It’s just another day when Yixing’s life comes crashing down around him. Jongdae is gaudier than ever, bright green robes catching the light as he moves, flaps around Yixing like an eager butterfly. He sent the maid out of the room with the authority only the highest earner of this establishment could; Jongdae knows his power, and he knows how to use it.

Besides, he loves being the one to tie Yixing into his obi; to slide the combs into his hair and then press a cheeky kiss against his lips because Lay is beautiful, but he doesn’t smile like Yixing.

Mama-san would have a fit if she saw them together like this, but what mama-san doesn’t know can’t hurt her, and Jongdae has no intention of letting her keep him away from Yixing. He’s not stupid; he knows that she would take this as insubordination – that she’d see their relationship as a nuisance and would find all the ways she could to keep them apart.

For mama-san was once zinnia herself – she knows the danger of letting your heart fly free, but Jongdae’s not unduly concerned. He has plans, plans that even mama-san can’t interfere with and one day, he’ll get them out of here. One day, maybe, they’ll be free of the floating world and Yixing won’t be so ashamed of his homeland, of his pretty face.

Jongdae’s dreams centre around his freedom, yes; but it’s not worth it if he does not have Yixing beside him.

***

“Jongdae!” Mama-san calls, her accent clipped and refined after so many years of trying to appear above her station. “Jongdae!” Her voice raises a few decibels, the sharp sound of it causing Yixing to wince.

“You should go to her,” he says softly, grasping the hand Jongdae is using to push the last pin into his hair with both of his. Jongdae blinks at him.

“Well I know I should, but that doesn’t mean I want to.” When Yixing chuckles, bringing the hand up to his lips to kiss his knuckles, he grins triumphantly. “And anyway, if she really wants me, she can come get me herself – “

He’s interrupted by a loud rap on the door, the sound of the handle being twisted even before he says they can come in; Yixing drops his hand like it’s a hot coal. “Yes?” Chen’s always been good at that indifferent, disinterested tone of voice. Yixing keeps his mouth shut; mama-san has always hated his accent.

“Why didn’t you come when I called?” She demands, narrowed eyes taking in both of their ensembles; her lip curls when she sees one of Jongdae’s combs in Yixing’s hair, but she says nothing. Let them play at friendship if they want – it’ll all come to naught once one of them gets the more attractive customer.

Chen raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow, as if to convey his disapproval of mama-san’s attitude; Yixing’s teeth sink into his lower lip. “I was just helping Lay here. He was having terrible problems with his obi, couldn’t even tie it on straight – “

Mama-san snorts. “You must think I was born yesterday. I don’t care what you do, as long as the customers don’t complain.” Jongdae opens his mouth, as if to disagree – but a warning look from Yixing checks that impulse. It won’t do to have a screaming match with mama-san, not so close to the start of the bidding. “I was calling you because I’ve had word of a rich client, come along for tonight’s bidding.” Her eyes shine at the thought of money; Jongdae bitterly reflects that his own probably do too, if only because it represents the freedom he craves. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll do your best to attract him tonight.”

She doesn’t bother to address her request to Yixing; everyone knows that the dark horse from Xing could never appeal to someone of quality. Internally, he shrugs – it’s not as if it makes any difference to him, and if Jongdae finds a rich donor – well, then he will be happy for him. It’s just the way of things.

Still, he winces a little when mama-san swats him away like a buzzing fly, her sharp nails digging into the thin flesh of Chen’s wrist. “You win him over, and you keep him.” She hisses the last few words, delighting in the idea of a regular source of income. “Understood?”

Jongdae nods, because what else can he do?

***

The bidding is fast and furious today, the zinnia of their establishment a cheap and cheerful alternative to the unattainable tayuu of the classier establishments. Yixing gets a man with a nervous smile and a twitching eyelid; he counts himself lucky that one of his more usual, violent customers didn’t win the bid tonight.

He’s being let out of his cage, hand resting on the bars, when he takes a casual look back at where Chen is sitting, legs crossed leisurely. There’s a man in expensive silk next to mama-san, a white slip of paper handed over with a whisper in her ear, and he knows that Chen has caught the big fish.

It’s a good thing, he reminds himself, as he sends a tremulous smile over to his lover, taking the hand of his new customer immediately.

He misses the longing look in Jongdae’s eyes, but it would hardly have mattered anyway; it’s not as if they could break away from their customers to spend time together after all.

Zinnia don’t pay for other zinnia; the idea is laughable.

***

Yixing escapes from this client with nothing but a few slaps to the face, and that was his own fault; when the customer remarked upon his accent, he stupidly replied that he was from Xing. And of course, this man had lost someone in the war – or such-and-such’s friend had; he has to confess, he wasn’t really listening – he’d heard it all before.

And of course, his perfectly serene face wasn’t enough to make up for that; it was enough to get the man hard enough to him, to enjoy touching something so beautiful – but not enough to leave unscathed.

Yixing hardly minded; he’s had much worse over the years, and what’s a few slaps compared to being thrown into a wall? At least a slap doesn’t leave a scar. Mama-san hates scars; they lower your marketability, something Yixing needs just to get by.

So he pats himself on the back for a job well done – the man left satisfied, didn’t he? – and lets himself be led out for yet another bidding war. He can see that this crowd is a little wilder, a little less rich – many of them are merchants who come only so often, when their wives allow – and they have their preferences.

He sighs, schooling his face to keep it blank; the only consolation is that Jongdae is not yet back in his cage. Perhaps he has wooed his customer already – it would not surprise Yixing. Chen is altogether entirely charming.

Pity that he can’t hold a candle to Jongdae.

***

He learns that he is right – that Chen somehow enticed this rich stranger to stay the entire night – when Jongdae crawls into bed with him at four in the morning, shedding several hairpins as he goes. Yixing blinks when one that he is certain is new – because the gold glints in the light and he is used to the faded shimmer of costume jewellery – falls out; the man is rich.

“I missed you,” Jongdae murmurs immediately, his mere presence warming Yixing more than the thin blanket ever could. “This new customer kept me busy all night.” He yawns, the gesture nothing like the coquettish motion he makes for customers; this is more like the yawn of a baby lion. “He wanted the same thing over and over, so boring.”

Yixing doesn’t mention that he and Jongdae do the same thing over and over; their relationship may be repetitive, but there’s comfort in routine if you love the person it concerns. “Oh?” He says sleepily, snuggling that bit closer to Jongdae, who rests his cheek on top of Yixing’s head, eyelids fluttering closed.

“Yeah. Doubt I’ll see him again though.” The rich ones rarely slum it for long, it’s true. “But he was good money.”

And Yixing is too tired to be enthusiastic; Jongdae doesn’t care, anyway. He’d rather fall asleep with the feel of Yixing in his arms, because he may trade his body for money but that doesn’t mean he’ll cling to just anybody.

They always sleep better together.