Chapter Text
When Mo Ran was little he couldn’t wait for when he could enter the reaping. The promise of food for himself and his mom was worth the risk of entering the arena. The day he could enter his name in the lottery he submitted it as many times as he could. His writing was too messy and unsure of what character to write for himself to scribble his own name on the slips of paper so someone had to write his name for him. They all acted like they pitied him, but he knew that in secret they hoped his name would be chosen so that their own precious children could be spared.
But the day of the reaping came too late. The Hunger Games were too late. His mom died in the night three days before names were drawn and rewards were distributed, leaving the young boy with small, worthless clippings of paper he could trade in for food at the start of each month following the reaping. Mo Ran sat alone in the abandoned shack with his mom’s body that night but didn’t cry. The world felt empty and numb and if he cried he would never stop. He would scream and wail and beg to die with her.
He sat with his mom an entire day more before seeking help, moving door to door asking for anyone to lend him a cart so he could bury his mom at the small district cemetery. No one did, so Mo Ran carried her on his back to the outskirts of the district where the community cemetery rested. He tried to dig an unmarked grave for her at the edge of the fence in the cold, dark night. Even there he was chased away for digging a grave without paying the fee. He had no money to give. That night he was chased out even as he offered the scraps of paper that held his reward for increasing his chances at the upcoming reaping, but the papers were taken and he was chased away, clutching his mom’s stiff body.
He tried to bury her on a small farm but was chased away again. And in the forest between the lower town and main peak of the mountainous district, but yet again, when his hole was almost big enough to hold his mother’s body, he was discovered and chased away with abuse. Over and over he tried to find a place for his mother to be buried in the district so new to them both, but nowhere welcomed her grave without payment.
It took two days to find where he could bury her without abuse outside the fences of the district. Mo Ran finally cried as he tried to dig another grave. He sobbed with each handful of soil he pulled from the earth. That night, unable to see exactly who, a young man approached with warm food and helped him dig his mother’s grave. Mo Ran hugged her body and sobbed as the stranger dug in silence. When the young man left Mo Ran alone to mourn and pray, he draped a white cloak muddied brown over the twelve year old’s shoulders before returning to the fence that bordered the district, warning Mo Ran that the peacekeepers will find him there if he stays past dawn.
When the reaping came, Mo Ran sincerely hoped his name was drawn from the shiny glass sphere.
It wasn’t.
Since then, Mo Ran has entered his name as many times as possible each reaping. He’s entered it so many times he’s learned to write his name. It’s the one use for it. The only time he writes it.
Mo. Ran.
Pick. Me.
Most of the supplies he earns from these compounding entries go straight to the Drunken Jade as payment for room and board per the terms of his adoption and employment. It’s why Madam Mo elected to adopt him rather than merely employ him: she’s entitled to his rewards even if he is reaped that way. Mo Ran wishes he hadn’t accepted the cruel offer, but he also can’t begrudge the choices of a child seeking survival as he fled to Xun Fengrou after his mother’s death.
A pittance of each month’s reward he gets to keep for himself. Just enough to share with his jiejies at the start of each month. All of them are too old to enter their names now, much to Mo Ran’s relief. Mostly interacting with the women of the entertainment house, he’s always more anxious watching the girls’ reaping than the boys so he’s glad those he knows personally are no longer eligible. When he gets his monthly allowance he tries to stretch the reward out as many nights as he can to supplement the three pancakes each to get throughout the day. Usually it only supplements a single dinner, but in that moment Mo Ran sits on the floor with his friends and feasts feeling like a rich man. Those are the moments he enjoys the most.
The last few days Mo Ran has been avoiding the Drunken Jade as much as possible. As the reaping draws closer, Madam Mo and Mo Nian get more and more anxious about it. Mo Nian is a year younger than Mo Ran. At 17, Mo Nian’s name will be entered five times. It’s five times more than they would like. And whenever Mo Ran is at the entertainment house he’s reminded of it. Mo Nian taunts that he has only five entries to Mo Ran’s fifty-three– an accumulation of the years of repeated maximum entries as Madam Mo takes in more orphans to maximize her son’s odds while gaining their rewards. Mo Ran tries not to feel bitter and resentful at it. He tries to believe that it’s good that some people aren’t forced to increase their misfortunate odds, but still a bitterness hangs in the back of his mouth to know those in the most need are the ones hurt the most by it.
Worse than Mo Nian taunting him to mask his stress is Madam Mo who constantly summons Mo Ran to her office to remind him that if Mo Nian’s name is reaped, Mo Ran has to volunteer for him. Her words are vague but the threat is clear: if such a thing happens and Mo Nian is reaped, Mo Ran’s life will be worse than a death in the area should he not take his place.
Mo Ran is as good as a Capitol mutt in the arena. Madam Mo has raised him for slaughter like a lamb or a pig. Meat to feed her son off of, prolonging his life and prosperity with a knife pressed against Mo Ran’s throat.
It’s one thing to die because of the odds mounted against him, it’s another to die for Mo Nian. Mo Ran is not willing to do that, but he can’t help but feel fear at the idea of what would happen to him if he were to not. The one time he truly acted against Madam Mo’s will by helping a young woman escape the Drunken Jade and district as a whole, he was locked in a mutt cage while incense burned around him to mask the scent of his week long captivity. That was only losing Madam Mo a girl. He can’t imagine the suffering she would dole out on everyone should she lose her son.
Therefore, as much as he can, Mo Ran has been avoiding the Drunken Jade the last few days with the reaping fast approaching. Any task that can be assigned outside the house he grabs for himself. Today is deliveries from the kitchens the moment he finishes cooking them instead of taking his short rest.
Already Mo Ran has carried his deliveries through the wealthier neighborhood of the district for those observing the eve of the reaping. The Victor’s Village especially is a wonder to him, where people can afford to hire gardeners to encourage pretty flowers and bushes of berries to grow. One hot summer when the Drunken Jade closed for a few days, Mo Ran managed to nab a job watering plants from the Xue family. It was one of the best, most stress-free periods of Mo Ran’s life.
The Xues are kind. They’re one of the few families Mo Ran doesn’t resent for their status and wealth. Xue Zhengyong suffered for it by winning his Games, and uses his role of community leader and liaison with the Capitol to help others as much as he can. Everyone sees him fight tooth and claw to bring a few more resources to the mountain, resources they need and desperately lack. They see him distribute what he can get throughout the towns rather than stockpiling them for himself as Mo Ran knows happens in other districts. And everyone sees him take children under his arm to mentor or even raise. Mo Ran can’t help but wonder how different his life would have been if Xue Zhengyong found him after his mother died rather than running directly to Madam Mo.
The problem was Mo Ran had faced so much cruelty in his early years he couldn’t believe such a person existed. He thought if he asked for help his life would get worse. It did once, long, long ago and far away when he asked his father for help. So why, upon arriving in this district and losing his mom would he think its victors any different?
Mo Ran knocks on the door and waits carrying the large wooden box filled with rolls he cooked and five single serving osmanthus cakes he made earlier in the day. He is proud of them. They look perfect. Delicious. He wishes he could taste them. But the last scraping of batter from the mixing bowl that he poured onto a small pan he passed off to a new girl in the house who was faring poorly and needed an emotional boost as the reaping approaches and her little sister’s name was entered for the first time.
The door opens and Xue Zhengyong’s son stands in front of him. He looks tall but is actually quite short. His posture inflates his presence enough to trick the eye. He has a delicate, noble face with a pointed chin and narrow shoulders even for a sixteen year old boy. And he's dressed in lavish clothes. It's clear that they're celebrating.
Or, with the reaping tomorrow, it's more likely that they're sharing one final guaranteed meal as a family together.
Xue Meng looks Mo Ran up and down with a judgemental expression. Suddenly Mo Ran is aware how dusty his legs are and how his hands are cracked and stained. He doesn't look at all like the employee of the Drunken Jade. He again feels like the little kid on the street begging for money. For a fraction of a second he thinks that Xue Meng is going to grab the box and slam the door in his face without paying and Mo Ran will have to beg.
“Who's that, Meng'er?” A woman's voice calls from deeper in the house. Xue Meng calls over his shoulder “That gardener guy.”
Mo Ran shifts uncomfortably. “I'm actually here with the food you ordered from the Jade.”
“Invite him in!” Xue Zhengyong calls back walking quickly down the entryway. “Don't make him stand in the heat of the day.”
“But his shoes are dirty!” Xue Meng yells back in disgust as a newfound embarrassment blooms in Mo Ran’s chest. He can’t help but look down at his worn out shoes covered in dust from walking the steps up to the highest settlement of the district.
“I really should be going back,” Mo Ran tries to excuse himself.
“Nonsense,” Xue Zhengyong wraps an arm around Mo Ran’s shoulder and pulls him inside. “I'll walk you back when we're done and explain I had a few jobs for you. We're having a little birthday celebration before the reaping. You're still reaping age, aren't you, Mo Ran?”
He pulls Mo Ran inside and down the hall as Mo Ran admits it's his last year. Xue Zhengyong tries to act excited for him but it's impossible to hide the flash of concern in his eyes. Surely he's able to guess how many times Mo Ran’s name is entered into the reaping.
He leads Mo Ran down the entryway and into the kitchen alive with the scents of cooking and people talking. Xue Meng trots behind them carrying the box Mo Ran delivered and peaking inside. Mo Ran can hear his delighted gasps seeing the cakes before he shoves past the two into the kitchen calling, “Shi Mei! Shi Mei, it's here!”
Inside, the kitchen is bright. Natural light flows in through the windows, each and every one open wide on the hot August day in an attempt to ease the building heat of summer. Sheer curtains drift with the faint breeze. On the windowsill of the most prominent window is a tall vase filled with an entire branch of flowers. Mo Ran isn’t quite sure what it is, just that he’s seen it outside the perimeter of the fences outlining the district. He knows because a few times over the years he’s climbed through the fences to visit where he thinks he buried his mother that night, he thinks that’s where the unmarked grave is thanks to the old tree. He's never seen another one within the fences of the district or anywhere else on the mountain.
Despite not knowing what it is and knowing the painful memories bound to it, Mo Ran likes it. It brings a little more life to an already lively room.
Xue Zhengyong’s wife stands next to the stove, tending an array of bubbling pots. She looks hot, dewey and pink faced as she works, but nobly beautiful too. She carries the same dignity as her son without the obtuse pride. On the counter next to her is an array of chopped vegetables waiting their turn in the pan, clearly abandoned by Xue Meng or his dad when Mo Ran knocked.
At the table another person sits, one Mo Ran recognizes clearly despite focusing all his attention on the small metal contraption in his hands without bothering to look up at the incoming guest: Chu Wanning.
Everyone within the bounds of Sisheng Peak knows Chu Wanning. He won his own Hunger Games nearly a decade and a half ago when he was only fourteen. He’s still one of the youngest winners to date and holds the third highest kill count.
Chu Wanning’s name was never reaped. His name was not drawn. From what is understood, his name was only in the glass sphere the three times it was required for his age. But when another boy was reaped, a child of only twelve, fourteen year old Chu Wanning looked to his father who shook his head no and stepped forward anyways. When he did this he originally lived in the third district of Wubei, but after volunteering he sparked a total upset and asked not to work with his home’s mentor– his own father. He turned away from the great mentor Huaizui intending to enter the arena entirely alone with no mentor to seek or distribute sponsored goods or information to learn from. Only Xue Zhengyong saw the heartbreak of a child trying to save another, and decided to mentor another tribute that was not of his home.
Xue Zhengyong was still young then. He was only two years out of his own games and barely eighteen himself. That year both of Sisheng Peak’s tributes were older than him, each approaching the end of their eighteenth years as he only just entered his. He was still shaky on his feet and unsure of how to mentor since escaping his own Games. But he sought sponsorships for the fourteen year old alone in the Games and sent him blankets and cordage and food when he had no reason to. He even personally spent his own money to send Chu Wanning a short letting telling him he isn’t alone and he’s watching over him as best he could.
After that, somehow, Chu Wanning was allowed to move from District 3 not to the Capitol but to District 11's Sisheng Peak. Everyone knows it’s because of the drama that it caused. It created a show for Capitol citizens to watch and enjoy, as well as sparking a rivalry between the two districts, even though it’s one that exists only in theory. In truth, everyone only fights to survive. Made up grudges don’t matter anymore once in the arena. Not for those who are not career tributes.
There is always a single image that comes to mind whenever Chu Wanning is mentioned: the moment of his win.
Clad entirely in white robes of a traditional style as were given the tributes of that year’s Games, Chu Wanning stepped through the light breaking through the treeline with the setting sun. In one hand he held a whip he made himself of a willow vine. In the other, a still flowering sword from an old haitang tree. Backlit by a halo, the child looked like a divine being as he stepped down the steep rock face to his final combatant. He looked unphased by it, as though the Hunger Games were something he always expected and the end is inevitable. Up to this point he had not killed except those left behind by crueler tributes to bleed out, die of infection, or be bait to try to lure Chu Wanning out from wherever he hid. When Chu Wanning appeared, dying tributes found it to be a mercy of the gods, although that only made him all the more terrifying being such a young angel of death.
There on that stoney slope, backlit by the sun, Chu Wanning fought his first and last battle. When it ended, his combatant was spreaded through, bleeding over the flowers of his makeshift sword while red poured from his own chest. He stood huffing heavily, not daring to move even when the cannon echoed through the arena and an emanating announcement declared through the skies that that year’s victor to be Chu Wanning.
When he did move, it was not to step into the hovercraft lowering into the arena for him, but to slowly limp to the edge of the stream and wash away the penultimate tribute's blood from his hands.
Now he looks far less godly in the lively kitchen hunched over the table with the tip of his tongue peaking out from between his lips and his eyebrows drawn together in aggravated concentration as he unfolds and refolds the piece of thin metal in his hands. But just because he doesn’t look like a god descended onto the earth does not mean a mere glance at him doesn’t make Mo Ran’s heart jump at the sight. He’s only seen Chu Wanning through glimpses over the years. In large part, Chu Wanning is reclusive. He most often stays in the Victor’s Village where only he and the Xues live. Sometimes he moves through town buying supplies for the day or placing orders for shipments and meals to be delivered. On more than one occasion has Mo Ran stood near the window of the Drunken Jade hoping that he’ll turn and come inside to indulge but the most he does is shoot the building a disgruntled glance and hurries away. A few times he saw him when he was lucky enough to garden for Xue Zhengyong, once encountering Chu Wanning towering over him with an obvious look of confusion as he carefully picked worms off the cement walkway up to the house. Each and every time Mo Ran has seen him his heart does the same exact jump of excitement at the beautiful man.
From a back room, carrying an armload of packages, another person Mo Ran recognizes pushes his way into the room: Shi Mei. At first Mo Ran made the same mistake so many people do and thought he was a girl. His face is round and circular, his eyes large and peach blossom. And he always has a warm smile on his face until he's addressed as though he were a teenage girl. Then that warmth flickers into an icy coldness until he receives the rushed apology he deserves.
From what Mo Ran understands, Shi Mei’s situation is similar to his own: an orphan who found himself at Sisheng Peak not by birthright but by encounter. The difference is that Mo Ran found himself in the hands of Madam Mo after his mom died while Shi Mei found himself under Xue Zhengyong’s care. Although he is technically a live-in employee, to be permitted to reside in the Victor’s Village not as blood family, Xue Zhengyong treats him like a son. Still, unlike Xue Meng, Shi Mei steps into a service role.
Mo Ran smiles at him and Shi Mei gives a polite nod back.
“Set an additional seat,” Xue Zhengyong says to Shi Mei. “Ran’er’s going to eat with us.”
“Of course,” Shi Mei says. He sets his armful of packages down and is about to turn to get dishes from the cupboard when Xue Meng hurries over to him whispering “Look at these! Chu Wanning will—”
Chu Wanning’s eyes flit up at the sound of his name. He lets his hands drop to the table. “What about me?”
“Nothing!” Xue Meng says shoving the box Mo Ran brought into Shi Mei’s hands. “It’s a surprise. You don’t get to know.”
Chu Wanning’s expression hardens like ice forming over the surface of a dark lake. Something lurks beneath but under the cold layer it’s impossible to tell exactly what. He scowls at Xue Meng and says, “If it’s about me it’s not a surprise. What’s in there?”
Xue Meng hesitates before he rolls his eyes and takes the box from Shi Mei.
“We wanted to get something nice for your birthday,” Xue Meng says setting it on the table. He sounds deeply disappointed as he explains. “So we all put in a little to get these. It was supposed to be a surprise after dinner.”
Chu Wanning leans forward and peers into the box. Immediately the coldness vanishes and his lips fall into a soft oh before he quickly steels himself again.
“It’s a good thought,” Chu Wanning says. “I’m glad you got enough to share with everyone.”
Immediately Xue Meng brightens. Shi Mei does too, although in a far more reserved manner. Behind the two Wang Chuqing smiles at the boys’ generosity and thoughtfulness.
Still standing by the door with Xue Zhengyong, Mo Ran watches the scene as though it were projected onto a screen for him. It tells him that he’s a total outsider intruding on this family the day before the reaping as they celebrate a birthday. At minimum, two of them will leave as mentors tomorrow while the possibility lingers that three in total will leave. He knows Xue Meng is of reaping age, while Shi Mei looks like he might be a little too old for it but really there is no way of telling for sure without asking, and if there’s one thing Mo Ran won’t do, it’s ask if he’s eligible to die. He really shouldn't intrude on this family's moment and should return to work before he gets in trouble.
He doesn't get to leave. Xue Zhengyong blocks Mo Ran’s path to the door saying he hasn't paid him yet and instead guides him further inside with the promise of payment after they celebrate and eat. Mo Ran awkwardly shuffles in unable to stop himself from intruding on the family scene. The easiest thing he can do is hurry past Chu Wanning at the table to where Wang Chuqing works, throwing himself into cooking for the family while excusing her from the hot stove. Letting her sit and converse while taking over the meal feels less like an intrusion.
No one seems to object. Xue Meng and Shi Mei work on clearing the table of Chu Wanning’s tools and metal scraps. Wang Chuqing sits opposite Chu Wanning talking with him with her husband dangling off her, clearly upset he's about to leave for at minimum a week to go help tributes die. Chu Wanning participates in the conversation but keeps his eyes tilted downwards on what little of his chaotic mess remains in front of him.
Mo Ran redoubled his efforts to make a good meal for them. He repeatedly glances over his shoulder wondering if this is what a family is supposed to look like. It must be, as Xue Meng brings out a small box for Chu Wanning to unwrap as he and Shi Mei stand shoulder to shoulder awaiting judgment on the gift.
By the time the meal is ready to eat, Mo Ran’s stomach is growling. Doubt is starting to fill the void in his stomach. He heard Xue Zhengyong announce he would be staying for the meal and watched Shi Mei add an additional setting, but it feels unreal. It feels like a taunt and a tease, like so many years ago when that fat little boy in District 1 fed scraps to a dog rather than letting Mo Ran eat them off the ground. He doesn’t believe that of Xue Zhengyong but it’s hard to overcome the conditioning of a lifetime.
Mo Ran hangs back pretending to busy himself at the stove as everyone sits with the dishes strewn over the tables. He hovers, ready to dart towards the door at the slightest wrong glance while hoping to be invited to sit too.
At first no one notices him hanging back as they all dig into the food. Xue Meng is the loudest, eagerly delighting in the meal. Chu Wanning is the quietest, locked in muted conversation with Xue Zhengyong who laughs loudly and slaps a hearty hand on his back making his whole body jerk forward. He shoots Xue Zhengyong a scorned glare that only makes the boisterous man laugh even louder as if his dirty look was a joke in and of itself.
It’s Shi Mei who notices Mo Ran standing while everyone else loads their places full. He nudges Xue Meng with his elbow and whispers something. Xue Meng looks up with noodles hanging out of his mouth. He quickly swallows them as Mo Ran approaches the table ready to offer thanks for letting him inside but insisting that he needs to return to work.
“Hey!” he cuts Mo Ran off before he can say anything. “Why are you just standing there? Sit down. You’re making us all uncomfortable.”
Mo Ran doesn’t sit down. He looks around the table with an apology on his lips when Chu Wanning pulls out the vacant chair next to him and turns back to his plate and conversation with Xue Zhengyong. It’s a clear indication that while Mo Ran making everyone uncomfortable by awkwardly standing, it’s not a demand he leave. And given it’s Chu Wanning’s birthday celebration and he will be the one leaving for the Capitol after the reaping tomorrow, Mo Ran accepts his permission and sits on the very edge of the chair.
Mo Ran glances over to Shi Mei who sits on the opposite edge of the table's corner that Mo Ran sits at. He smiles and quietly says, “Thanks.”
Shi Mei gives him a tight smile that makes Mo Ran’s heart flutter. “We all want to eat,” he says. “And today there’s enough food to share.”
Mo Ran’s stomach growls again. From his other side, Chu Wanning doesn’t even look at him, merely shoving a beef dish in Mo Ran’s direction. Mo Ran thanks him as he scoops an exceedingly small portion onto his plate but to Mo Ran’s disappointment he doesn’t respond. He wants Chu Wanning’s attention on him again and yet Chu Wanning’s attention rememains directed at the conversation he shares with Xue Zhengyong.
Mo Ran eats quietly at first. And then starts to talk to Shi Mei across from him, and then Xue Meng joins in. It doesn't take long before they're all loudly jabbering away as though they've been friends for years and years. A total lightness fills Mo Ran that he hasn't known in a very long time as joy spreads through him and that ever carving hunger dissipates with each laugh and bite. For the first time Mo Ran understands what it would be like to have a big family that loves each other. Actual family. Not just friends trapped in shared misery. He's seen it before but never felt it. The closest he ever got was the love his mom wrapped around him, but she could only ever offer the love of just one to encompass her son. It was more than enough for Mo Ran, it was all he needed, but to experience something like this big, loving family is a grace he never thought he would feel in his entire life.
Mo Ran finds Xue Meng especially funny. He's so easily riled up and so easily calmed by Shi Mei. He jabs Mo Ran back just as hard as Mo Ran jabs him until both are bent over the table trying to catch their breath from laughing. Only then does Chu Wanning cast another long glance at Mo Ran, taking him in as Mo Ran is too distracted to see. He only catches it from the corner of his eye as he leans back trying not to look at Xue Meng lest he start laughing again. Chu Wanning passes him a napkin which he uses to dab the edge of his lip, pulling it away to bloom with red dots like soft blossom of the fibers from when Chu Wanning touched it to his lips only a moment before.
Chu Wanning immediately turns pink catching Mo Ran’s eye and leans over the table to lift the lid off a covered soup Mo Ran finished, ladling a serving into a small bowl to eat.
He goes from pink to bright red with a single spoonful, immediately choking and breaking into a violent cough as he pushes the food away, spilling the bowl over the table. Tears fill his eyes and he rasps, “What the hell is this?”
Immediately Mo Ran’s entire body heats up and he looks around in worry that he’s about to be accused of something and punished. No one notices because they’re all staring at Chu Wanning pouring himself more wine to wash away the taste in his mouth.
Mo Ran passes Chu Wanning back the napkin to cough into rather than his sleeve but it’s slapped out of his hand with a harsh, “Get off me!” Mo Ran’s hands recoil into his lap to twist into a knot. His hand stings where Chu Wanning slapped him.
Xue Meng reaches across the table to the bowl of soup asking “What’s wrong with it?” He dips a spoon into the bowl and tentatively touches it to his lips.
Mo Ran pushes his chair back and quickly stands. He’d like to help clean up the mess and make it right, but it’s better to leave before a tidal wave of punishment for ruining a dish in a district of scarcity on an auspicious day. The best way to make it right is to not take anymore of their food or their momentary joy before the reaping. He’ll make something proper and send it over in the morning as an apology and repayment for the food he ate. He ducks into a bow and quickly says, “I’m sorry for ruining your meal. I should go.”
He quickly turns and leaves before anyone can say a word. He doesn't even collect the money for the delivery. It'll just be added to his debt. He owes so much, what's the difference at this point? They shouldn’t pay for a meal ruined by him.
He’s halfway down the hall when he hears those at the table talking again. He can hear the sharp tone of Chu Wanning’s voice and winces internally pulling his shoes halfway on and hurrying out into the humidity of the summer heat.
He’s passing through the center or town when he hears someone calling, “A-Ran!”
Mo Ran speeds up a few steps then stops. He shouldn’t run away. Just because he plans to right his wrong doesn’t mean they know it, and for all they know, the family kindly invited him in to share a meal the day before the reaping, which he stole and left after ruining their food. He doesn’t even know what he did wrong. He tried the soup and thought it was good. It was better than he usually makes with stronger spices than even the Drunken Jade has to offer.
Shi Mei jogs up behind him. His cheeks are red with the heat of the day and he raises a hand to cast a shadow over his eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Mo Ran says. “I was just going back to make something better. I was going to bring it–”
“It’s not your fault,” Shi Mei says. “Chu Wanning can’t eat anything spicy. Those spices were out for the rest of us to add after the fact. But you didn’t know.”
Mo Ran frowns. He didn’t know but he still ruined the meal.
Shi Mei pulls out a napkin, the bundled napkin Mo Ran tried to pass Chu Wanning and stained with pink blossom stains. He gives Mo Ran a gentle smile and says, “Here. You should have this.”
Mo Ran dubiously takes it and unfurls the edges like a lotus beginning to bloom. Inside is one of the round osmanthus cakes Mo Ran made upon the Xues order to the Drunken Jade. Mo Ran stares at it with his mouth ajar and looks up at Shi Mei whose eyes are locked on the cake.
“I can’t.” Mo Ran tries to pass it back to him. “This is too much. It was my fault.”
Shi Mei wraps his hands around Mo Ran’s and pushes them back to him. “No, really, take it. I want you to have it.” His hands are so soft and delicate, a size smaller than Mo Ran’s and yet they feel so comforting returning the food to him, proof that he really wants Mo Ran to have it despite it meaning that he will go without. Mo Ran only brought enough for each person in the house to have one. He can’t believe Shi Mei came running after him to tell him it wasn’t his fault and give him his cake.
Mo Ran brushes one finger against Shi Mei’s and smiles. Shi Mei’s finger twitches under his.
“Your name’s going in the reaping tomorrow, right?”
Shi Mei’s smile falters and he nods. He doesn’t want to think about tomorrow.
Mo Ran glances around and back to Shi Mei. In a low voice he promises, “If your name is reaped, I’ll volunteer for you.”
“Don’t say something like that,” Shi Mei says quickly. He looks reproachful, as if Mo Ran is taunting him with something he knows he’ll ever receive. No one ever volunteers beyond the districts that raise up career tributes. Here at Sisheng Peak, only Chu Wanning has ever volunteered and he volunteered from Wubei. But the thing is, Mo Ran always assumed his name would be drawn. He hoped it when he was twelve and thought the reward would save his mom. And since then he’s entered his name as many times as allowed. Over the years, his own entries bloomed in number like a looming promise of his inevitable fate. He wouldn’t be surprised if his name has the most lots this year out of any child in the district. And while he would never, ever volunteer for Mo Nian, he would volunteer to spare the lives of those who are kind to him, whose lives matter to others. Clearly Shi Mei has that in the Xues. And here Shi Mei is being so good to him. Kind. Like a stupid but loyal dog, Mo Ran would give his life to anyone who is kind to him.
“I mean it,” Mo Ran assures. There’s a beg to his voice, asking Shi Mei to believe him. It’s obvious Shi Mei doesn’t but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he knows it in his heart.
“Shi Mei! Where’d you go!”
Shi Mei pushes the napkin into Mo Ran’s hands and Mo Ran quickly shoves it into his pocket not wanting to get Shi Mei in trouble if he snuck it out as Xue Meng spots them through the crowd and shoves through to catch up.
“You move fast,” Xue Meng says slapping a hand on Mo Ran’s shoulder and resting the other at his hip to catch his breath. “I’ll walk him back, Shi Mei. It’s okay.”
“Are you sure?” Shi Mei asks.
“Uh-huh. They can’t get mad at him if I say Dad told him to stay.”
“You don’t have to–” Mo Ran tries to object but Xue Meng shakes his head like he thinks Mo Ran is an idiot when really he’s the one who doesn’t understand the conditions of living at the Drunken Jade.
Xue Meng scoffs and brushes Mo Ran off. He instead says to Shi Mei, “You can come too if you want. We can stop and get those candies you like on the way home. I have a little more money.”
“No,” Shi Mei says. “You can go with him. I should go back. I said I’d help your mom clean up and Chu Wanning had a shipment from the Capitol outpost he wanted me to pick up before tomorrow.”
“Suit yourself,” Xue Meng shrugs. “I’ll bring some back for you then.”
With that, he hooks his arm around Mo Ran’s and starts to guide him away. Mo Ran has no choice but to keep walking with Xue Meng.
As they walk Xue Meng talks loudly and carelessly, teasing Mo Ran until he gets him to laugh again. When he spots a popular bakery for those who can afford such luxuries he eagerly asks Mo Ran if he’s been in there before. When Mo Ran says no, Xue Meng drags him inside. He orders two pastries, pulling out his own money to pay and drags Mo Ran back outside into the shade of a tree so they can split one while saving the other Chu Wanning as a special present just from him. Xue Meng watches Mo Ran expectantly as he bites into it and looks delighted when Mo Ran approves of his choice. It's sweet and sticky with a rich lemon filling that makes Mo Ran want to shove it all in his mouth in one go, making Xue Meng laugh at how messy of an eater he is. He can't help but lick his fingers as he eats it's so good. The boys chatter away under the shade of the tree sharing their lemon pastry as if they've known each other for a lifetime instead of half an hour.
Only when the pair finish their pastry does Xue Meng walk Mo Ran the rest of the way back to the Drunken Jade and the sweetness of the day despite the ruined meal is turned sour when Mo Ran sees Mo Nian lounging in the yard with a girl who giggles but shies away from his touch.
“You!” Mo Nian barks seeing Mo Ran walking up. He shoves the girl off the chair and jumps to his feet. “Where the fuck have you been! Mom was looking for you, you filthy dog! You're worse than a Capitol mutt! At least those have a use!”
“HEY!” Xue Meng jumps in front of Mo Ran yelling right back in Mo Nian's face. “Don’t talk to him like that!”
Mo Ran puts a hand on Xue Meng’s shoulder trying to pull the puffing peacock back. He doesn’t want to cause a scene and face added punishment. He really shouldn’t have accepted Xue Zhengyong’s invitation inside. It really is his fault and he doesn’t want anyone else to get in trouble for it.
“It’s fine,” Mo Ran says quietly to Xue Meng. “You can go.”
“But he can’t talk to you like that! Who the hell does he think he is!” Xue Meng says pointing at Mo Nian who turns red in anger.
“He can. It’s fine. Thanks for walking me home. I– I enjoyed helping out today.” He smiles hoping it’ll get Xue Meng to stand down. It only riles Xue Meng up more, who puffs his chest angrily while Mo Nian starts to bark at them again. Seeing the two aren’t going to stand down, Mo Ran interposes himself between them. He’s bigger than both of them and easily blocks their views of each other. He turns to Xue Meng and says, “I really enjoyed spending time with you. And thank your dad for me,” before turning back to Mo Nian. “Where’s Madam Mo?”
“Inside,” Mo Nian spits. “She thought you ran away because you’re a fucking coward who knows nothing about repaying what you owe.”
Mo Ran pushes past him, ignoring how Mo Nian shoves him hard trying to knock him over out of spite. He glances back over his shoulder at Xue Meng silently asking him to just leave it and go back to his happy family.
Xue Meng doesn’t just leave it and return to his happy family. Instead, he follows Mo Ran inside with a huff, shooting Mo Nian a dark look that almost looks silly on his delicate sixteen year old face. The moment he’s inside he stops in his tracks as a half naked woman walks past. A slew of emotions run across his face that clearly he hadn’t ever pieced together what restaurant and entertainment house actually means. Mo Ran would laugh at the hilarity of it wasn’t such an inopportune moment. But Xue Meng averts his gaze and shoves forward inside, squawking at anyone who will listen that he wants to speak with this Madam Mo lady.
Mo Ran stands outside the closed door. He can hear Xue Meng and Madam Mo talking on the other side. He hears Xue Zhengyong’s name, and Xue Meng asserting his authority. He anxiously clasps his hands behind his back knowing that what will come of this is going to be bad. But when a few of the women walk past and ask if he’s okay, he always forces on a smile and lies that he’s fine.
After a few minutes Xue Meng exits with a smile as though he won the debate, but the moment Madam Mo steps out with a soft smile anxiety wells in Mo Ran’s stomach knowing she only let the teenager think he earned victory.
“Mo Ran,” she says in a honey sweet tone that promises poison. “Young master Xue has invited you back to stay the night in the Victor’s Village to continue assisting them in preparing for the reaping tomorrow if you would like to go.”
No.
The answer written on her face is that he cannot. That if he does, someone else in the house will be punished in his place. Mo Ran bows his head to Xue Meng and replies, “That’s too kind of you but I already took too much of your time.”
Xue Meng’s smug smile falls at the response. Mo Ran can’t help but feel guilty at his refusal but it’s better for everyone this way. Instead, he thanks Xue Meng profusely and guides him out of the room.
“Are you sure?” Xue Meng asks for a third time as he guides him past the door.
“I am. I want to sleep in my own bed before the reaping,” Mo Ran assures. “Thank your family and wish Chu Wanning a happy birthday for me. And apologize for his meal. And– just tell Shi Mei thanks. He’ll know what I mean.”
“Are you really sure?” Xue Meng asks again, clearly wanting Mo Ran to come home with him and not understanding that there was never a choice. There’s a hint of surprise to his voice like a child who has never heard no before. It would be amusing if it didn’t put Mo Ran in dire straits.
“I am,” Mo Ran says and pats Xue Meng’s shoulder in a way he’s seen friends do to each other. Finally does Xue Meng accept it and leaves Mo Ran alone with Madam Mo. Total silence fills the room until he’s gone entirely and then she casts her eyes down on Mo Ran who fights the urge to shrink back and instead stand his ground.
“Governor Xue asked me to help stay and prepare their meal. They were having a celebration.” Mo Ran says. He purposefully omits the part where he was invited to share that meal.
“He doesn’t employ you,” she says and gestures to a chair. Mo Ran feels uneasy sitting down facing the window with his back to her and the room at large. He can hear her moving behind him, opening and closing a cabinet as she says, “I employ you. I took you in when you were little. I raised you like I would my own child. And what gratitude have you shown me? Have you ever thanked me for all I’ve done for you?”
Mo Ran remains silent waiting for the trap. Below he can see Xue Meng’s form vanishing into the crowd in the direction of the Victor’s Village. He wishes he could be walking back with him. For a brief moment he felt the joy a large, boisterous family could bring and now that he’s had a taste he realizes he’s been starving.
A comb catches in his hair, ripping immediately though a knot without care. “Well?” Madam Mo asks.
“I haven’t,” Mo Ran says mechanically. “Thank you.”
She makes an approving sound and keeps combing his hair.
“Tomorrow’s the reaping,” she continues as though musing to herself. “A’Nian is worried. His name is on many lots.”
Mo Ran keeps staring at the spot Xue Meng vanished behind a building. The district’s only tailor, not that he’s ever been in for clothes for himself. He once picked up an outfit for Madam Mo there, when an entourage from the Capitol brought a slew of victors to meet with Chu Wanning a few years back. She was excited about it, talking about how this was an excellent business opportunity and how she could finally bring wealth to the district, or really, her pockets. That’s when Mo Ran learned that winning is never the end of it: victors are whored out. They’re touted through the Capitol when away from their district as both fresh and withered flowers to be plucked by those wealthy enough. Some don’t even get to end their tours at the Capitol, as when their victory tour ends a whole new tour begins through the districts as the wealthier occupants set their eyes on creating their own beautiful bouquet of blood soaked flowers. Victors get to be darlings for a few years and then the Capitol expectations change, adoration shifts off them, and their purpose changes.
Much to Madam Mo’s dismay, the two woman and lone young man the Capitol brought for her to draw in a crowd was not enough to bring the victors to Sisheng Peak on this unspoken tour of past victors. There was not enough wealth to afford what the Capitol expected of such stops and they would garner more keeping them in the Capitol. She bemoaned loudly at how poor the district is and cannot understand or afford the allure of properly ripe bodies, but Mo Ran thinks that in truth Xue Zhengyong shut the situation down and made the prospect of bringing the victor’s trade here undesirable for offenders.
Mo Ran doesn’t think the Capitol harvests victors from Sisheng Peak like other districts. Sisheng Peak, or District 11 as it’s officially labeled, truly is undesirable. Xue Zhengyong entered the games already married in secret and a soon to be father of a teen pregnancy with a truant from another district whom he met on his privileged travels before his Games during his brother’s victory tour just before he died. His son was born during his own victor’s tour when he announced his child to the Panam and said he would be taking Wang Chuqing back to District 11 with him regardless of what anyone said. His status as a father and married man made it harder for the Capitol to sell and whispers of buying his time after his victory tour quickly quelled, according to what Mo Ran has heard from Madam Mo’s bitching. Xue Zhengyong took advantage of that to avoid such a fate and instead step into a governing role of the district.
And Chu Wanning… Mo Ran doesn’t know about Chu Wanning except that he rarely leaves the Victor’s Village. Perhaps he keeps himself locked away there to keep away from the Capitol’s eye. Mo Ran wouldn’t blame him. Or perhaps he leaves by cover of night in a hovercraft and Mo Ran has merely never seen. There is no way of telling and Mo Ran knows it would be disrespectful to ask or even contemplate.
“You remember what you promised when I took you into my home and gave you a roof to live under?” Madam Mo asks. Again her voice is putridly sweet, a mimicry of a loving parent. It’s vile after having just heard what a loving family sounds like. “That if A’Nian’s name is drawn–”
“I volunteer.” Mo Ran replies flatly. “I remember.”
“Good,” she said. “Good. I’m glad you can remember something. Now, I have this for you.”
Mo Ran stiffens himself preparing for an impending strike after vanishing today, but instead she sets something in his lap.
Clothes.
Soft, clean, brand new clothes. Just a t-shirt and jeans, but Mo Ran has never had brand new clothes. They have tags on them marking them as from District 8. Mo Ran doesn’t dare reach out his hands to touch them even though he wants to press them into his face and inhale deeply.
“The new peacekeepers arriving for the reaping meant a new shipment of Capitol goods,” she explains unfolding the shirt and holding it up to Mo Ran. It looks too small for him. “I thought I would get something for you and A’Nian. Appreciate them because they cost your mother a lot of money. More than I could afford really, to buy you something so nice. But I wanted to make sure you’re well taken care of, as I always have. It might be a little small, but A’Nain will grow into it soon, and what’s wrong with something a little tight. You’re old enough to start working the front of house too, so people might as well get used to seeing you as you are.”
A sinking pit of disgust fills Mo Ran at her words. At her bribe. And a threat of if he doesn’t enter the Games.
“Go on,” she says forcing the shirt into Mo Ran’s hand. “Try it on. Make sure you’ll look sharp tomorrow.”
Mo Ran pulls off his own thin but comfortable shirt to pull on this stiff new one. It’s tight and itchy and feels unfamiliar, its fibers stiff and never worn before. He then pulls off his pants too and pulls on the jeans which are thankfully not as tight. He stands stiffly in place as she adjusts the hem of his shirt and brushes wrinkles off his chest, all while continuing to convince him that she treats him well.
This is how it is every reaping. There’s a narrow, two day period in which she always tries to convince Mo Ran that she thinks of him as her son and would do anything for him. It always leaves Mo Ran feeling violated, like the sacredness of family is merely a weapon to her.
Finally she decides Mo Ran looks good enough to represent her in the new clothes that as soon as the reaping has passed will go straight to Mo Nian and tells him to take them off. He changes back into his clothes, neatly folding and setting the new ones aside, and waits for his punishment to be issued.
To his surprise, there is no punishment. Instead, he’s told to take the evening off and to rest in his room. A phrasing that tells him he will be locked in his room as soon as the door is shut but that is favorable to a beating. She will ensure that he stays so he’ll be at the reaping to serve as a shield for her son.
He sits alone on the broken and used mattress he calls his own and unfolds the napkin Shi Mei pressed into his hand to stare at the osmanthus cake he himself made. It almost brings tears to his eyes that such treats are rare for everyone, even people like the Xues. And yet Shi Mei, a servant in his own right, so willingly gave his own up to Mo Ran when he saw the misunderstanding that bloomed at the table. He doesn’t want to eat it and yet he doesn’t want to let it go to waste, so he nibbles at it bit by bit, crumb by crumb thinking of how good and kind Shi Mei is and how he didn’t notice it before. He truly knows in his heart that if Mo Nian’s name is called, he will not volunteer. But if Shi Mei’s is, it won’t even take him a heartbeat before he’s running to the stage demanding they let Shi Mei step down.
When the cake is gone and every crumb picked up and set on his tongue, Mo Ran folds the napkin up tightly and tucks it into his pocket. No matter what happens tomorrow he plans on keeping it close. Locked away alone in the dark it makes him feel less alone and he smiles to himself knowing whatever comes, it’ll be okay.
It’s after the last guest leaves that Mo Ran hears the lock grind and the door creak open.
“Ran’er?” a soft voice calls, asking if he’s still awake. Mo Ran hops out of bed and tiptoes to the door where one of the women pokes her nose in.
“Hi!” he whispers to her and invites her in. She slips inside and shuts the door.
“Are you okay?” she asks feeling through the dark for his arms and running her hands up them to his shoulders to feel if he’d been lashed. “What happened? Where were you? They were so mad!”
“I’m fine. I’m fine, I promise,” Mo Ran assures. He pulls her down to the tilted mattress and whispers through the dark about his day and about Shi Mei, although he doesn’t name the nice boy who chased him to apologize for something he didn’t even do. He also tells her about Xue Meng sharing his pastry with him. And Chu Wanning. And how kind the Xues are. And how pretty Chu Wanning is. He doesn’t even realize he’s waxed away for five minutes about Chu Wanning’s beauty before it dawns on him and his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.
She just laughs at how silly he is with all his boyish crushes, ruffles his hair in the dark and leaves the room again now she knows he’s okay.
“Jie?” Mo Ran asks as she’s shutting the door.
“Hm?”
“Could you leave it unlocked? And lock it tomorrow morning so they won’t know?”
“I can tell the wake up shift to lock your door as long as you’re back before then.”
“Mn. I can be.”
The door shuts but the lock doesn’t turn. Mo Ran sits alone in the dark for a long time until he hears no more sounds of life. Only then does he slip out of his room and into the kitchens where he begins work on a broth for noodles.
Through the night he makes the delightfully rich, savory broth perfectly balanced for people who cannot withstand spice. As the earliest hours of daylight begin to prove morning of the reaping is coming, Mo Ran finishes the dish and pours it into a vat for delivery and slips out of the Drunken Jade.
He runs at a sprint through the early morning trying to dodge the sight of the newly arrived peacekeepers, the Capitol peacekeepers, the one who do not show any their faces from behind their helmets and wear gear from head to toe, even their eyes hidden from sight at all times so you only pay attention to their weapons. He avoids the center of town where the platform for the reaping is already being set up. If he’s caught up by one of the local peacekeepers no harm will come, but if he’s caught sprinting at daybreak by one of the peacekeepers from the Capitol he’s certain there can be no good that comes of it. Although, he reasons, perhaps if he’s in the stockades he wouldn’t be able to be reaped. Or perhaps they would merely rig it so his name comes out of the glass sphere. In the past, children who are criminals have done well for the spectacle of the Games.
He manages to make it to the Victor’s Village unnoticed. In itself, it’s a miniature town of traditionally built houses unlike the run down yet modern, utilitarian make up of the rest of town. These buildings are all perfectly kept, several of them, empty and abandoned for years as no new victors have left the arena since Chu Wanning’s win fourteen years ago, have fresh coats of paint for the reaping. It means Mo Ran needs to be more careful slipping through this area as there may be film crews here.
He slows to a walk with intention. If he gets caught, he’s just making an early morning delivery. That’s all. If he’s running, he’s a thief.
He makes it to the house next to the pond in the furthest corner of the Victor’s Village away from the bustle of town. His boots make the wooden walkway groan under foot causing hesitation for fear it might crack and he falls into the dark waters speckled with closed flowers and wide brimmed lotus leaves.
He doesn’t knock on the door. He instead sets his box containing broth, bundle of hand pulled noodles and box of meat in front of the door so Chu Wanning need only heat it and combine. On top he pins a note he scribbled. Truly scribbled. There aren't a lot of reasons Mo Ran has to feel ashamed of himself but the fact he can barely piece together a legible note without the help of one of the girls is one that certainly proves that little voice in the back of his mind reminding him how dumb he is right. He hopes it’ll be understandable as an apology for ruining his birthday meal. He was too embarrassed to wake someone up to ask for help writing it.
Mo Ran slips away into the darkness as easily as he came. He pauses in front of the Xue’s house to stare up at the grandeur of it and wonders what it would be like to be inside right now. He could have had that so easily. All he had to do was walk out the door with Xue Meng. He could have maybe slept on the floor of his or Shi Mei’s room and woken to a proper breakfast rather than the runted pancake he knows he’ll get in the morning that will leave his stomach growling, a true chorus to sing the anthem of the Hunger Games.
When truck headlights pass over the streets Mo Ran keeps moving, returning to the brothel and to his room where he hears one of the first people to wake up lock his door for him. Mo Ran curls up on his bed and closes his eyes hoping to get a few hours of sleep at the very least.
When he wakes he’s alone, but the neat stack of folded clothes rest on the floor next to the door. Mo Ran sleepily stares at it debating whether it would be worth the fight to wear his own clothes today. Yes, people dress up nicely for the reaping, but at the same time he wants to wear what’s his and not a promise to Madam Mo that he will sacrifice himself for her son if the matter arises. He only makes himself get up and dress when he hears the clatter downstairs pick up as everyone prepares for the reaping. He pulls on the clothes and a jacket of his own to feel something that isn’t a threat against his skin despite the heat of summer. He just manages to get the napkin from Shi Mei tucked into his pocket before Mo Nian slams open his door, sticks his head in to call him a mutt and confirm he’s still there and slams the door shut again.
Mo Ran rubs his face in his hands reminding himself that this is the final reaping where this particular flavor of misery will persist before he leaves the room to join everyone else at the town square.