Walking Through Open Doors

Chapter 1 - Bottle Cap Fate

Author's Notes:

Hey! I'm back with another fic! This one will have 13 chapters and it's mostly written, just going through and editing. This is a Hallmark-style slow-burn kidfic, with a teeny tiny sprinkle of angst. Happy ending, I promise.

Some fic housekeeping: my ZZS is a few years older than in SHL (36). WKX is about canon age (28). ZCL is still 13. GX is 23. YBY is fun uncle age. JBY and WX are a few years older than ZZS.

I also have a different style of Mini-Theaters in this fic – this time some of them are 'mini-future-theaters' which will be a snippet from something in the future, after the ending of the fic. You could probably see them as mini-epilogues. Just a scene or dialogue here and there. If you think this is a spoiler, the happy ending above should have tipped you off that WenZhou end up together. ^ ^ It wont spoil the fic itself. <3 

Enjoy!

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Wen Ke Xing had been excited just a mere five minutes ago, maybe even two minutes ago. The possibilities were always endless for blind dates, and he could never resist letting his imagination run wild as he walked towards the café, restaurant, theatre, club or whatever the location was for the approaching date.

Would the man be tall and handsome? Have a sexy voice? Warm eyes and hot lips? Would he be smart? Would he be funny? Wen Ke Xing did love a man who could make him laugh, sometimes even more than he loved strong shoulders and perky ass. Not that he actually knew many of those. And the few that he knew, were either married or straight. Pity.

Unfortunately, all of those butterflies—the ones that tends to buzz with excitement of a new man and the prospect that this could be the very first date with the man he would marry—well, they go flying for the hills, screaming, when the man sneezes right as Wen Ke Xing walks up to the table that he had booked just two days earlier. Not because of the sneeze itself, the man could have seasonal allergies. End of February could maybe be considered super early spring if he squints, tilts his head and imagines that there are some buds on the bare trees along the river. No, his butterflies went into hiding inside a nailed shut coffin because the man wipes his nose with his right hand, and then holds it out, expecting Wen Ke Xing to shake it.

"You don't have a cat, do you?" The man, Wang Xiao Ming, looks at him with suspicion written all over his face—which, rude—before continuing, "because Luo Fu Meng promised me that you didn't have a cat."

Wen Ke Xing tries to coerce his facial muscles into a smile as he takes his seat across from his date, "I take it that you're not a cat person?"

"No." The man scans the table for a napkin, as if that would help now? His germs are already all over the table—and Wen Ke Xing's hand. If anything, Wen Ke Xing is the one who needs a napkin. He should excuse himself and go wash his hands.

"Dog person?" Wen Ke Xing tries and cranes his neck to see where the waiter is. He is likely going to need a drink to get through the next hour, or even just the next minute. Maybe even a full bottle of something red. Italians did have some great wine and they are at an authentic restaurant that has been run for over three generations by an immigrant Italian family. It's one of his favorite Italian restaurants in Chengdu. It's also the one that is closest to his apartment. In case he gets lucky.

"NO!" The man looks offended by the mere question. Okay then, not an animal person? To be fair, they probably don't like him either. Wen Ke Xing sighs internally and regrets having done his hair in stylish volume to highlight the undercut, but also to showcase his excellent bone structure. And he clearly didn't need to wear his new boxers from Calvin Klein or his snug, black fuck-me-jeans.