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thought of the evening: Xue Yang runs a shockingly lucrative tropical plant business out of his rented condo (plz don't tell his landlord how high he keeps the humidity) and Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan are his neighbors who are convinced he's running an illegal grow op.
originally, it's just orchids (because Xue Yang is orchid people), but because of the aroid boom, he's diversified into all kinds of tropicals. he even has a single room of shame for all the plants that sell well these days but deeply piss him off like hoyas and calatheas.
if the hoya-and-calathea room is, in fact, the master bathroom, none of his customers need to know. it's easy to jack up the humidity by taking showers in there. he's gotten some weird comments from overnight guests, which is how you get asked to leave before breakfast tbqh.
while Xue Yang rents his condo, Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen obviously own theirs. they bought before Xue Yang moved in. the previous tenants were an older couple who gave them tupperware full of cookies every Christmas and invited them to their church.
they were so politely, quietly homophobic in such a mild, inoffensive way that Xiao Xingchen almost couldn't bring himself to hate them. (Song Lan could. Song Lan hated them very, very much. Mrs. Johnson's gingerbread isn't nearly good enough for him to put up with her shit.)
anyway, so they're shitty but basically inoffensive neighbors. when they move out, the place goes up for sale, and an investor buys it. Xxc and SL assume that the owner will rent to another couple or a young family. nope! instead, they get... Xue Yang.
the day Xue Yang moves in, they watch a crew of movers unload maybe a one bedroom apartment's worth of furniture. maybe. like, generously, these possessions could fill a small one-bedroom. but they know perfectly well that the condo next door is a 3BD2BA, just like theirs.
about an hour after the movers leave, a rental truck pulls up driven by an extremely tiny, possibly teenaged girl. as soon as she drives up, their new neighbor starts swearing at her so creatively and vociferously that the little dog across the street starts barking in protest.
this tiny man in painted-on skinny jeans is screaming at the equally-if-not-tinier teen girl, who is just repeating, "I drove the fucking speed limit," increasingly loudly, as the man opens the back of the truck and starts pawing through whatever's in there.
whatever's in there is in cardboard boxes and plastic bins and, at least once, entirely covered in bubble wrap. every time the girl tries to help him carry something in, he yells at her about how she's doing it until she gives up and sits on his stoop and vapes at him about it.
eventually, when the man is so sweaty that his black tank is plastered to his back, he comes out with two beers and hands one to the girl. she says, "fuck you," and he additionally hands over a wad of bills. she offers him the vape; he takes it and coughs. "fuck, what is that?"
the teen girl, who is almost certainly not old enough to be drinking, says, "that's tobacco, Peppermint Patty." the man says, "fuck you," and hands the vape back to her. at this point, he looks over and stares directly into Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan's living room window,
from which they have been watching the whole performance for the last few hours because, hey, what else are they going to do on a Saturday afternoon? the man waves at them. Xiao Xingchen has the decency to blush. Song Lan waves back.
and then: nothing. all goes quiet next door for a few weeks. sure, their new neighbor smokes an ungodly amount in his tiny backyard and, sure, most of that smoke tends to smell sickly sweet like the inside of a cheap ice cream parlor.
and maybe it tends to cling to the inside of Xiao Xingchen's nose and leave him with the sense that he's been huffing candied ashes if he dares to spend more than half a mug of tea's time on the back patio while the neighbor man is smoking. but that's— fine. that's fine.
it's not like Xiao Xingchen enjoys the patio. it's not as though they bought this place in part because of the
surprisingly sizable backyard. this! is fine!!
or at least it's fine until the parade of visitors next door begins.
surprisingly sizable backyard. this! is fine!!
or at least it's fine until the parade of visitors next door begins.
at first, it's just a couple people every day. then, it's four or five. eventually, it's also drivers from at least one (if not two or three) different shipping companies. sometimes, the teen girl comes by and the two of them load up an entire van full of packages.
when the neighbor man's electricity bill gets misdelivered to Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan's condo, Song Lan might accidentally open it. and he might see, to his shocked horror, exactly how many hundreds of dollars their neighbor is spending on electricity.
and he might carefully reseal the envelope and slip it into his neighbor's mailbox (next to at least two small packages, he notes). he might erroneously conclude that his neighbor is almost certainly growing something recreational and only somewhat legal in the condo next door.
which is convenient because it means that he can tell the owner of the property next door and get their new neighbor evicted and Xiao Xingchen can go back to enjoying the back patio and everything will be hunky dory on Rosemont Crescent once again.
sadly (and somewhat predictably), Xiao Xingchen is not on board for getting their neighbor evicted. he does, however, agree that something must be done, which of course means that he personally will go over and have a conversation with their neighbor about the backyard smoking.
no matter what Song Lan says, Xiao Xingchen will not budge on going in alone. Song Lan presses his lips into a flat line. he knows where this will end up. "promise me you won't buy pot from our neighbor while trying to persuade him to stop ruining the patio for you."
Xiao Xingchen smiles beatifically at him and says, "I don't make promises I can't keep," and walks out of the house before Song Lan can stop him or alternatively shout at him about getting his priorities straight. Xiao Xingchen knocks on the neighbor's door and disappears inside.
when Xiao Xingchen knocks, the neighbor opens the door and says, "Oh, hello," in such a frankly and joyously predatory way that Xiao Xingchen can't actually bring himself to be particularly concerned. He smiles and introduces himself and says he lives next door.
their neighbor says, "I know," and invites Xiao Xingchen inside. the neighbor does not give his name. the second Xiao Xingchen steps inside the condo, he's struck by how aggressively warm and humid it is. like walking into a particularly belligerent jungle. and in that moment
Xiao Xingchen realizes that there is something much, much weirder going on than an illegal grow-op. (he also realizes, somewhat regretfully, that he is almost certainly not getting a good weed hookup out of this conversation.)
the neighbor says, "so are you finally going to ask me to stop smoking when you're outside?" Xiao Xingchen stares at him. the neighbor smiles. "you make a face when you smell. the face you're making right now." the neighbor laughs. Xiao Xingchen laughs too. he can't help himself.
"would you mind not smoking while I'm on the patio?" he asks.
"sure," the neighbor says, "but could you ask your boyfriend to stop stealing my mail?"
Xiao Xingchen stares at him. "he did /what/."
the neighbor cocks his head. "my electric bill?" as if Xiao Xingchen should know.
"sure," the neighbor says, "but could you ask your boyfriend to stop stealing my mail?"
Xiao Xingchen stares at him. "he did /what/."
the neighbor cocks his head. "my electric bill?" as if Xiao Xingchen should know.
"your electric bill."
"yeah, I would've taken the packages too, but—" the neighbor shrugs expressively.
"I'll talk to him about it," Xiao Xingchen says. "what did you say your name was?"
the neighbor smiles. "Xue Yang," he says. "here, let me give you my number. just in case."
"yeah, I would've taken the packages too, but—" the neighbor shrugs expressively.
"I'll talk to him about it," Xiao Xingchen says. "what did you say your name was?"
the neighbor smiles. "Xue Yang," he says. "here, let me give you my number. just in case."
so Xiao Xingchen returns to the condo in possession of a phone number he doesn't need and exactly nothing worth smoking. he also remains entirely unclear on what Xue Yang is actually doing next door. he's fairly certain that conventional growing doesn't involve that much humidity
when he recounts this all to Song Lan (with a pointed We Will Talk About This Later emphasis on the part about stealing Xue Yang's mail), Song Lan looks deeply, profoundly unimpressed. "he's definitely growing pot."
"unless he's doing fogponics with the whole house, I doubt it."
"unless he's doing fogponics with the whole house, I doubt it."
Song Lan gives him a dark look. Xiao Xingchen sighs. "Okay, it's not completely out of the question." then, he picks a small fight about stealing the neighbor's mail and successfully distracts Song Lan for the rest of the evening with first the argument and then the makeup sex.
// and sadly this is the point in the evening where my left wrist has decided it is Absolutely Done with typing for the day, so I will maybe see you tomorrow?? for further ridiculous adventures of these idiots? 
