Work Text:
“Jie,” Wen Qing’s normally mild-mannered didi says, interrupting what’s supposed to be her quiet relaxing time.
“I’m busy, A-Ning,” she responds, not looking up. She’d be more annoyed at him interrupting her quiet time if it weren’t for the fact that she already interrupted herself. She was planning to order takeout for lunch, then follow it up with some guilt-free reading for pleasure, but…
Well, her manuscript isn’t going to write itself, is it? It certainly isn’t going to address the last round of comments she got.
She flips the page in her e-reader, trying to remember how this novel application of cerebrospinal fluid ties into what her advisor had been pushing several years ago. It’s becoming harder to concentrate these days, given how her popo’s health has been declining. At least her extended family has been around to help take care of her.
“I don’t think you finished eating your breakfast,” A-Ning says, plunking down her bowl of fruit and a mug of what looks like reheated tea. “I thought you should eat.”
“Thanks, Didi,” she says, flashing a grateful look at her brother. He frowns as he looks at her.
“Your eyes are red,” he says, leaning closer.
“Are they?” Wen Qing closes her eyes, blinking forcefully. Now that he mentions it, her eyes feel a little dry. She looks up at the ceiling, willing her eyes to focus at a distance farther than her screen, and grimaces when it takes a few seconds. Ugh. She’s too young to be feeling this old. Besides, it’s not even midmorning yet.
A-Ning waits until she’s put in some eye drops to continue his train of thought. “Don’t you have time to relax this summer, Jie?”
“You know how research is,” Wen Qing says. “Just because I don’t have classes to supervise…”
“But haven’t you been spending too much time indoors? You’re always reminding me about stretching my legs and making sure I don’t get eye strain.” A-Ning says, his lips forming the beginnings of a frown.
Fuck. “Who taught you to back-talk your Jie, hmm?”
“I’m not talking back to you!” A-Ning denies, like the manipulative didi he is. He’s even widening his eyes, because certain terrible influences named Wei Ying have been putting unnecessary thoughts in his head about standing up for himself more often and being stubborn about things he wants. Wen Qing would be proud if he weren’t using such tactics against her, his own jie. He’s the worst.
Wen Qing huffs.
There’s nothing to say, really. Her eyes are experiencing some strain; there’s no use denying that. Her fingers are starting to cramp from how she keeps clutching her tablet, not that she would confess such a weakness to her didi. And it’s possible that her back is already aching from her ancient chair.
“Anyway,” A-Ning says, in that tone of voice that suggests that he’s just approaching the topic of his real goal. “I found these gift cards that Lan Zhan gave us. Remember?”
Oh. Those gift cards. Yes, of course Wen Qing remembers them; Lan Zhan had presented them each with a gift card to the fancy spa downtown. To be fair, he and Wei Ying had given a gift card to all of their close friends, not just the two of them. It was supposed to be an apology for turning their already casual wedding into an elopement and subsequently into a now-it-has-to-be-a-formal-thing-but-regardless-I-will-not-apologize-shufu event.
“They’re not expiring yet, are they?” Wen Qing had thought that these gift cards had at least a few months longer yet.
“Well, not yet,” A-Ning responds, clearly wishing that they were and that he could use that as a bargaining chip. “But if you don’t go…” her didi says, then flounders.
“What? You’ll make me?” The idea of Wen Ning making anyone do anything is laughable, though he’s got a stubborn streak that’s surprisingly deep on occasion.
“Maybe I’ll sit on Jiejie,” he says, a glint appearing in his eye. He takes a purposeful step towards Wen Qing, and it takes her a second to realize—oh, he’s serious. She just barely manages to set aside her e-reader before A-Ning sits on her, a forceful weight very precisely applied to her lap.
“Oof,” she wheezes as all the air is pushed out of her lungs. A sense of nostalgia wells up in her (how long has it been since they’ve played together like this?) before it is immediately quashed by her exasperation at A-Ning’s smirk.
“So cozy,” he says. “We should do this more often! I could sit here all day.”
“Get off,” Wen Qing says, futilely trying to shove her brother out of her lap. “A-Ning, what, come on,” but he doesn’t budge at all.
“I’m being your weighted blanket,” he informs her. “You need to relax. And if you‘re not going to use that gift card, then I’ll bring the relaxation to you.”
To her credit, Wen Qing considers the option. She’s only sort of out of breath, anyway, and if she can manage to read her e-reader, then—
Nope. She can’t reach it, now that A-Ning is intentionally blocking her from her work.
“Would you like some aromatherapy options?” he asks, then waves her half-finished orange in front of her face.
“I have work,” she insists while trying to fend him off, and A-Ning shakes his head.
“I know you have a lot of reading, but none of it is going to expire. You can take the rest of the day off, I’m sure.”
“I can’t reach my tea,” she tries, and A-Ning looks between her and her tea.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and he manages to sound apologetic even as he squishes one more breath of air out of her. “It’s really for your own good, Jie. But I bet that spa would have all the tea and fancy water you’d like!”
——
It’s not that A-Ning is heavy, Wen Qing reflects as he drives them to their appointments. It’s that A-Ning has weaponized his puppy eyes, and that he’s really figured out how to appeal to her sensible nature. She takes another second to mentally chastise Wei Ying, and then she reconsiders.
After all, without him, there wouldn’t be this fancy spa gift card in her hand right now, worth approximately her research assistant budget for the summer. She knows that he got some sort of hefty discount—something to do with family connections, either on his side or Lan Zhan’s— but she’s afraid to look up the exact value nonetheless. She’s even more afraid once they walk in and see that every surface is either glass, gold, or black marble. A-Ning sucks in a gasp beside her.
Wen Qing wants to stare in awe as well, but she’s already feeling self-conscious in her practical sneakers and lack of name-brand anything. The receptionist at the desk is smiling warmly at them both, though, and Wen Qing strides forward purposefully, as if she has the right to be there. She does have the right to be there.
“We’ve booked two appointments for this afternoon,” she says.
“Ah yes, Wen Qing and Wen Ning?” The receptionist’s pronunciation is surprisingly accurate, and Wen Qing feels her shoulders lower. She hadn’t even realized she’d braced for “Queeng When” until that moment.
“Yes, that’s us,” Wen Qing says.
“Great!” The receptionist makes a note on the computer, then looks up at them both. “Let me lead you towards the closets and showers—take as long as you like, of course—and then someone will be ready to meet you on the other side. It looks like you’ll have separate rooms for your hot stone massages and detoxifying treatments, and then if you don’t mind having your hand and foot treatments together, we can do that at the end.”
Wen Qing nods, mentally calculating how much that might cost if she had to pay for it herself, before A-Ning elbows her. “Stop worrying, Jie!”
She rolls her eyes as they’re led through a long, well-lit hallway.. “I’m not worrying.”
She’s not. She’s just… thinking, is all. They’re past the days (years, really) where they’ve had to calculate every penny, where a week’s worth of lunches and dinners might be the same assortment of frozen vegetables and rice, just prepared in different ways, and supplemented by whatever free meals they could scrounge up on campus. They’re still a long way off from casually going to spas, though, especially spas as nice as this one.
She forces herself to take a deep breath, then smiles conspiratorially at her didi. She has an all-expenses-paid certificate and she’s going to enjoy it, dammit.
“Take notes on the fanciest and most outrageous things you see,” she says. “We’ll have to compare notes afterwards, okay?”
A-Ning’s eyes crinkle. “I will, Jie,” he promises. “You too. The ladies always get the fancier stuff, anyway.”
He’s shown to what seems like a private closet door at the end of the hallway; she apparently has one right across from his. The receptionist opens the door for Wen Qing—whoa, it’s huge, actually—then gestures to the shower inside. “These changing stations are just for your use, so you can leave anything you’d like here.”
Wen Qing peeks in, then steps fully through. The receptionist stays outside.
“Feel free to shower if you’d like, and then when you’re ready, you can just change into those robes and press that bell. Is there anything else I can get you in the meantime?”
Wen Qing thinks back to her breakfast and her missed tea. “Something to drink, perhaps?”
The receptionist smiles. “We don’t have anything alcoholic, of course, but we have some water infused with lemon, mint, and strawberry. I’d be happy to fetch some for you; would you prefer sparkling or still?”
Eh, she’s already here. “Sparkling, please,” she says, and the receptionist nods.
“We’ll have it waiting on the other side for you. It’s important you stay hydrated! We’ll send some to your brother, too,” she adds, when Wen Qing opens her mouth to ask if A-Ning can have some too. They’ve really thought of everything.
“Thanks,” Wen Qing says, and finally, finally! She gives herself permission to mentally relax for the first time in years.
——
Wen Qing can’t help the long drawn-out sigh of satisfaction when she steps under the rainfall shower head. The shower itself is gorgeous, all marble and glass, with lighting that manages to feel both expensive and natural. The soap lathers quickly, forming a luxurious foam that smells like ginger and citrus.
She takes her time in the shower, lathering up her arms and legs a second time, just for the pure joy of enjoying the bubbles and the scent. It would be easy to stay in the water for hours, but she drags herself into a towel—a warm, fluffy towel!—and into the bathrobe with the consolation that at least she’ll get to see what else is out there.
Her sparkling fancy water is laid out by a pair of spa-branded slippers, and Wen Qing gulps down several mouthfuls without even tasting it. She’d probably spent too much time in the shower. She sips the rest of it as she slides her feet into the slippers.
Not bad.
Feeling far more refreshed, she presses the bell for service. A chipper young lady appears, leading her to where she’ll experience a hot-stone massage. Wen Qing lays face-down as the masseuse explains how the massage oil is carefully sourced from some rare flower. She’s not really listening—first, she’s got to figure out how to breathe comfortably, with the weird face-sized hole—and when she tunes back in, the masseuse is talking about some sort of lymphatic drainage massage after the hot stones.
“Sounds good,” Wen Qing says when there’s a pause, because she is not entirely sure about how scientific the words she’s hearing actually are, but she’s already here and unwilling to pass up the full spa experience. Besides, A-Ning would stare sadly at her if she turned her research brain back on. “Whatever you recommend.”
“And is it okay if I place my hands on your lower back? You can stop me whenever you’re uncomfortable!”
Wen Qing nods, then grunts out an affirmative when her head feels like it’s stuck in place. “I’ll stop you if it feels bad, don’t worry.”
“Great!” the masseuse says, and then turns up some Chinese-inspired music with a zither and gongs. The lights are turned down, and Wen Qing is covered with a warm towel. The masseuse steps away, presumably to fetch the hot stones and other equipment she might need, and Wen Qing breathes in the faintly grassy scent in the air.
It smells nice, and it doesn’t take long before Wen Qing feels like she could become one with the mat underneath here. This is probably what happens when she spends too many hours in her ancient chair that doesn’t have any lumbar support. She rolls up her shoulders, feeling for any sore muscles, then relaxes them. Tense, then release. Tense, then release.
Bliss.
She must fall asleep, because the next thing she feels is cool air on her back. It feels refreshing, and she flexes her arms and legs.
“Ah, hope you had a nice rest!”
Wen Qing twitches; she hadn’t realized her masseuse was still in the room with her, but then she feels hands lifting the rest of the hot stones. She must have had company all along. Wen Qing tries to turn to see, but her view is hampered by the face pillow thing. “Yeah, I’m feeling great,” she manages to say,
“Good timing, actually,” her masseuse says from the vicinity of her feet somewhere. “You’ll be awake for a quick hydration treatment and then you’ll be about ready to start on the detoxifying treatment next. We’ll do something similar afterwards, but I wasn’t sure whether to wake you up or not to explain all these parts.”
Wen Qing flexes her arms, rolling her neck from side to side. She hadn’t realized how restrictive her range of motion had become. Incredible.
Her contentment only increases after feeling the luxury of being rubbed down with some sort of serum from head to toe—Wen Qing can see why people pay actual money for this experience, it’s divine. She feels so relaxed she doesn’t want to move. She makes a noise of discontent when the masseuse mentions that the mud wrap rooms are next door, not even feeling embarrassed about it, and the masseuse laughs in response.
“I’m glad I did a good job,” she says brightly, and Wen Qing turns her face so that her own smile is evident. “Let’s give you a few moments to rest, and when you’re ready, I can show you where the mud wrap rooms are. I can fetch you some more water, too; don’t forget to stay hydrated!”
It’s the promise of water that finally tempts Wen Qing into sitting up. Amazingly, she feels lighter than ever. Is this what it feels like to be completely stress-free? She can’t think about it too hard or she won’t be able to fully enjoy the rest of the day.
Her masseuse pops back into the room with a full pitcher of water, and after Wen Qing enjoys a few sips, they head down to the detoxifying treatment.
There’s some sort of artisanal clay involved, sourced from a fancy remote mountain range she’s never heard of. Wen Qing doesn’t really care, as long as she doesn’t have to do any work holding still as someone slathers her down in warm mud.
–
“You look much better, Jie,” A-Ning remarks as Wen Qing settles further into her black leather chair.
“Those gift cards really came in handy,” Wen Qing says. Even after the mud wrap, the luxury facial, and the gold leaf face mask, she can’t bring herself to admit how absolutely stressed out she’d been feeling. It doesn’t matter what she says, though; A-Ning just shoots her a secret little smile and takes his own place in the chair next to her.
He’s the best didi, when he’s not being the worst.
Two young ladies bustle in, carrying a tray of snacks. They set it on the small table between Wen Qing and A-Ning so that both of them can reach the decadent pile of berries, tiny cakes, and other sweet treats.
“These are for you,” one of them says, diving into explaining how their in-house chef is careful about how much sugar to add and doesn’t recommend them drinking caffeine or alcohol today. During the short description, the other young lady wheels a cart with two giant bowls of steaming water, presumably for their foot soaks.
“Good temperature?” she asks, once both of them have fully immersed their feet up to their calves.
“Yes,” A-Ning says, so fervently that she smiles.
“Great,” she says. “We’ll be helping with a foot scrub and foot massage for both of you, and your hands will go through the same process. Afterwards, you can choose between just getting a simple nail treatment or our color package, where we’ll paint your nails with whatever designs you like.”
A-Ning nods through the description as if he’s going to be quizzed on it afterwards. Wen Qing reflects that, with a friend as inquisitive as Wei Ying, there’s a high chance he will have to recount all his favorite parts.
They munch their way through the entire tray—it seems to be refilled almost instantaneously—until their now-gloved-and-moisturized hands need to be still for the final nail treatments.
“What colors would you like?” her manicurist asks Wen Qing.
Wen Qing wrinkles her nose. She’d never really liked having her nails painted. It feels suffocating. “Okay, we’ll come back to you,” her manicurist says. “And you, dear?”
A-Ning fidgets with his plastic gloves. “I-um. If Jie doesn’t want anything, then, it’s okay. I’ll just do the nail treatment. No color.”
Wen Qing squints at her brother, who is examining his fingernails and avoiding eye contact. She’d been busy with work, of course, but even so, she had noticed that A-Ning sometimes painted his nails black.
“A-Ning,” Wen Qing says, testing her theory that perhaps A-Ning was being shy, or worse, worried about her judgment. “You should paint your nails. Black, maybe, or a dark red. You can pick out designs if you like.”
He raises his head to look at her, and Wen Qing is struck by the fact that it’s been a while since she’s seen her brother ask for something for himself, too. Groceries, clothing, and everything else; he’d been willing to go along with her plans to only pick items that were the best value. Maybe she’d gone a little overboard, if he’s still feeling nervous about expenses. Just because she keeps reminding the both of them to eat bitter so that they’ll be successful in the future, that doesn’t mean that he should never get to treat himself.
“Are you sure?” he asks, and Wen Qing rolls her eyes.
“Jie will be mad if you turn down professional expertise,” she says, instead of telling him that she wants him to be happy, that he deserves it, that she’s working so hard these days so they can have a better life and if a better life includes nail polish for her didi, then so be it.
“Okay,” he says, and he sounds genuinely happy. “Okay, if Jie says so.”
—
They’re walking out to their car, A-Ning admiring his all-black manicure with a subtle red stripe adorning his ring fingernail. It looks nice. His happiness is even nicer; his face shining with a contentment that Wen Qing rarely sees.
Wen Qing feels her phone vibrate with a text message, and as she slides into the passenger seat, she thumbs it open to check.
It’s from Lan Zhan.
“Would you briefly advise me on pediatric care for a baby? Wei Ying and I are looking to adopt.”
Wen Qing looks at the text, then reads it out loud to A-Ning. He laughs. “I bet they’re holding a baby right now and suddenly wanted one of their own,” he says.
She sighs. “I thought they were going to steal A-Yuan from right under Popo’s nose,” she says, thinking of her baby cousin. With a sigh, she pulls her phone back and begins typing a response about inoculations, general care and feeding. She makes it a few sentences before A-Ning’s phone goes off.
“Can you get that for me, Jie?” A-Ning says, and when she checks, she’s not even surprised to see a message from Wei Ying, asking if there’s anything they can do to butter up Wen Qing as the only professional they know with any sort of medical ability, please please please, they know she’s super busy but lives depend on her!!!! Possibly!!!!!
She snorts.
“I’ll answer that when I get home, Jie,” A-Ning says, “It’s not urgent.”
Wen Qing continues typing out advice to Lan Zhan, concluding with her belief that Lan Zhan and Wei Ying would be excellent parents. “You’ll be fine,” she ends the message, just as they pull up back to their place.
She hits send as they walk in the front door, then locks the door behind them as A-Ning replies to Wei Ying.
“What did you say?” she asks, curious because A-Ning looks pleased with himself.
“I just said that we really enjoyed that spa gift card,” A-Ning says innocently.
Wen Qing splutters. “That’s so much money, A-Ning, you can’t just, I don’t have time—”
“Jie,” A-Ning says, setting down his phone and steering her to the couch. “You agreed to take the day off, remember?”
He pretends not to hear her as she says emphatically that she was taking today off, not future vacations.
“No more stressing out today,” he says. “Now, why don’t you sit back and relax while I make dinner, and if you hate the idea so much, we’ll come up with something else to say to Wei Ying, okay?”
Wen Qing feels thoroughly outmaneuvered. “Fine,” she says. She’s not pouting, she’s not. She just needs some time to think of a response that is suitably fond but threatening to Wei Ying, and she can’t do it when A-Ning is looking like she’s personally betrayed him. “Okay.”
A-Ning turns towards the kitchen, then turns back towards her when he’s nearly at the door. “You do look a lot happier, Jie. I like it when you look happy. I know you work hard for us, and I appreciate it… but I want you to be happy too.” He flashes a smile at her, then continues onward.
Wen Qing topples over to lay on the couch, feeling tears prickle at the corner of her eyes. She blames her long months of stress, her incredible spa day, her wayward friends.
Or maybe, it’s just that A-Ning really is the best.