Měi Nán sat in the departure lounge of Shenzhen Bao'an International Airport, his phone clutched in his hands, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard but not typing anything.
He'd been staring at the same blank message for the past ten minutes, trying to figure out what to say to Tòumíng. I'm about to board seemed too clinical. Wish you were here seemed too clingy. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone seemed like a waste of breath because Tòumíng would absolutely do something stupid regardless of what anyone said.
He sighed and pocketed the phone. Better to just wait until he landed. Less stress that way.
The airport was busy—flights arriving and departing, families reuniting, business travelers rushing past with their rolling suitcases and their Important Looking expressions. Měi Nán watched them all with the detached curiosity of someone who'd been through this dozens of times. He was dressed simply, comfortably, for the flight—a loose sweater, fitted jeans, sneakers that had cost more than most people's rent. His hair was styled, his makeup minimal but present. He looked like he was trying not to look like he was trying, which was its own kind of effort.
His brother was supposed to pick him up. Shā Nán. The middle child. The one who'd always been kind of quiet, kind of awkward, kind of just there in the background of Měi Nán's memories. It had been four years since they'd last seen each other. Four years since Měi Nán had come out to his parents and the whole family had exploded in a mess of tears and accusations and slammed doors.
Měi Nán had been the one to leave. He'd packed a bag, taken the first train out of Taipei, and ended up in Shenzhen with nothing but his savings and a burning need to prove he could make it on his own. He'd done it, too. Built a career, built a life, built a reputation as one of the most sought-after escorts in the city. He'd stopped talking to his family entirely after the first year—too much pain, too many old wounds.
But his brother had reached out last month. A simple message, just a few words: Mom and Dad want to see you. I want to see you. Please come home.
And Měi Nán, against all his better judgment, had agreed.
He wondered if his brother had changed. Shā Nán had always been the quiet one, the one who kept his head down and didn't make waves. The one who'd never really taken sides when the family fell apart. Měi Nán had always assumed that was because he was too cowardly to pick a side, but now he wondered if maybe it was because he'd been trying to keep the peace.
And his sister? Sū Nán. The youngest. She'd been fifteen when Měi Nán left, still in school, still figuring out who she was. He'd thought about her more than he'd ever admit—wondered if she'd grown up okay, if she'd turned into the kind of person who could handle the world on her own terms.
Mid-thought, a pair of hands covered his eyes.
Warm hands, soft hands, with fingers that smelled faintly of vanilla lotion. A voice—high, playful, teasing—whispered in his ear: "Guess whooo~?"
Měi Nán froze. He didn't recognize the voice. It was too high, too light, too girly to be anyone he knew. His brother's voice was deeper, more reserved. His sister's voice was similar but still different. This was a stranger. A complete stranger who had just put their hands on his face in a busy airport.
His survival instincts kicked in. He grabbed the stranger's wrists, twisted, and spun around with enough force to make the person stumble backward.
"You're not my—"
He stopped. His jaw dropped. His brain short-circuited.
Standing in front of him was... a femboy. A pale-skinned twink wearing a cropped hoodie that showed off a sliver of midriff and very tight leggings that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. His hair was fluffy and pink, dyed pink, not natural, and his makeup was flawless, with cat-eye liner and glossy pink lips and just a hint of blush on his cheeks. He looked like he'd stepped out of a K-pop music video, or maybe a very specific corner of the internet that Měi Nán had definitely never visited.
Měi Nán blinked. "Do I... do I know you?"
The femboy's expression shifted from playful to hurt. His lower lip jutted out in a pout that was absolutely theatrical, absolutely practiced, and absolutely adorable. "Aww, you don't recognize your sweet older oniichannn~?"
Měi Nán's brain stuttered. His eyes widened. His mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air.
"There's no way," he said slowly, each word measured and careful, "that you're Shā Nán."
The femboy, Shā Nán, apparently, bounced on his heels, his grin widening. He reached up and pulled back his fluffy pink hair, revealing his forehead, his temples, his full face. Then he sucked in his cheeks—making his face look gaunt and angular—squinted his eyes into slits, and deepened his voice to a dead, monotone drawl.
"Ugh... what a drag."
It was the exact same voice that Shā Nán had used every single day for eighteen years. The exact same expression. The exact same "I can't be bothered with this" energy that had defined Měi Nán's brother since childhood.
Měi Nán launched himself from his seat.
"NO FUCKING WAY!"
Shā Nán dropped the impression and laughed—a bright, genuine sound that was completely at odds with the dead-eyed teenager he'd just channeled. "Yes fucking way, big bro."
"This is—you're—WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?!" Měi Nán grabbed his brother's shoulders, shaking him slightly, as if expecting the pink hair and makeup to somehow fall off like a costume. "You were—you were all—you wore hoodies! And baggy pants! And you never—you never—"
"I went through a whole thing," Shā Nán said, still grinning. "It's a long story. But the short version is, after you left, I started figuring some stuff out. Got into makeup. Got into fashion. Got into... well, I got into being myself, I guess."
"But you're—" Měi Nán gestured vaguely at his brother's entire existence. "You're a femboy?!"
"Yep! A proud, pink-haired, crop-top-wearing, definitely-not-ashamed-of-it femboy!"
Měi Nán didn't know whether to laugh or cry or hug his brother or strangle him. He settled on a combination—a choked laugh, a half-sob, and a hug that was probably too tight but he didn't care. Four years. Four years of silence and separation, and now his brother was standing in front of him looking like he'd walked off the set of a fever dream.
"I missed you," Měi Nán said into his brother's shoulder.
"Missed you too, big bro."
They pulled apart, both of them wiping their eyes, both of them trying to pretend they weren't crying.
"Domestic flight to Taiwan departing in five minutes. All passengers must now board at Gate 3E."
Měi Nán's head snapped toward the intercom. His eyes went wide. "Wait—Gate 3E?"
"That's not this gate," Shā Nán said slowly, his own face going pale. "We're in Gate 1A. That's—that's completely on the other side of the airport."
"WE NEED TO GO!"
They ran. Bags forgotten, dignity abandoned, two grown men sprinting through Shenzhen Bao'an International Airport like they were being chased by a pack of wolves. Měi Nán's sneakers squeaked against the polished floor. Shā Nán's heels—because of course he was wearing heels, because why would anything in his life be simple—clicked frantically against the tile.
"THIS IS YOUR FAULT!" Měi Nán yelled as they dodged a family of five.
"MY FAULT?! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO WAS IN THE WRONG GATE!"
"I WAS WAITING FOR YOU!"
"YOU COULD HAVE CHECKED THE BOARD!"
"I DIDN'T THINK I NEEDED TO!"
They reached the gate as the final boarding call was announced, their chests heaving, their faces red, their entire bodies covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The gate attendant looked at them with the kind of expression that said "I've seen this exact scenario play out approximately three hundred times this week."
"Boarding passes?" she asked.
Měi Nán fumbled in his pocket, pulling out his crumpled pass. Shā Nán did the same.
"First class," the attendant said, scanning their passes and gesturing toward the jet bridge. "Enjoy your flight."
They made their way down the jet bridge, still breathing hard, still processing everything that had just happened. They settled into their seats—spacious, comfortable, with enough legroom that Měi Nán could actually stretch out without his knees hitting the seat in front—and collapsed into the plush leather.
Měi Nán whistled softly, looking around at the first-class cabin. "I forgot Mom and Dad were rich as hell."
"Rich as hell," Shā Nán agreed, already reaching for the complimentary champagne that had appeared on the armrest. "They don't really talk about it much. You know how they are—old money, never flaunt it, pretend they're just regular people."
"They're not regular people. They're loaded."
"Insanely loaded. This is nothing. You should see the house now. They renovated the entire east wing."
"Of course they did."
The plane began taxiing, the engines humming, the seatbelt sign flickering on. Měi Nán buckled in, then turned to his brother with the question he'd been holding in since the moment he'd seen the pink hair.
"How's Sū Nán doing? She's like... nineteen now, right?"
Shā Nán's grin widened. "Oh, she's doing great. But you'll be shocked when you see her."
"Shocked how? Is she like... super girly now? Did she go full princess mode? She used to be so tomboyish when she was younger."
Shā Nán snorted. "Nooo, no. She's... actually, she's a huge tomboy now. Like, bigger than she was as a kid. She came out a couple years ago. Likes girls. Also, she's goth."
Měi Nán blinked. "Goth?"
"Full goth. Black lipstick, fishnets, platforms boots, the whole aesthetic. And her voice is deeper than mine now. Like, significantly deeper. She could probably do voiceover work for action movie trailers."
"What do you mean she 'likes girls'?"
"She's a lesbian, Mei. Plain and simple. Has a girlfriend and everything. They've been together for like a year and a half. Her girlfriend is this super sweet artsy girl who paints watercolors of cats. It's adorable. You're going to love her."
Měi Nán stared at his brother, his brain struggling to process this information. His little sister, the one who'd been fifteen when he'd left, the one who'd cried when he'd walked out the door—was a goth lesbian with a girlfriend. His brother was a femboy who looked like he'd stepped out of a fever dream. And his parents had apparently gone through some kind of transformation while he was gone.
"Everyone got suddenly gay after I left?" Měi Nán asked, his voice flat, his expression somewhere between shock and amusement.
Shā Nán shrugged, taking a sip of his champagne.
"Pretty much, yeah. It was like dominos. You left, and then a couple months later I started experimenting, and then a year after that Sū Nán came out. Mom and Dad were so shaken by the whole thing with you that they just kind of... gave up on fighting it. They figured if they lost one kid to their old-fashioned views, they weren't going to lose the other two as well."
"So they're accepting now?"
"Accepting is a strong word. They're trying. They're really, really trying. But they're also super cringe about it."
"Cringe how?"
Shā Nán leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Okay, so, I told you they're trying to be inclusive, right? They read articles. They watch YouTube videos. They try so hard to get it right. But it always, ALWAYS, loops back around to being adorably homophobic without them realizing it."
He mimicked his parents' voices, pitching them higher and adopting a formal, slightly confused tone. "'Oh, you're gay? You should marry our son! He's very handsome and successful and he's available!' And they say it with straight faces, completely genuinely, like they're doing you a favor by offering you a chance at family connection."
Měi Nán burst out laughing. "They actually say that?!"
"All the time! The last time I brought a boyfriend over for dinner, my mom spent the whole meal telling him how 'domesticated' I was and how I'd make a 'very good wife' to someone someday. And the guy was like 'Ma'am, I'm a top. I don't need a wife.' And my mom just nodded and said 'That's okay, he can be flexible. We raised him to be adaptable.'"
"I'm going to die," Měi Nán wheezed, tears streaming down his face. "I'm literally going to die of embarrassment."
"It gets worse. My dad asked Sū Nán's girlfriend if she'd ever considered 'switching teams' because he had a 'very handsome nephew' who was looking for a wife. And her girlfriend was like 'Sir, I'm a lesbian. That's the whole point.' And my dad was like 'Yes, yes, I understand, but have you considered maybe trying it out just once??'"
"FOR SCIENCE?!"
"He's a businessman. He thinks everything is a market test."
Měi Nán was crying laughing, his whole body shaking, his hands gripping the armrests for support. "Oh my god. Oh my GOD. They're the worst allies ever."
"They're trying their best! That's what makes it so funny! They read all these articles about how to be supportive, but they don't really understand the concepts, so they just end up saying the most unhinged things with complete sincerity."
"So you've got a femboy brother, a goth lesbian sister, and parents who are aggressively trying to be woke while accidentally being homophobic."
"Yep. That's the family you're coming home to."
Měi Nán leaned back in his seat, still chuckling, his eyes still wet. Four years. Four years of silence, of separation, of convincing himself that his family had written him off. And now he was flying back to find that they'd completely transformed in his absence.
"I can't believe I was gone for four years," he said quietly. "I missed so much."
"You missed everything," Shā Nán agreed. "But you're here now. That's what matters."
The plane lifted off, climbing through the clouds, heading toward Taiwan. Měi Nán looked out the window at the shrinking city below, at the life he'd built for himself in Shenzhen, at the people he was leaving behind for a few days—Tòumíng, and the villa, and all the chaos that came with it.
He wondered if Tòumíng would manage to survive without him. Probably not. But then again, Tòumíng had a habit of surviving things he really shouldn't.
"One more thing," Shā Nán said, pulling him from his thoughts. "When you get home, please don't make fun of Mom's new 'ally pins.' She bought a bunch of them from Etsy and she's very proud of them."
Měi Nán groaned. "What do they say?"
"'Love is love' in Comic Sans. With a rainbow that has too many colors."
"Of course it does."