To undercut the climax, you take the offer.
You wouldn’t be here otherwise, caught in the net of something like a story.
As for why.
On some level, you knew it would be more of the same. King Death is nothing but the idea of a man, in the end, and the kind of man you know well. The living and the dead are all plagued by the same thing these days. Bureaucracy, and the banality of stupid men.
But King Death stuck his hand out to offer his deal, and thrust in the crosshairs of this kind of fate-altering choice, you took it.
He draws you close. There is fire, where his hand meets yours. It burns all the way through you, and you think about the first agreement you made with Wang Ran, the one that froze all the space between you. “It’s not such a big thing,” he tells you, gentle. “The lifespan of you humans is only so much.”
When he moves to pull back, you don’t let him.
King Death looks down, still faintly amused.
“Do I get to go home, at least?” you ask.
“Of course,” he says. “I’m offering you a job. Full benefits.”
You roll your eyes. “You haven’t made the responsibilities of the role very clear.”
King Death drops your hand. He puts his own back in his pockets, stands back in a way that radiates finality. “Enjoy the next few weeks. I’ll be in touch with your contract. We’ll get Lark to do the delivery, how about that?”
Beside him, Lark dips his head in a nod, face blanked out.
And that’s all.
King Death waves a hand. “Please make sure everyone gets out safely, Reaper Lark.”
He disappears back down the hall, behind a heavy set of double doors that bang shut after him as he goes. You stare, trying not to think about what hides within. The strong whiff of ink is all that’s left behind.
You and Wang Ran stare at each other.
When enough time has passed that it really does not seem like King Death is coming back, you collapse right on your ass next to Wang Ran, and start laughing. “Holy shit,” you say, clutching your stomach. Everything inside you feels like jelly. You wheeze, staring up at the ceiling. It’s decorated with some sort of evocation of the domain of death, interspersed with watercolour paintings of lilies.
“What the hell?” Wang Ran snaps. “What’s so funny?”
“I just fucked with death personified,” you say, then dissolve into another peel of laughs. “And then he offered me a job.”
Wang Ran’s teeth click. “Why did you say yes?”
“I don’t think it was a question.”
Wang Ran snorts. “Yeah,” he says. “Fuck.”
“No, no,” you say, waving your hand. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I hate my job. Hated? Whatever.” With a huff, Wang Ran uncurls, relaxed, his shoulder a bony jab in your side as he melts next to you.
“What happens after this?” you say. “Did I just sign up for spirit wrangling for the rest of my natural life?”
“Well,” says Wang Ran, “maybe he’ll make you babysit me.” His chin dips low into his collar. Every time he sneaks a look to you out of the corner of his eyes, you want to pull him into a hug. Maybe that’s the reason, after all. Wizard bureaucracy, hell bureaucracy, it’s all the same. At the end of the day, you just want to tip the stupid snake boy you like into a hug.
Wang Ran squawks when you follow the impulse through. “Get off—”
“No,” you say, squeezing tighter. The two of you are both boneless on the ground, it’s not exactly the best positioning, and you’re pretty sure you’re crushing his spleen with your elbow, but Wang Ran is real and solid underneath you. Even if your bodies are both flickering, him courtesy of Shine. He’s warm. He’s warm, and real, and here, and you bury your face in his neck. “I’m not hearing a thank you,” you say. “I could’ve just let them take you.”
“You wouldn’t’ve left Shine,” Wang Ran mutters.
You pull back, frowning. “You think I did this for Shine?”
Wang Ran shrugs.
“Well, okay. I would’ve hated myself if Shine got dragged down to Hell forever on my watch, sure. But—” You cut yourself off, trying to figure out the words. You sit back on your heels and smooth out the collar of Wang Ran’s now-rumpled shirt. His face is breaking out. Stress of the last month, maybe, or else Shine struggling to stick to his usual regimen. His hair is falling out of the careful style he always uses, dipping into his eyes. “You’re so dumb,” you mutter.
“Excuse me?”
“Even if it was just you,” you say gently, “I would’ve figured something out.”
Wang Ran stills. His bottom lip juts out, and he looks away. The stiffness in the lines of his body is obvious, and you simultaneously want to roll your eyes at him and never let him out of your sight ever again. He doesn’t believe you, but that’s okay.
You have time.
Behind you both, Lark clears his throat.
You do roll your eyes this time. “You can take us back, now,” you say. “Sorry for the delay.”
“No need,” Lark mutters. “I’m hoping I’ll be out of a job, soon.”
“You must be so excited.”
Lark’s lips twitch, but he stays as carefully neutral as possible. You’re thinking the two of you really need to have that drink soon, stay friends. His ability to stay separated from the demands of the job is astonishing. You’d think you’d still like to have a drink with him, consider yourself friends. It’s something you admire, though you’re rapidly finding out that despite your best attempts, you can’t quite pull off the same. As evidenced by the demon prince who currently still has a hand loosely gripping your shirt-tail.
Lark does something reaper-y with his hands that you’re too tired to interpret, and then with one touch, the world starts to spin again. A white flash, the curious sensation of falling, Wang Ran’s hand tightening in your shirt. You try and reach back, but before you can find anything, you’re back in your tiny living room, blinking in the afternoon light.
Nathaniel crashes to the ground, hands outstretched.
You look around, eyes wide. There’s still sun outside. The food on the table looks astonishingly warm. It’s like no time at all has passed.
“What the hell?” Nathaniel asks, and you pause, feeling another bubble of laughter threaten to emerge from your throat.
What the Hell indeed.
Nathaniel is placated by 1) Lark immediately vanishing from the scene—good instincts on that one—and 2) your promise to explain the entire situation to her, best as you can, as soon as you have recovered your wits to do much more than collapse against the couch and giggle helplessly to yourself.
Shine and Wang Ran are in a similar state.
Nathaniel watches with wide eyes as they bend over the kitchen counter, hissing and snapping intermittently at each other. They look, thankfully, solid once more, and the noises resemble their frequent arguments enough not to alarm you, but you suppose there’s something objectively worrying about a boy clutching at his own head and jerking back and forth, making noises that don’t qualify as ‘human’ by any means.
“You’re such an idiot,” says Shine, as he straightens up and rakes a hand through his hair. It’s unusually aggressive for him, but you hear the layers of his tone, a disappointed edge that Wang Ran would have to try very hard to emulate. Shine paces, snatching his hand back seemingly to prevent Wang Ran from taking control again. “Don’t think like that.”
His mouth tugs into a smirk—the one that so plainly signifies that Wang Ran has no idea what he’s feeling and he doesn’t want you to know that he doesn’t know. “Are you mad at me?” Wang Ran taunts. “Maybe you should be.”
Shine tilts his head, fringe falling in his eyes. “What for?”
“I nearly got you stuck in Hell.”
Wang Ran stays frozen still. Or maybe this is Shine. Hard to tell, with the look of shock and bitter determination mingled.
“Ah Ran,” Shine says, his voice dropped into a whisper.
“No,” Wang Ran says, face twisted.
Shine buries his face into his hands. “I told you not to think that way before. It’s okay. I’m fine. You didn’t do anything.”
“I’m the one who did this to you.”
“I’m letting you stay. I want you to stay.”
“Sunshine.”
“And that,” you whisper to Nathaniel, “is our cue to go.”
Nathaniel lets you push her out into the hall with no complaints. She makes it all the way to you closing the door with a click—just in time for the first sob to come from inside the apartment—before working her jaw and nailing you with a firm glare. “You gonna explain now?” she asks.
You, head still blurry with the aftershocks of having been blinked to Hell and back, cross your arms. “I don’t even know where to start,” you say.
“How about why the kid we went to see like last month is in your apartment?”
“Well.” You wince a little. “I might have taken on his case.”
Nathaniel lets you speak. Halfway through your little monologue, she reaches out to pull your hand into hers, and you didn’t know you needed it until she does it. Your skin feels hot underneath her calloused fingers. She smells faintly of smoke—you know she doesn’t like to carry the scent around with her, but it neatly chases away the last lingering sweetness of death.
“I just wanted to help,” you finish.
“For fuck’s sake,” Nathaniel mutters.
“I know,” you say. “I’m sorry.” The apology slips out before you can help yourself. You won’t miss One Wizard, but you’ll miss her. You’ll miss the mundanity of stealing bits of her lunch, bickering with her over stupid phone calls, being dazzled by her outfits every day.
“Shut up,” Nathaniel says. “You don’t have to justify anything to me. I know you.” She stills. “I do,” she clarifies, her voice dragging lower, something in her eyes shifting, the corners softening. It makes her look plaintive. Hesitant, for once in her life. She rubs her thumbs over the jut of your knuckles, a slow, rhythmic motion that hooks you to her like an anchor. You find yourself listing forward, tipping the two of you forehead to forehead.
“We were supposed to start a practice together,” you hear yourself say.
In your mind’s eye, it still stood, the little corner store that had been the thing buoying you forward half the time. An idyllic sort of fantasy, the kind of rosy gold image that could only be borne of frustrations of the current circumstance—in your dream world, you and Nathaniel are perfect business partners and there is never any red tape. But of course, that sort of fantasy is the hardest to relinquish.
Nathaniel blinks, her eyes wide and dark. “What?”
“It was going to service all your old clients,” you say, stupid now. “I wanted to paint the walls red.”
Nathaniel laughs. “Babe.”
“Gonna be a little hard to do any of that if I’m tied down to literal Hell,” you mutter.
Another laugh, louder this time. “Babe,” Nathaniel says again. “Baby. Wen Mingyan. My darling idiot.” You can see the bob of her throat as she swallows, the disbelieving shake of her head, her mouth, parting. “You’re the best fucking wizard I know. You faced down literal Hell for the people you want to help. Of course I still want to start a practice with you.”
“But—”
“I don’t need One Wizard,” she says breezily. “They need me. They lose nearly a fourth of their customer base without me. Ever since The Sourcery opened up shop in Westend, they’ve been hemorrhaging customers, and my ex-clients are the ones propping everything up. I’m pretty damn confident about that. Besides, can you imagine? A wizarding parlour with a direct line to Death itself? Hah! Tell that to King Death when he comes over here all eager to lock you down. Don’t you get it? You impressed him. He’s not going to say no.”
That’s the thing about having been stuck in place for so long. You stop being able to see the possibilities you can carve out for yourself.
Nathaniel looks at you with her mouth loose and crooked, and you feel, for the first time, a road towards the future. Something to look forward to. Solid and real, not a flimsy fantasy. It’s nothing fancy. For now, it’s this: the grasp of Nathaniel’s hands in yours, a reassurance that she’s going to stay. That’s enough.
“Okay,” you tell her. “Let’s do that.”
Your hands don’t tremble, but there is a curious lump in your throat when you step into the small space of Meng’s Kitchen. Shine’s mother is already behind the counter, sitting on a small stool with her elbow propped up and flour dusting her otherwise still dark hair.
The bell rings when you ease your way in—Shine scurries in after you. His mother visibly sighs, and you watch her stitch together a smile that you know the taste of better than any childhood dish on the menu. “Welcome!” she starts, before she notices who it is, in fact, who just walked into her door.
“Junlei!” she says, voice sharp.
Shine scuffs his shoes on the floor. He doesn’t look up properly. “Hi, Mom.”
Shine’s mom rolls her eyes. “Is that how you greet me after two weeks away? How’s the internship? You haven’t even called once!”
Shine looks back and meets your eyes with one wild, tremulous look. It practically is screaming help!!!!!!!! You’ve literally rescued this boy from the depths of the underworld, but maybe this is the biggest favour he’s ever asked of you. Still, maybe Nathaniel was right. You’re fucking soft.
You clear your throat. “Ma’am,” you say, taking a halting step forward.
“You’re the wizard,” Shine’s mother says, with an unflinching lift of her eyebrows.
“Yes’m,” you say with a dip of your head.
“Did someone call you?” she asks, still skeptical.
“No, Mom,” Shine interrupts, then immediately winces in regret when his mother turns abruptly towards him. “I mean… we’re here together,” explains.
“I’ve been working on your son’s case for the past few weeks,” you say, before anyone has the chance to do any more scolding. “There’s been a few complications, and Shine wanted me to come explain the circumstances to you. Do you have somewhere private we can talk? I can come back anytime you’re free otherwise.”
“I’m not letting my son leave now that he’s finally taken the time out of his busy, busy life to visit me,” Shine’s mother says, clucking her tongue. “Whatever you have to say, you can say it right here.”
“Mom,” Shine hisses. You start, noticing the beginning of a deeper sibilance lining his voice. Shine’s face goes pink, and then it’s not Shine’s face any more.
Wang Ran rolls his shoulders back, tucks a lock of wavy hair behind one ear, and brazenly sticks his hand out. “I’m not your son,” he says. “I’m the one they’ve been trying to get rid of for two weeks, and it doesn’t look like I’m leaving anytime soon, so. I’m Wang Ran.”
Shine’s mother’s face is very blank. It has not shifted from the expectant sternness etched in the lines in her brow and the downturn of her lips.
“Shine is fine,” you say hurriedly. “He’s… made the decision to attempt cohabitation.”
Wang Ran smoothly retracts his hand to buff his nails on the sleeve of his flannel when Shine’s mother does not rush for a shake.
“It was a very complicated spell,” you try to explain. “There should be no dangers from now on, though, and your son is going to keep in contact with you to explain everything that is going on. He thought it would alarm you to notify you before we understood exactly what is going on.”
Suddenly, Wang Ran dips his head down with a deference you didn’t even know he was capable of. “Ah-yi—can I call you that?—Shine’s told me a lot about you. Thanks for the dumplings you taught him how to make. They were really good.”
You have to bite the inside of your cheek not to burst out laughing. His face still downcast, Wang Ran’s lips lift in a brief smirk.
Shine’s mom’s eyes are still narrowed, but she’s dusting her hands off on the apron tied around her waist, now, and you see the telltale signs of her edges smoothing down. “Well,” she says, “there’s more where that came from, if you’re staying.”
Wang Ran looks up, and his eyes are the widest and most innocent you’ve ever seen them. He barely looks like himself. Maybe Shine is giving him tips inside their head. “I really don’t have anywhere else to go,” he says.
“Why not? What happened?”
“My dad isn’t… the greatest,” Wang Ran explains. How he’s getting through this straight-faced is a mystery to you.
Shine’s mom steps forward. She seems to recognize that there is none of her son’s body language in this boy, lanky all the same, but carrying himself with stiffness in all the wrong places: neck, jaw, small of his back, unlike Shine’s tightly clasped fingers and oft-shrugged shoulders. She scrutinizes him, then pats his cheek with a sigh. “You’re too skinny,” she says, with another tsk, but gentler. Her thumb swipes across Wang Ran’s cheek, and Wang Ran’s lip only trembles a little bit.
With a small nod, she turns around with a whip of her apron strings. “Come around to the back. I’ll get you some food, and you can tell me the whole story together. And Junlei, you better not be thinking you can get away with hiding this entire time. Honestly! Not even one phone call, let alone coming by to see me? This kind of child, what do I do with you?”
You barely have time to catch Wang Ran’s eye before he’s speed walking to follow her back.
By the time you finally manage to have that dinner—just you, Nathaniel, Shine, and eternal guest of honour Wang Ran—everything in your lives is relatively more settled. Shine and Wang Ran have evidently (hopefully) worked out whatever they needed to. Frankly, you don’t really want to know. Shine’s mother is in on the whole thing, especially after Wang Ran had lasted about two seconds into the home cooked meal she’d set out for you all before bursting into undignified tears. Also, he sends her selfies, which Shine hates, but she clearly loves, so you think that relationship is on its way to blossoming despite all of Shine’s complaints.
Nathaniel is late. But you’ll forgive her for that.
Shine brandishes a plate of dumplings like revealing a card trick. “Guess who did some of these!” he says happily.
“Are you saying Wang Ran finally got over his fear of being judged by all of us and took you up on your offer to teach him?”
The faint blush that comes through certainly doesn’t belong to Shine, who only nods enthusiastically.
You poke at one of the misshapen dumplings with your chopsticks. “Good job,” you chirp.
Wang Ran pokes himself out to scowl at you. “I told you they’d come out weird,” he mutters.
“The first time I tried to make dumplings,” you say solemnly, “half of them exploded in the pot. So. Good job.”
Wang Ran’s blush comes through full force, now. He puts the plate down on the table and sits with his arms tightly crossed.
Your phone rings with Nathaniel’s caller ID, and you wave your hand as you get up. “Can you set the table?” you ask, addressing whoever it is that wants to take the request up.
Surprisingly, Wang Ran stays. “Vinegar or soy sauce?” he asks.
“Aww, look at you,” you coo loudly to annoy him more, “being so helpful!”
Wang Ran scrunches his nose. “Do you want me to leave?” he mutters.
“Just bring both out!” you say, then dart in to mess up his hair because you know he hates it. “Thanks!”
His grumbling follows you out the door. He doesn’t look any less irritated when you come back, Nathaniel in tow, and she snickers as she drops her coat on the couch.
“Have you guys gotten a second bed in here yet?” she asks.
Wang Ran shakes his head, having seated himself again at the table. The plates and chopsticks are set up, vinegar and soy sauce both next to the steaming dumplings. “We’re going shopping next week.”
“I said,” you cut in, “we are getting a cot.”
Nathaniel clucks her tongue. “You should petition for the bedroom.”
“Absolutely not,” you say.
Shine chooses now to come back, giving Nathaniel a crescent-eyed smile. “Thanks for making it over, Journeyman Feng,” he says. “I hope you like pork and chives.”
“Please just call me Nathaniel,” she says, waving a hand. “Seriously, I want as little to do with One Wizard as possible on my own time. Also, I will eat any dumpling you put in front of me.”
“Sure,” Shine says. “I’ll ask you next time we need a taste tester, then.”
Nathaniel gasps. “Holy shit, please,” she says, shaking you by the shoulder. “You made the best decision, adopting these two,” she says.
“Adopting?” you splutter.
“Whatever you call it when you gain a sibling, I guess,” Nathaniel says. Then turns to Shine. “Sorry. I guess you still have a mom.”
The laugh that bursts from Shine surprises you both. He practically doubles over, holding both hands to his face as he giggles. “My mom loves Wang Ran more than me at this point,” he says. “Jiejie loves me the most, though,” he says, nudging you in the side.
“You wish,” Wang Ran takes over to snap. “C’mon, dà gē, tell him like it is.”
You hold your hands up placatingly. “I am but a neutral party in this household.”
You’re pelted with a stray napkin by, pretty evidently, both of them.
Nathaniel bursts into laughter, clutching her stomach.
Wang Ran pouts. “What?” he says. “I’m genuinely hurt here. I’ve never had a proper family before. I should get priority here.” He holds a sad, pouting little face, trying to look like a lost little lamb instead of an evil snake, but it lasts for all of two seconds before Shine’s laughing blossoms through.
You plop one of his own misshapen dumplings in front of him. “Eat,” you mutter, brandishing your chopsticks at him, and lo and behold: he does.
The table quickly turns into general chatter, Shine’s schedule for how to juggle exams and visiting his mom in a month or so, yours and Nathaniel’s future wizard parlour, Wang Ran whining about wanting to see a real beach when it’s warm enough, and it really sinks in properly in the buzz all around you—they’re all real plans, solid dates, all mixed in with a future tentativeness that feels like the most precious thing of all.
If what One Wizard slowly siphoned out of you over the years was hope, then that’s what you feel, then. The steady drip of it coming back. It’s not until you have it again that you realize—all this time, you’ve spent years cramped in, unable to see more than the month ahead, the week, the day sometimes. But Nathaniel grabs a napkin to messily scrawl in soy sauce her ideas for the signage of your shop, and none of this is guaranteed, but that’s optimism, isn’t it? You never wanted anything like that, recklessly, without the cushion of caveats in case it doesn’t work out.
Perhaps Death deals in absolutes, but there is no bargaining for life. There is no handshake to make it go down easy, nothing you can offer up to guarantee your happiness. Maybe that’s not so bad, with the right sort of company.
Shine’s soft hair tickling your cheek when he leans in to whisper a family secret; Wang Ran’s startled hiss when he tries tapioca pearls for the first time; Nathaniel’s steady presence; even fleetingly, Lark tipping a nod to you when you pass each other on the street. All that and more. Let it sink in. Enjoy it for now.
And when King Death inevitably comes calling—you can hold the truth close: everything is going to be okay.