent of the active founders.

Rano, Rest in the Peace You Deserve. The Peace of Love – the guiding light of your life!

Stephen Hill                                                                                                             

26thJanuary 2019

   Sources:

Hill et al, Kyoto Manifesto, 2018

Email exchanges (Boo-boo and Stephen), 2018-2019

Email exchanges (Boo-boo and Dr. Chee), 2019-03-02

LTTW, 2019 (http://www.listentotheworld.net/human-voices/serrano-g-sianturi-the-heart-and-soul-of-sacred-bridge/)

Sacred Bridge Web, 2019 (http://www.sacredbridge.org/the-bridge/history/)

 [1] LTTW, Obituary SGS news, 2019 (http://www.listentotheworld.net/human-voices/serrano-g-sianturi-the-heart-and-soul-of-sacred-bridge/)

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[ghostking-wenning]

Radishes, Chapter 3

This chapter took me like a week to write... and the day I finished it, I wrote all of chapter 4 at once! I hope I’ve been doing a decent job portraying a character with a stutter, and I hope that I’ve been more or less tonally consistent... Let me know! Enjoy 💕👻

2200 words, rated G, NingXian, modern au, first date, et cetera

Qionglin glanced at his phone, yet again. The last time they’d met, Wuxian had slipped him a little note with his number on it, signed with a little “x”. For two days, he’d agonized over what to say; usually the only person he texted was Qing. He drafted more than a dozen messages, each time panicking and closing the app. Eloquent as ever, he finally opted for “Hi, it’s Qionglin.” He paced back and forth in his bedroom, waiting anxiously for a response. Did I wait too long? Maybe he thought I didn’t want to talk to him. What if I already blew it? I should’ve said something else... He caught sight of his face in the mirror: his cheeks were flushed and his brows were drawn so tight he was giving himself a headache. 

“Relax,” he told his reflection sternly. He took a deep breath and sighed, sinking into his desk chair. “I’m being ridiculous. It’s just a text message. Worst case scenario is he doesn’t answer.” Sometimes it helped to remind himself that things were rarely as dire as they felt. “Most likely, he’ll answer. He wouldn’t have given me his number otherwise, right?” He reasoned to the empty air. “Best case scenario…” He pondered a moment. What was the best thing that could happen? What did he want to happen? Shaking his head, he decided it was best not to hope for too much. 

He spun in his chair a few times, trying to fill the waiting. It was too early to make dinner, but too late to do much else. With little else to distract him from staring restlessly at his phone, he flicked on the TV and channel-surfed for a while. Eventually he dozed off, still sitting at his desk. A loud buzz jolted him awake. 

“Oh god,” he gasped, clapping a hand over his heart. He snatched up his phone. 1 New Message. 

“Oh god,” he said again.

A crimson-colored chat bubble read: “Hey you! :)”

Qionglin’s heart did a somersault. Logically, he knew it was absurd to get so worked up over a text message, but something about Wuxian made him feel pretty absurd. Though they’d only met a few times, Qionglin caught himself idly (and frequently) thinking about the way Wuxian’s hair swayed when he walked, or how his eyes sparkled when he cracked a joke. He’d been avoiding putting a name to this feeling, but it was starting to look like a full-blown, schoolgirl-style crush -- his first ever. He could feel the blush blooming on his cheeks. Who knew it’d be so embarrassing to have a crush?

His phone buzzed again.

“What are you doing on Friday?” 

If his heart was somersaulting before, it was doing a full acrobatics show now. Calm down, don’t overthink it… don’t get ahead of yourself… just answer the question.

“Just working. Why?” After a moment, he added a smiley face. That’s how normal people talk, right? He hit send before he could somehow fuck it up.

The three little dots appeared at the bottom of the window as Wuxian typed. Qionglin watched with bated breath as it disappeared and reappeared a couple of times. Maybe Wuxian was as nervous as he was? The thought was vaguely gratifying, however unlikely. 

Another red bubble appeared: “Wanna come to my show? I’ll give you the VIP tour ;)”

A wink! Surely that had to be a good sign!

“I’d love to!” Qionglin typed, then erased. Too strong. Be casual. He tried again. “Yeah, that’d be great!” 

“Awesome! Doors at 8, I’ll let them know you’re coming. Can’t wait!” Wuxian said, followed by a map link.

Qionglin realized he was grinning like an idiot, and he didn’t care. “I look forward to it! See you Friday!!” 

The next couple of days seemed to drag by. It wasn’t that often Qionglin had something so exciting to look forward to. He powered through his chores and farmwork, and all his downtime was spent restlessly thinking about Friday. 

Friday afternoon, he wrapped up early. He took a long, refreshing shower and pulled his hair back the way Wuxian seemed to like so much. Arms crossed, he stood in front of the wardrobe, tsk-ing softly at the rows of coarse fabrics in greens, greys, blacks and browns. Almost all of his clothes were work clothes, faded and worn; hardly rock-concert-worthy. He fished out his least-shabby pair of jeans, and a sage-colored button-down. Fashion was definitely not one of his strong suits, but as he checked his reflection, he thought he looked… decent, at least.

He drove into the city, buzzing with excitement the whole way. The radio wasn’t even on, but he was humming a cheerful tune and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. Before he knew it, he was scouting out a parking spot a few blocks from the venue, an old nightclub called Devil’s Den. If Wuxian’s band was playing there, Qionglin figured it must be the coolest place in town. 

Checking his watch, he saw he was more than an hour early. He wasn’t familiar with this part of town, so he strolled around until he found somewhere he could hang around for a while. Halfway up the street was a charming little cafe that boasted “Best Milk Tea In Town!” on the banner over the door. It seemed as good a place as any to kill an hour. 

As it turned out, the milk tea was great! Not that Qionglin had much of a reference point. He really only came to the city for the farmer’s market, or to visit Qing. Had he ever come out here just for fun? He’d certainly never been invited out just for fun before now, which probably should have been a distressing realization. In any case, he was here now, and he was determined to have a great night. 

8 o’clock drew nearer and he began to feel antsy. According to the map, Devil’s Den wasn’t far, but he didn’t want to be late, so he set out with a few extra minutes to spare. The sun was beginning to set behind him as he arrived, casting long shadows over the door that were quite apropos for a place with such a macabre name. From the outside, it really didn’t look like much. The windows were shuttered and painted black, and over the door was a small, plain sign bearing its name. Qionglin was almost a little disappointed, but maybe the inside would be more fun.

There were a few other people already milling about outside, so Qionglin joined them and tried to look like he belonged there. After a bit, a large, scowling man with a shaved head and a nose ring came out of the club and stood beside the door, propping it open. A black T-shirt printed with the word “SECURITY” stretched taut over his burly shoulders and chest. He held a clipboard in his hand.

“Y’all here for the show? Get in line.” The security guard said curtly. “Doors in five.”

Qionglin and the small crowd of strangers lined up and waited for the guard to wave them in.

“ID?” He said, when Qionglin reached him.

“Huh? Oh! Right…” Qionglin pulled out his wallet and fumbled for his driver’s license. “H-here…”

“Wen Qionglin…” The guard read, scanning his clipboard. “VIP, eh? Don’t look like one, heh. Here ya go, kid. Yer ticket’s been paid.” He handed Qionglin a ticket printed on heavy cardstock, with red lettering. “Go inside and turn left.” He waved Qionglin away.

“Um, thanks,” Qionglin mumbled as he walked in. After his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he noticed the decor; the floors were dark, polished wood, thick velvet curtains lined the windows, and a few antique Western-style chairs and ottomans stood around the foyer. Band posters and photos in old silver frames covered the walls. A pair of ornate double-doors stood at the end of the short hall, above them the word “Welcome” was written in curly script. To his left, a smaller, simpler door was labelled “Authorized Access Only”. He glanced around a little awkwardly. Was he authorized? Is that what the big red ticket was for?

Suddenly the door squeaked and swung open. Qionglin made a little startled noise and stepped back, already preparing to apologize, though he wasn’t sure what for. In the doorframe, however, stood Wei Wuxian himself, smiling brightly and dressed to kill. 

“You’re here!” He said, delighted. He reached out and grabbed Qionglin’s hand, pulling him through the door. “I’m so glad you made it!”

Qionglin was still staring. Wuxian looked amazing. His hair was pulled into a high ponytail, the colored streak peeking through the underside. He wore black jeans, fashionably torn at the knees and up the thighs, revealing fishnet tights underneath. Under his studded leather jacket, his shirt was cherry-red, sleeveless, and cropped, showing off his bare midriff. Qionglin was trying to be subtle, but he could tell he was already blushing. Oh my god.

“Wow,” he said softly. 

“What?” Wuxian asked coyly. “Do I look that good? Did I leave you speechless?” The twinkle in his eye was devilish. 

Qionglin could only nod, his cheeks blazing even hotter. How does he do that? How can he just say stuff like that without a hint of embarrassment? He wondered. 

Wuxian laughed coquettishly. “Why, thank you, you’re the sweetest. You look great too,” he added with a wink.

“I-- what? H-hardly… I, uh, don’t know much about … fashion or whatever,” Qionglin floundered. He stared down at his shoes. “You look incredible, though…” 

Wuxian giggled again, the sound refreshing as birdsong. “I do my best,” he said, feigning modesty. “Anyway, lemme give you the tour before I have to go backstage!” He took Qionglin’s hand again and pulled him along. Qionglin tried to focus on the “tour” -- really it was just a short walk through the halls to the greenroom-- but he was distracted by the heat of Wuxian’s hand in his.

“... and these are my bandmates! We’ve been playing together for like, ever.” Letting go of Qionglin’s hand, he gestured to three other people dressed like him, tuning instruments and doing warmups. “Guys, this is my friend, Qionglin.” There was the briefest pause before he said the word “friend”. Qionglin thought he must’ve imagined it.

Qionglin waved shyly. “Nice to meet you…” He was answered with a chorus of “hey”s and “what’s up”s. They didn’t pay him much more mind.

“So that’s the tour!” Wuxian concluded. “We have just a couple minutes before showtime. Let me show you to your seat.” He led Qionglin into the main part of the club, a sprawling room with a long carved bar, dozens of tables and booths, a gleaming dancefloor, and a stage set into the center of the back wall. It was much bigger than Qionglin expected, and more crowded. Wuxian steered him to a table with a direct view of the stage. “Best seat in the house,” he said, pulling the chair out. 

“Thank you,” Qionglin said as he sat. “I’m really excited. This is my first concert, you know?” 

“Oh right!” Wuxian said. “You might want these, then.” He pulled a pair of spongy ear-plugs from his pocket. “The speakers are pretty intense. Don’t worry, you’ll hear us just fine.” 

“Oh, um, got it. Thanks!” Qionglin fiddled with them a little.

“Alright, I have to go now. I’m gonna sing my heart out, just for you, okay? So you better pay attention!” He declared. He spun on his heel, his ponytail swishing as he walked away.

“Just for me…?” Qionglin whispered, watching Wuxian until he disappeared behind a heavy curtain. He swallowed heavily, his mouth suddenly dry. A server spotted him and strolled leisurely over with a carafe of water, like she’d read his mind. 

“Can I get you anything else, hun?” She asked affably. The neckline of her shirt was low, showing off tattoos of bursting fireworks across her collarbones. A pendant in the shape of a bullet drew the eye directly to her cleavage; Qionglin resolutely looked her in the eye. Her eyeliner was sharp and her lipstick was dark, but she wore a friendly smile. 

“Oh, um, I’m fine, thank you, Miss.” He answered. “Um-- your tattoos are nice.”

She laughed raspily. “Thanks! It’s a reference to an old nickname. This your first time here?” She cocked a well-groomed eyebrow.

“Yes…? H-how could you tell?” 

“The clothes, mostly. Most folks in here wear all black, and crosses and skulls or whatever. Kinda nice to see a little color. Anyway, enjoy the show! These punks are a lotta fun.” She waved over her shoulder as she walked away, heels clacking against the floorboards.

Qionglin watched the empty stage for a while. The curtains parted somewhat and a lady in a strappy dress stepped out. She adjusted the microphone, and leaned in. 

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the Devil’s Den,” she drawled. “Tonight we have a great lineup of local bands, starting with some of our favorite familiar faces. Let’s give it up for…” She paused for dramatic effect. “The Whatevers!”

Qionglin blinked, confused, but he clapped along with the rest of the cheering crowd. The curtains whooshed open, revealing Wuxian and his band. Qionglin clapped harder and waved a little. I thought they’d have a cooler name… He chuckled quietly.

The Whatevers launched right into a song. A driving guitar melody led into Wuxian’s gorgeous singing. Qionglin’s breath caught in his throat. The spotlight shone down on Wuxian, and everything else faded away. Enraptured, Qionglin stared, listening intently. The lyrics were about new beginnings and taking chances, and Qionglin swore Wuxian was looking directly at him the whole time.