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#i apologized to my roommate because she was buddhist but like
wuxian-vs-wangji · 3 years
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The biggest conspiracy across all Kdramas is pretending Korea in the fall isn’t absolutely packed with GIANT FUCKING TARANTULAS.
Neon green ones whose *bodies alone* are the size of a clenched fist.
Bright orange ones whose bodies are as long and narrow as your middle finger but with legs long enough to wrap around to the sides of your face.
A cousin to the Australian Hunter Spider famous for not moving.
But one crawled at me once and I paid someone $10 to squish it because it was literally following me (if I walked somewhere else, it’d turn and keep following me around a whole group of people).
Anywhere you turn in the fall you see 10 of them within 20 feet.
But you know where you never see them?
IN KDRAMAS.
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ezra-blue · 5 years
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Worst Version - Moonrise over Suburbia
I started writing a fic for Saiyuki AU August, and then I started hating it. So I gave up and wrote a 393 instead. Here’s the first twelve pages of a 353 fake dating AU, unedited.
Moonrise Over Suburbia
It was too damn early. That was what Gojyo hated most about the long hauls; crossing time zones there and back fucked him up something fierce. It was ass-o'fucking-clock, a little past four AM, but his brain said it was seven and time for the morning piss and the first cigarette of the day before he was supposed to be getting back into the cab of his eighteen-wheeler and setting off towards the rising sun. Still, being willing to make the drive from Maine to Oregon, Portland to Portland, kept money in his pockets, kept the lights on and kept the landlord off his ass. Steady pay, not bored during the day, the occasional pretty young thing from the bars that dotted the highway to keep him busy at nights? Pretty ideal, really. He and his best friend-slash-hetero-life-mate had managed on his UPS job and his friend's adjunct professor's salary for this long, so he had nothing to complain about that way.
Really, the only thing he had to worry about tonight was where his next meal was coming from, since Hakkai wasn't home and Gojyo was the kind of chef who could burn stove-top ramen. He didn't even want to think about how terrible he'd be at cooking on two hours of sleep.
Even so, as much as it sucked to be up way earlier than he had to be on his day off, there was something kinda surreal and dreamy about being out on his balcony and watching the pre-dawn August sky, those pale blues and pinks and that hint of orange. It was quiet, damn quiet, not a car on the road and only the rare jogger or dog-walker breaking the abandoned streets of the suburbs at the foot of his apartment building; the neighborhood felt unreal without anyone in it, but it wasn't a bad kind of unreal. The moon was setting in the distance, in the space between the houses and mid-rises across the street, her swollen face, waxing, pale against the misty sky and half-faded, as if she'd never been there at all. Gojyo lit his cigarette against the mirage of the moon and sucked down the first rush of nicotine, easing the crave and relaxing into the way-too-damn-early serenity of a world that hadn't woken up yet.
Life was good.
Then, the door to the neighboring balcony slid open, and Gojyo felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, readying himself like a referee at the edge of a boxing ring had picked up the hammer next to the bell. Gojyo's neighbor stepped outside with a sigh already on his lips, languid eyes and heavy gaze running over Gojyo in his singlet and boxer shorts as he, already dressed for the day, took his Marlboros from his back pocket.
“You're up early.” He held his smoke out. “Give me a light.”
“What, your lighter out again?” Gojyo held out his Zippo and flicked the wheel. “You think you'd've remembered to keep spares on hand by now, old man.”
He sneered, and if he didn't do that so much, Gojyo thought, he might've been good-looking, but instead Gojyo just found himself having a lot of trouble liking him. “Fuck off, I've been buried under work for the past week while you were fuck-knows-where, running through every damn disposable I had.”
Sanzo was kind of weird like that. He smoked like a car factory, but he insisted on disposable lighters. He claimed to be a Buddhist and meditated in the laundry room (though Gojyo was this side of sure he was just napping), but he was anything but peaceful, swearing at anyone who got on his nerves and cussing out his roommate through the walls. He kept weirder hours than Gojyo, because Gojyo couldn't name a single hour he hadn't heard the guy awake through the walls, though Gojyo, with his broken sleep schedule, had no room to criticize. He was also basically kind of an asshole to everyone for no obvious reason. Gojyo couldn't hate him – even had a grudging respect for someone who lived the way he wanted and unapologetically gave zero fucks – but he made himself hard to like.
“Get a fucking Zippo and a jumbo bottle of lighter fluid, you'll damn near never run out.” Gojyo waited for Sanzo to touch his cigarette to the flame and catch, then tucked it away and returned his attention to his own cigarette as the embers smoldered against his fingers. Sanzo grunted noncommittally.
“Whatever. It'd be less of a pain than talking to you every time I run out, anyway.” Sanzo leaned over the railing of his balcony as he took a drag, looking tired and a little tragic as his focus turned to the sky and the setting moon. “Hell of a time to be up.”
“I just got done with a gig driving all the way East along the Canadian border and back. Five days out of the right time zone kinda fucks a guy up, y'know?”
“You do it to yourself.” Sanzo sneered a bit. “Just turn your alarm off and roll over.”
“Can't do that, princess.” Gojyo wagged his cigarette between his fingers. “Even if the old alarm didn't ring, the internal 'cig time' clock runs smoother than a fake titty in a compression tank top.”
Sanzo gave him a sickly glower. “Every time you make a metaphor like that, I doubt further you've ever seen a breast, let alone touched one.” He snorted and dragged deep on his cigarette, pulling the flame down to the filter fast. Gojyo admired that lung capacity for a second, until Sanzo coughed deep and hard.
“Jeez, you're in a mood this morning. That time of the month already?” Gojyo stubbed the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray Hakkai had put out next to his potted plants (in an effort to keep Gojyo from flicking his butts into the plants, of course), as Sanzo scoffed again, then rubbed at the deep bags under his eyes.
“Fuck you.” He groaned and shook his head, rubbing his fingers against his temples. “Just... I fucking hate summer.”
“The heat get you down?” Gojyo leaned his back against the railing, watching as Sanzo seemed to slump further. He definitely seemed a little more worn-out than usual. “Work a bitch this time of year?” Gojyo wasn't sure what Sanzo did – his roommate, a friendly college student that Gojyo palled around with when he wasn't buried under homework, had mentioned something about stock trading – but he seemed to hate it. Then again, Sanzo seemed to hate damn near everything.
“The fuck do you care for?” The smoke billowing off Sanzo's teeth seemed to come a little fiercer. Gojyo just shrugged.
“I dunno, I can usually hear you bitching through the walls when you're in a shit mood, so maybe I don't need your bleep-box nightmare mouth waking me up when I'm trying to catch up on my Z's. So, spill, maybe wise ol' Gojyo can help.” He turned, wagging an eyebrow at Sanzo with just a little bit of a lascivious grin. Sanzo scoffed again, but then he was quiet, that kind of quiet that said he was thinking. Then, he muttered:
“Is your roommate home? I haven't seen him.”
Gojyo rolled his eyes. “Check your calendar, dipshit. It's the end of August, Professor Hakkai's in the pre-semester crunch doing syllabuses and making up assignments. He left a note to apologize for the empty fridge, so he's probably been living in the teacher's lounge at the university since after I left.”
“Shit.” Sanzo threw his cigarette down and scrubbed his hand down his face. Gojyo raised an eyebrow and tucked his cigarette between his lips as he crossed his arms.
“Okay, what the fuck is up?”
Sanzo grimaced, then slid his fingers open to make a gap over his face and eye contact with Gojyo. “I need a date.”
Gojyo damn near swallowed his cigarette. “What?”
“I. Need. A. Date. You heard me.” Sanzo made a face as he pivoted to face Gojyo. “It's... look, do you have any family?”
Gojyo pulled a face at this. “None worth talking about.”
“Most of the time, me neither. My old man travels the damn world most of the year, but he comes back home for a little bit in the summer, and he always wants to see me when he's home.” Sanzo huffed in disgust. “Even when he's globetrotting, he calls me from wherever the fuck he is, forgetting that time zones are a fucking thing--” Gojyo snorted at the irony, but Sanzo missed it-- “And pisses me off whining about wondering how I'm doing. I decided to get him off my ass by telling him I'd gotten a boyfriend.” Sanzo didn't even give Gojyo a chance to question him, ranting right on, “That way, I could mute my phone and if he asked why I didn't pick up, I could tell him I'd been busy with my boyfriend and he'd be happy for me and maybe fucking call less.”
Gojyo managed to push his jaw shut. “Wait, you're gay?”
“No.” Sanzo glared at Gojyo. “And even if I were, why do you care?”
“Curious, dude. I mean, it's not my thing, but I say live and let live. So, you're not gay but you told your old man--
“If I had to date someone,” Sanzo interrupted, emphasizing the 'if' like it had a two ton weight swinging behind it, “I'd prefer a man. Women annoy me more.”
“Got it.” Gojyo shrugged again. “So, I'm guessing that lie's made its way back around the world to bite you in the ass.”
Sanzo grunted and pinched his temples again. “My dad has invited me to a dinner party. He wants me to introduce him to my boyfriend. The one who doesn't exist.”
Gojyo whistled. “Your mouth wrote you a check your ass can't cash, huh?” He smirked at Sanzo. “Took a withdrawal from the bank of lies and found that interest a little steep?”
“Fuck you, I didn't think you'd be much help anyway.” Sanzo sneered and turned for the door, but Gojyo whistled again to get his attention.
“Hold up, prissy-britches, wait a second. What is it you need?” He paused, putting the pieces together as his brain woke up enough to puzzle out what Sanzo had said. “Wait, were you gonna ask the Prof to be your boyfriend or something?”
Sanzo grumbled something indistinct, but in the pink dawn light, Gojyo realized his ears had gone bright red. “Oh-ho. Oh, Sanzo. That wouldn't'a worked anyway. Prof Hakkai's got this long distance girl – her name's Yaone, she's this medical researcher working in N'Orleans right now, something about frogs – and he Skypes with her every night for like an hour. He wouldn't be caught dead with someone else, since he's got big plans for her when she's done with her assignment.” Sanzo swore softly. “What about Goku?”
“What about Goku? My dad knows him, he'd never believe he and I had gotten together. Plus, I would've just said, 'Goku and I are an item' instead of being as vague as I have.”
“Any reason you couldn't'a just faked it with the kid?” Gojyo wagged his cigarette a little. “Hell, I hear about folks our age just getting married to our buddies for the tax benefits and getting a no-fault divorce when the real deal comes along.” Sanzo huffed with annoyance, shoulders sinking, but he waved his cigarette hand around as if to wipe away the very notion.
“It's complicated. I'm not getting into that with him. Either way, my dad wouldn't buy it.”
“Fine.” Gojyo knew how loaded a word like 'complicated' was when it came to love stuff, family stuff, stuff he usually tried not to fuck with. “And I'm guessing, given your glowing personality and natural charm, you've got plenty of friends who'd be willing to play the role for a night.”
“Fuck you.”
Sanzo blinked a few times as if someone had snapped a flash photo and he had to clear away the fuzz. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"It means, you need a fake boyfriend, I got spare time and a dick, I could play the part."
"Not a chance." Sanzo sneered, lip curling. "I'm not your type."
"You sure about that?" Gojyo grinned coyly and swaggered up to the railing, keeping the bars between him and Sanzo but leaning over them to smirk at him. "That might even work better for ya. Your old man'll be able to tell we're not a good couple, so if you do find someone you actually wanna hook up with, he'll totally understand when you break up with me."
The fact that Sanzo just raised an eyebrow rather than throwing back a nasty retort told Gojyo that he might have just said the magic words. "And what do you get out of it?"
"Dinner, duh." Gojyo thumbed over his shoulder. "Told ya, the Prof's out, and I probably won't see him 'til the crunch is over and the semester starts. You said this was a dinner, that means free food and you can filch me some leftovers, and I don't have to live on Mickey D's for however the fuck long Hakkai's out of the house." Gojyo paused. "Alright, and if I gotta sweeten my own deal, you gotta bring me some breakfast or something."
Sanzo scowled his irritation, but he put his face close to Gojyo's. "Can you pretend to enjoy kissing me?"
"Only if you can." As if to test it, Gojyo tilted his head to kiss Sanzo on the mouth, but Sanzo evaded.
"No dress rehearsals. Fuck. Fine." Sanzo pivoted around, shoving his sliding door open. "Be ready to go at five, we gotta drive there. Wear a tie, if you own one." He slammed the door shut behind him (as hard as one could slam a glass sliding door), and Gojyo blew a smoke ring at his back.
“Well, whatever.” He had dinner set for the night, anyway, and it was something different to do on his day off.
Life was strange, but alright. Gojyo watched the moon sink a little lower as he finished his smoke, and resolved to try to get a little more sleep. He wanted to be awake enough to watch Sanzo squirm tonight.
--------------------------
Sanzo at first seemed surprised when Gojyo pushed open the front door of their apartment building, eyes a little wide as he strolled down the sidewalk towards the curb and Sanzo's stark white Equus (nice car, Gojyo thought, for someone who never leaves the house). "Hey," he hailed Sanzo with a wave and a wink, and Sanzo just scoffed and flapped a hand back, but Gojyo didn't miss the way Sanzo's gaze swiped his body. Gojyo had dug out the black silk shirt and a white straight tie, the stuff he saved for nights at swanky clubs near the college, and now Sanzo was staring at him with what sure smelled like jealousy. Gojyo made sure to pass him just close enough that he could smell his cologne and the cigarettes on his collar; after all, even if he was just playing at being Sanzo's boyfriend, Sanzo's dad might as well think he was a catch, or at least sexy, and it'd be nice if Sanzo would acknowledge that he was making an effort. Sanzo sniffed the air a little, though Gojyo couldn't be sure if it was attraction or derision. Gojyo walked a short circle around the car so Sanzo could see just how damn good his ass looked in dark wash jeans, but also so he could check out the ride – it was an older car, but it looked damn sharp, so either Sanzo took good care of it or never drove it. "She's nice."
"She?"
"Cars are ladies, doncha know?" Gojyo winked, then leaned against the hood. "So, you ready to roll?"
Sanzo pulled a face, brow quirking, mouth twitching back with annoyance. "Yeah, fine." He took a cigarette out of his sport coat's inner pocket and lit up as he circled to the driver's side. His focus glanced off of Gojyo again as Gojyo cracked open the passenger side door. "You look presentable."
That was the closest thing Gojyo'd ever heard to a compliment coming out of Sanzo. He just chuckled and slicked his fingers back through his hair. "Well, when I'm not bound for sixteen hours in my cab by my lonesome, I make a little more effort. Thanks."
"Hm." Sanzo's focus flitted away, eyes dodging down, and Gojyo realized Sanzo actually, seriously thought he looked good. He smirked to himself, cocksure and proud, as he settled into the cushy seat of Sanzo's little luxury sedan and threw his safety belt on.
Sanzo drove like he was daring the cops to pull him over, using his turn signals like insults rather than indicators. Gojyo found himself gripping the “oh-shit” handle for most of the ride and watching the streets fly past the window as they veered from the outskirts of Portland, circumvented the city, and sped towards Five Corners. Gojyo was familiar with the area, he'd driven local deliveries through here. He recognized the exits and turns towards a particularly nice slice of the suburbs north and east of West Hill, the kind of place where he ended up dropping off a lot of luxury brand packages in December.
Not surprising. If Sanzo's dad had the assets to travel the world, it made sense he had it in him to own a house in a nice area. Sanzo seemed like he came from a good place, though Gojyo got the sense that something had happened that had made him turn out rotten. Kids who came from good homes seemed to have the biggest problems. Gojyo had found that folks with money too often substituted cash for decent morals and common sense. Not that broke kids didn't have their problems too, but everyone knew about those already, so they were hardly worth whining about.
The sun was just starting to sink behind the mountain when they pulled up to a mid-sized Victorian-style house in the middle of a winding, tree-lined road, but instead of the manicured lawn and designer garden he expected, the grass was long and wild, the roses were growing up the brick and stone columns like trellises, and most of the windows were draped with ivy, bedecked with living greenery like Christmas tinsel. The lights were on, glowing gold onto the other cars parked out front, and Sanzo groaned as he pushed the clasp on his seat belt loose. “Fuck, he invited the whole crew.”
“The whole crew?” Gojyo repeated, fumbling off the last of his terror at the last abrupt, screeching turn onto the driveway, fingers shaking just a little, but he got out and shook himself off. The yard was quiet, with only a faint hum of noise and music from the house proper. Sanzo shook his head with disgust.
“He invited all of his friends from work, from before he retired.” He slapped the cars as he strolled past them. “Glasses guy, Fey guy, the Colonel, Big guy, Shouty guy, Quiet guy, Baldy One and Baldy Two...”
Gojyo frowned and followed a step behind. “They, uh, got names?”
“Sure, but I don't bother remembering them. I see them once a year, less if I had any say in it.” Sanzo scoffed, shaking his head as he went, but Gojyo caught him shoot a truly venomous look at a black sports car parked in front of the driveway. “And of course, that prick is here. I'd hoped the old man would've pushed him off a boat by now.”
Gojyo raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't ask. He had a feeling he'd find out who 'that prick' was soon enough.
Sanzo loped to the front door, shaking his shoulders out like he was limbering up for a boxing match, then rang the bell and rapped his fist on the door twice. Gojyo felt Sanzo's tension around him like static electricity as the chime reverberated into silence, until the door opened to a mild-looking man in a colorful knee-length jacket, his long hair in a braid cast over his shoulder and a pipe between his fingers. He threw his arms open, beaming. “Kouryuu, there you are!”
Sanzo reluctantly trudged forward and let the man fold his arms around him. Gojyo even caught a glimpse of a begrudging smile. “Father. I've asked you to call me Genjo instead of that babyish nickname.”
“It's not babyish, it's what I've always called you!” Sanzo's father patted his back a few times before releasing him, only to hold him at arm's length. “And you'll always be my baby, you know.” He turned to Gojyo, and spoke to him with the familiarity as if he'd known him for years. “Has he told you about how I adopted him? All my old friends were stunned, they didn't think a man like me could be a parent, but this one falls into my lap and--”
“Father, you should really introduce yourself before you start telling embarrassing old stories about me.” Sanzo was visibly tense now, and Gojyo couldn't help but chuckle to himself.
“Hey, he told me it'd been a while since you've seen each other, I can't blame ya for being eager.” Gojyo loosened to a casual slouch and swaggered a half step in. “Name's Gojyo. I''m the guy who's been taking care of your boy these last – how many months, babe?”
The look of pure relief on Sanzo's face was immensely satisfying. “Ten.”
“Ten months, but who's counting, right?” Gojyo extended a hand. “It's nice to meet you, sir.”
“Oh, he calls me 'sir,'” Sanzo's father laughed, but he clasped both hands around Gojyo's and shook it vigorously. “I'm Koumyou Sanzo, his father. So tell me, is his butt as cute as it was when he was little?”
Gojyo nearly choked on his own tongue trying not to laugh right there, as Sanzo turned a shade of crimson Gojyo could only compare to steakhouse ketchup. “Father!”
“He hasn't showed me baby pictures,” Gojyo demurred, winking at Sanzo again. “But let's see what the night brings, you know?”
Koumyou chortled, obviously delighted, but waved the pair of them past. “Oh, Genjo, he's funny. I like him!”
“He's unique.” Sanzo eyed Gojyo with just a hint of malice, and Gojyo put on a sheepish grin. “He's never boring, anyway.”
“I'm just glad I can make you laugh, babe.” Gojyo motioned for Sanzo to go first, as Sanzo shot him one quick glare and moved past him.
So far, so good.
Koumyou led them into a room near the entrance, but before Gojyo could even get a look around, a cheer rose through the room.
“There he is!”
“The prodigal son!”
“The famous son,” someone else laughed back, and Gojyo finally got a look around. Koumyou kept it colorful, the walls beige but decorated with ornate, colorful paintings – Klimt, van Gogh, Degas, and framed posters from art galleries advertising exhibitions from around the world – and his table was just as colorful. The centerpiece of the room, the dinner spread over the long low table, was of covered dishes in purples and crimsons and greens over a tablecloth with a technicolor geometric pattern. All the guests were seated on silk patterned cushions on their knees similar in pattern to Koumyou's jacket, and all of them were waving to Genjo as he slouched in the aperture between the foyer and dining room.
“It's...” Gojyo could feel Sanzo's tension in the hum of his hesitation and patted his back, and Sanzo seemed to remember that he should finish his sentence. “Nice to see you all again.”
“Liar,” one man near the head of the table, a man closer to Sanzo's age than to Koumyou's with shaggy dark hair, chuckled, and Sanzo's gaze snapped to him. “Imagine,” he went on, dark eyes gleaming in the yellow light of the chandelier, “Koumyou putting the poor antisocial boy through his paces again.”
Sanzo bristled, and jerked his shoulder to shake Gojyo's hand off. “It's been too long, Jianyi.”
“He lies again.” The dark-haired man, Jianyi apparently, laughed, and elbowed at the man next to him, who actually gave him a rather irritated look back.
“Will you be nice to your boyfriend's son?” He was an odd-looking fellow, with a classic Mandarin hairstyle, all the hair shaved but for a braid, and a mustache, and when he stood, Gojyo realized he was a little person. He circled the table and came to stand in front of Sanzo, then bowed. “You're looking well, Genjo.”
“Genkai.” Sanzo actually bowed back. “It's good to see you again.”
“Now he means it,” a man with hair dyed purple giggled (Fey guy, though his voice was rougher than his rather feminine features suggested), and Baldy One and Baldy Two on either side of him both smiled, One reluctantly and Two wryly, before Fey guy cupped a hand. “Genjo, introduce the beefcake!”
All eyes were on him now. Gojyo keenly felt Jianyi's stare, as Sanzo motioned to him. “Everyone, Gojyo. We've been seeing each other ten months.”
“Nice find!” A guy wearing a canvas military cap, who was a little younger and a little thicker than the others (Gojyo was guessing that was the Big guy), hooted, and the Colonel (the white beard and mustache were a dead giveaway) chuckled into his hand.
“Gojyo, Genjo, please, sit, make yourself comfortable! Where did that Father of yours get to?”
“He can't have gone far.” Genkai eased back and motioned to the two empty cushions near the center of the table. “We were all just catching up. All boring old man stuff, of course. What have you been up to?”
With that, Genkai ushered Sanzo to sit, and Gojyo sat beside him on his knees, and Sanzo was dragged into the typical inane conversation of catching up with someone one hadn't seen in a while. Gojyo found out a little about Sanzo, at least: he was a straight-up New York City stock trader, working (remotely) on Eastern Standard Time from the nine A.M. opening bell (six A.M., Gojyo did the math in his head with a quick wince) until closing. Explained why he was always awake when Gojyo's schedule was fucked, anyway. It also explained why he seemed to be such a recluse, or at least how he could stay in the apartment all day and still make a decent living. Gojyo couldn't help but figure the why from Sanzo's terse reactions every time he got a question from another direction, eyes briefly widening a little bit every time someone asked about the next big trend, stock advice, buy or sell on this or that, and turning faintly scarlet whenever Fey guy or Big guy made some wink and nod joke about him being “kept busy” and winking at Gojyo.
Koumyou rejoined the party just as Baldy Two was pushing Sanzo about Apple stock, bearing a covered dish. “My, my, you've all started the festivities without me!”
“We couldn't help ourselves,” Jianyi chuckled, edging over to widen the gap beside him. Gojyo immediately felt his attention snap to the guy, because for some reason, Gojyo had gotten a bad vibe off of him, and not just from Sanzo's reaction to his prodding, or that of the other ten men in the room every time he'd made some mutter Gojyo couldn't hear or make out. It was that 'not-safe' feeling he got when he pulled into truck stops that told him his shit would get stolen out of the cab if he so much as stopped for a piss break there, or when he passed over lot lizards that he just knew would give him syphilis if he so much as looked at her twice without a condom on. He had sort of a sense for trouble like that, it came with living like he did. Jianyi seemed either blissfully unaware of everyone else's disdain or wholly unperturbed by it, but that was just as off-putting as the initial sense Gojyo got, and just as eerie as the smile Jianyi put on when Koumyou sat down beside him and put the dish in the rest of the spread. "Can we serve now?"
"Oh, yes, yes, please!" Koumyou motioned up with both hands, indicating for everyone to lift the covers, before turning his smile towards Gojyo. "And if you don't know what something is, please ask!"
Gojyo suddenly felt eyes on him, and plastered on a self-conscious smile. "Food's food, right? I'm sure I can figure it out."
There was a round of soft chuckling and stifled laughter around the table, as Sanzo muttered, "You happen to be at a table with eleven world-travelers, each of whom brought a dish from a part of the world they have been to over the last year. I guarantee you I'll only be guessing at half of what's on this table, but I have no food allergies or sensitivities and I'm not picky. Just ask if you're not sure."
"I'm not picky either," Gojyo countered quickly, choosing not to volunteer that he'd eaten maggots before just so nobody could press him about the context. "Uh, but excluding us, I counted twelve, so--"
"I can't cook," Koumyou volunteered sheepishly. "However, I got a friend in town to dress a lamb leg in the Turkish style, and while I wouldn't know what to do with it myself, I can set an oven and carve meat off the bone."
"With some help." Nii winked at him, and Gojyo heard Fey guy make a disgusted noise.
"Can we just eat already?" He lowered his voice to a mutter and added, "Before I lose my appetite."
The plates were lifted, to an outcry of excitement from all sides but Sanzo and Jianyi, and though Gojyo didn't say a word, he didn't recognize half of what was on the table. Instead, Gojyo took the first thing he could identify (a hearty slice of that lamb leg Koumyou had brought in) and sniffed every plate as it came past him. He began to pick up on what was what – those funny green egg rolls were grape leaves stuffed with mushrooms and onions, the white pasta with big meatballs was a Vietnamese pork meatball over rice noodles, that wasn't ham wrapped around melon but prosciutto and it was popular in Spain, those crispy things were deep-fried lotus root – and luckily, it all smelled amazing.
“Man, this is better than going to a buffet,” he remarked as he passed a platter of black eggs that smelled of oranges and spice to Baldy Two on his left, to a few chuckles from nearby.
“It's fun,” Genkai said from his place, smiling peaceably. “We all get together to share where we've been, and bring a little of it with us.”
“A fine meal is a fleeting pleasure, but one best enjoyed in good company.” Koumyou lifted a teacup, and many of the others followed suit with water or wine glasses. "Cheers. I'm glad to see you all again."
There were answers of "Cheers," and murmurs of agreement, before Koumyou turned to Genkai. "You said you brought dolmas, old friend? How did Greece treat you?"
"Better than its citizens, sadly." Genkai smiled wryly. "Even despite its current troubles, Athens is still beautiful. I admit I spent longer in Germany this year, but, well... I suppose I was thinking of Goudai."
Jianyi pulled a face behind his wine glass, as Koumyou sighed. "It's still fresh for me, too. He would have loved them, you did a fantastic job."
"Goudai," Sanzo said, in a voice meant for Gojyo, "was an old friend of my father's who passed a few years ago."
"I think we all miss my old mentor." All eyes shot to Jianyi with irritation when he spoke over his folded hands and tented fingers. "Even so, I imagine he'd be loathe to think of us all moping about him now, wouldn't you agree, Genjo?" His dark eyes glimmered with mischief, and he failed to disguise a smirk. Sanzo snorted and turned his attention to his plate, but Gojyo felt compelled to say something:
"He'd probably be glad you all thought of him, anyway. It's nice to remember folks who're gone, not for them, but for you, y'know? Those good memories are still good." He picked up one of the fried lotus root chips with his fingers, imitating Baldy One across the table, as Genkai cracked a little smile.
"You speak like someone who's lost someone dear to you, but with the strength to remember them fondly. Admirable, in a boy your age."
“Well, we can't all be worldly little monks, can we?” Jianyi tossed his head back and laughed. Genkai flushed, but Gojyo brushed it off as if he hadn't spoken.
“Oh, you're a monk, are you? Like, what kind?”
“Holy Land Buddhist,” Koumyou and Sanzo both answered.
“It's how we met.” Koumyou nudged Genkai with his hand. “All of us were students of Buddhism under a wise teacher, and we became a social group outside of meditation sessions and sutra readings.”
“With one notable exception.” Fey guy was glaring daggers at Jianyi again, who was much more interested in the bottom of his wine glass.
“Guilty as charged.” Jianyi put his glass down and put it towards the center of the table, and Koumyou took up the canter and refilled it. “I was actually an apprentice under dear deceased Goudai, and got pulled in by him.”
“I think he thought we would be good influences.” Baldy One smirked a bit, then tucked a whole shumai into his mouth. “Mmh, Excellent, Jyoan.”
“Thank you.” Fey guy smirked like a satisfied cat, then glanced sideways to Gojyo. “So, aside from our odd man out, we all came up together.”
"We're all relatively faithful, though I admit Koumyou's, er, non-traditional." The Colonel chuckled, as Koumyou flapped a hand.
"I live my own way, and I don't think I've hurt anyone so far." He winked at Sanzo. "I'm not so bad, am I?"
"Yeah, yeah. Do as you please, as long as you don't hurt anyone," Sanzo muttered, stabbing at the dolmas piled on his plate.
"That's the Hippocratic oath, Genjo." Jianyi wagged a finger. "And really, Seiran knows more about that." Baldy Two snorted, and Gojyo could have sworn he muttered something like:
"Keep my name off your lips."
"You're a doctor?" Gojyo asked, before Jianyi could engage a second further. Baldy Two raised a brow, then nodded.
"Myself and Soujin both." He motioned to the Colonel. "I've been researching methods for recovering from brain damage post-trauma and seizures."
"Pediatrics, with Médecins Sans Frontières. It seemed a natural progression after being in the Marines, to me, anyway!" The Colonel chuckled again, stroking his beard (or maybe wiping a little of that white yogurt sauce out of it, there was a reason Gojyo didn't like beards much). "Perhaps our new guest deserves a bit more explanation."
“Oh, right. Genjo likely didn't tell him about all of his uncles.” Fey guy sneered a bit, but smirked at Gojyo. “I'm an anthropologist and writer. I've been examining some non-conforming villages in China. Do you know there are subcultures wherein marriage isn't practiced? At all?”
“We can talk studies later.” Glasses guy adjusted his spectacles, but Gojyo could feel him examining him under the wire rims. “I'm a reporter. My forte is in covering disasters, though I admit I don't care for it nearly as much as covering the recovery.”
With that, everyone around the table gave his profession. Big Guy was a food writer who traveled the world writing about unique cuisines for a major food magazine Gojyo had never heard of, Baldy One taught English in underprivileged remote Japanese villages, Shouty guy paused briefly in devouring from some Thai-fried rice to explain that he was a soccer coach. Every one of these men touched ground in multiple countries a year, and the hosts were no exception, just like Sanzo had said.
“I'm a curator for the International Foundation for Art research.” Koumyou beamed and gestured to some of the posters. “They trust my instincts enough to let me choose where to search, and I find pieces and build exhibitions for museums around the world.”
“His taste is world-renowned.” Jianyi gave Koumyou a rather heated look and a smirk that wasn't entirely sarcastic, which only put the needles a little deeper under Gojyo's skin. “Even I can admit some of his collections are unique in ways hard to put into words.”
“Which says something, though I'm not certain what.” Koumyou giggled softly, and Gojyo saw Sanzo wince as he stroked his fingers down his arm.
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yuehong · 6 years
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I am about to finish my studies soon (ugh) and I started to reflect on a lot of stuff. It's pointless to share everything here, though, one thing which frequently comes to my mind are racial issues (unsurprisingly). I feel like dumping some stuff on my blog for no specific reason. Some of these have been mentioned before. The way my brain works is sometimes weird when it's past midnight.
When I was 4, I was bullied in kindergarten. Children made fun of my name and I went home crying every day till I switched to another kindergarten.
In elementary school our crafts teacher decided to let us design masks for carnival. She had a few suggestions like clowns, monsters, animals and Chinese. She described how they looked and drew a caricature on the blackboard. The other kids compared the image to me. I felt extremely uncomfortable and cried (again). I left the room to calm down. The teacher apologized by claiming that she had no ill intentions and that it was meant in a positive way as Chinese tend to have cute little noses.
Also, while I was elementary school age, my sister and I were wearing a Chinese shirt when we went grocery shopping with my dad. A lady with (probably) her child pointed at us, telling her child: "Look, there are Chinese!"
Also, during elementary school some of my classmates at some point learnt the German chant "ching chang chong - Chinese im Karton" (ching chang chong - Chinese in cardboard box) and followed me around while saying that.
My elementary school teacher also often wanted me to say things in Chinese or sing Chinese songs in front of the others.
When we started to receive grades in school, my mother told me, I needed to be great. Later, when I had to look for a job and had the same qualification as a German, the employer would choose the other person first. I was 8 at that time.
A guest in our restaurant brought a coin of the Qing dynasty to us. He told us it was the possession of his grandfather. He didn't know why he possessed it. My mother knew. Because of colonialism.
I cannot remember any representation of Chinese in media aside from the comic WITCH during my childhood.
After elementary school one goes to secondary school based on qualifications during the last year of elementary school. The "good" students go to the Gymnasium. My mother regularly read a newspaper about German-Chinese issues. Often economy-related. In one issue, a Chinese girl wrote about her experience at Gymnasium. She took part in a competition and placed second. While the school paid tribute to the winner, the Chinese girl was in the audience. She was approached by a stranger who asked her what she was doing there because that person assumed a Chinese couldn't be good enough to go to Gymnasium.
Once after a school trip I was sitting on the bus. Some of my classmates thought I already got off the bus and started to talk about me. The content in and on itself wasn't negative. They started to project from me onto 1.3 billion other people. I noticed, to them I represented all Chinese people.
During a violin event a girl told me I didn't look like a Chinese because my eyes were too big.
When I was in 7th grade, the "red spies" who came to steal and copy German technology hit the news. During a certain period of time then news frequently reported such instances. On a German-Chinese forum, several Chinese wrote that they suddenly found themselves jobless because their employers fired them without any reason (aside from fear that they could be spies). I realized my mother was right. I will have a disadvantage on the job market and I am easily disposable.
In 7th grade we had a skiing excursion. There was a presentation on climate change and the teacher claimed that China had a major impact on the climate. Responsibilities of other countries went unmentioned. I cried (a reoccurring habit). My roommates during the trip told the teacher and he apologized and explained that he understood that European countries had a big footprint.
In 9th grade I found a note next to my seat in the bus, roughly saying "You look cute Manga girl. Call me: xxxx".
A half-Indian friend wrote me that their brother liked his time in the US a lot. Less people would be envious of his success despite him being Indian. Later on that friend wrote me they were bullied. It was evident that them being half-Indian was a factor. I was... too young and my support was useless and not helpful at all. (still young tho and still making so many mistakes).
When I aced an exam, a friend would say: "That's our Chinese!"
A friend would randomly say "Confucius said"
A teacher would ask if Chinese used huge keyboards with all hanzi characters to type into their computers.
A teacher jokingly said, I would be an expert in eating dogs.
In grade 12 (roughly a year before graduating) an epidemic broke out in Germany and few other European nations. Chinese scientists figured out the genetic makeup of the specific virus and Spiegel ("mirror", a German news agency) wrote an article about how it was possible that out of all things it was Chinese scientists in Shenzhen who figured out what virus was causing troubles. Their answer: It was pure coincidence.
A student and a teacher would discuss that Buddhism is sexist because no female found enlightenment. At some point I was like no, and their only response was, oh.
During preparation courses for university another Asian guy in my course said if his family stayed in their home country, he'd be a farmer with several wives now. His new-found ethnically European friends laughed.
The week before first courses started at university for me, a group of drunk students stood in front of my dorm and called me "Ling Ling". I didn't know them.
Autumn after my first year in university, a 15 yo half-Chinese boy was beaten up in Hamburg by right wing extremists. He suffered trauma.
In the canteen a group of students were joking about how Muslims are terrorists and had several wives.
In the canteen a guy told his friends he would go to Thailand for vacation. His friend told him, he should get a Thai girl as souvenir.
A Chinese overseas student admitted to me they felt depressed because of how Germans saw themselves above Chinese and the effeminating view on Asian men.
A few German people told me, colonialism had good aspects. One of those people is one of my best friends.
In a students association which promoted social internships, they used random pictures of "poor, little African children" as advertisement for their volunteering program.
A Chinese overseas student recounted they could not join German flat sharing communities. He was denied because Chinese cuisine had a too strong smell due to spices and garlic. They didn't want that in their flats.
A Japanese friend of mine who came to my city and paid a visit to the museum was followed by a few guys who would chant "ni hao" behind her.
I joined a volunteering program in China. Another international participant was very vocal about how China is bad in so many ways. There was no real coffee. The food is too fatty. It is no wonder that Chinese men don't grow muscles. She had no interest in learning about Tibetan Buddhist art. "If it was Italian art from the renaissance, ok. But Buddhist art? Hmpf. No".
The Chinese in the organizing committee would frequently use the word 那个 (neige, "that") to describe things. Some of the volunteers would parrot them. (I am not sure if there is a relation but 那个 does sound similar to the N-word.)
An ethnically Chinese girl who was raised in Germany rejects her Chinese heritage and Chinese people.
Once I was waiting for a friend. Some guy would ask me where I was from. I said Germany. They laughed.
Often when people ask me where I am from and I respond with Germany there would be surprise in their mimic followed by silence.
My mother grew tired of people asking her when she will go back to China. Now she answers, she will first have to clarify whether she will still receive pension abroad.
I heard people say that the person who thinks something is racist, is the racist person because they interpret something as racist.
Someone told me they can't stand Mainland China
Last autumn I woke up in Hong Kong to the news of a right wing party being elected to the third strongest party in Germany.
A Chinese overseas student told me she got assigned the easy parts in projects because her German was not good enough. The subtle feeling of superiority makes her uncomfortable.
A select few instances. And the conclusion: My life is good. The things I faced are pretty common for German-Chinese to my understanding. I'm sure all German-Chinese have experienced a subset of my experiencs. And they have experienced things which I haven't. I'm sure there are people who have it worse. My experiences were probably on the lucky end. But I still want all of this to end.
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