#I’m to sensible but for godsake why do we need to tell you people

[yoohyeon]

I think we need to bring back the g*friend receipts I see so many people still stanning v*viz, I’m nauseous

[caffeineivore]

Many thanks...

To @apsaraqueen and @antivanonmytongue for helping me plot out this segment of fic. Therefore, dedicated to them because they are awesome ladies :P

Title: Yuan Fen

Ship: R/J AU

Notes: Yuan Fen: Fateful coincidence; destiny which brings two people’s lives together at some point, often through astronomical odds. “It takes hundreds of rebirths to bring two persons to ride in the same boat; it takes a thousand eons to bring two persons to share the same pillow.” A concept related to karma in Chinese Buddism.

Rating: PG/PG13

In which R’s life in NYC catches up with her...

Rachel is dropped off by the hotel by the “Chinese Uber” and returns to find seven missed-call notifications on her iPad’s facetime, all from her ex-boyfriend, Kade Bowen. It’s bizarre and unexpected; certainly, Kade had not made any effort to contact her since their breakup, and seven missed calls in rapid succession hints at a type of desperation very unlike the cool and collected lawyer. Frowning and wondering if something bad has happened in New York, perhaps to her father or maybe some other mutual acquaintance, she returns the call.

Kade picks up after three rings, and his handsome face settles into harassed lines on the screen. “Rachel. It’s half-past nine and I have a meeting in five minutes. I don’t have time right now, I shouldn’t even be answering this at work.”

Rachel’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. “Excuse me? I’m just returning your call. I had seven notifications from you. Is everything all right?” By some miracle, she keeps her voice calm rather than shrewish despite the quick surge of irritation at his tone.

“Yes, everything is fine... look, I have to go very soon. Meeting, like I said. Where were you, anyway? I would have thought that you’d have returned to your hotel a lot sooner than now.”

“Out having dinner with a friend, not that it’s any of your business any more,” Rachel snips out, raising her chin. “It’s what normal people do here at seven o’clock or so, local time.”

“You don’t know anyone there. Even if there are some of your grandfather’s contemporaries left in China, I doubt you’d know any of them, considering he was only a young man himself when he’d left.”

Rachel closes her eyes and exhales slowly, counts to ten in her head. It would not do to give Kade the satisfaction of riling her up, not after the nice evening she’d had, and manages to modulate her voice to a tone of bland politeness so pleasant it could freeze a wildfire. “I’m sorry, it’s been close to a month here, in a small group of people that spend lots of time together on a daily basis. Surely you consider me socially adept enough to have made the acquaintance of one or two by now? I would hardly waste it upon you, but I have a more-than-adequate amount of charm at my disposal should the situation require.” The smile she lets cross her lips as she makes this statement is chilly and sharp enough to cut glass. 

“Of course,” Kade seems immune to her sarcasm, and returns her smile with a condescending one of his own. “I never implied otherwise, Rach. Look, I really do have to go, I’ll call you later.”

“Oh, goody. I can’t wait,” Rachel sneers, then disconnects the call before he could get another word in edgewise. 

She deliberately turns on the television and watches an hour of some period drama, complete with wire-fu and swordplay and elaborate costumes, in spite of language barriers and not the faintest idea of the plot, to distract herself before going to bed.

**

Kade facetimes her again, at a quarter to six in the morning, and it wakes her up. Rubbing sleep out of her eyes, she glares at the face in the screen. “What do you want, Kade?”

“I’m sorry if I woke you, but I have a dinner meeting with a client, so this was the only time,” he says, not sounding particularly sorry. “I suppose I should ask you how your trip has been. Hopefully you’ve been taking care of yourself-- I saw a documentary on sanitation standards in foreign countries, and while I’m sure you’re sensible enough to get vaccinated before leaving, you should still take certain precautions...”

“I only drink water out of rusted drain pipes every other day,” Rachel cuts him off with an eyeroll. “And only once did I five-second-rule it when I purchased dodgy street food and dropped it on the ground by accident. Did you need something, or can I get dressed and ready to go about my day?” 

“Go ahead, I can talk while you do all that. I know how long you take in the mornings.” The smug tone in his voice grates on Rachel’s nerves, and she wonders how she’d ever managed to put up with it, let alone for so long. “I don’t have long-- dinner meeting, like I said, so I’m just going to get straight to the point. I want you to come back to me, Rach.”

Rachel pauses, foamy toothbrush halfway from her mouth, and stares at the screen, speechless. He continues, without apparently expecting any response from her. “We’re good together, you know. You’re smart, beautiful, ambitious-- and while I may not have always shown you how much I appreciate those qualities, you should certainly know that I do. Come on, Rach. We’ve known each other forever-- our fathers are partners at the biggest and most prestigious law firm in Manhattan, for godsakes. Your father even dropped in to speak to me after you left me to say how disappointed he was over that whole debacle. His dearest wish is for us to take over the firm eventually. Harris and Bowen will always remain Harris and Bowen-- I’d even let you keep your maiden name if we married, if you liked.”

Rachel sets her mascara wand down before she stabs herself in the eye by accident, and stares at her reflection in the mirror, unsure of whether to cry or laugh hysterically at what she’s hearing. Deliberately, she takes a minute to turn back to the screen. 

“So, you mean to say that you broke it off with Tiffanie. You know, the yoga instructor that you were seeing on the side.”

“Come on, baby! You know that wasn’t-- that was only physical, and...”

“You really called me seven times for this?” Rachel’s voice is vibrating with rage. “So you mean to say that the bimbo, whose g-string I found in the laundry hamper, was ‘only physical’, in the sense that clearly I am not exciting enough in bed for you. But because I am so much more suitable in all other aspects, you’ve, what, progressed from making decisions with your dick to making decisions based on stock portfolio options and the opinions of the country club?! You know what, Kade? I think that yoga instructor Tiffanie with an ‘ie’ is perfect for you.  Congratulations. I hope you two will be very happy together. Goodbye.” 

He calls two more times, and Rachel ignores him both times, but when her father calls, she sighs and picks up. “Yes, dad? If this is about Kade, the answer is no, never again.”

“Well, then.” Trent Harris raises an eyebrow in an expression identical to Rachel’s. “I guess I just got told.”

“Sorry,” Rachel huffs out a breath and takes a seat on the bed. “Kade’s been calling. He’s trying to get back together.”

“I know,” her father says slowly. “I spoke to him the other day-- he’d mentioned that he didn’t really understand why you’d go on this trip, and that he missed you since the two of you broke up.”

“Well, we won’t be getting back together, so you can put that hope to rest if that’s what you’re trying to do.”

“Not completely,” Trent’s voice is low and careful. Rachel has never heard him raise it, except in the courtroom. “I never did the full story on why you broke up, though.”

“He cheated on me,” Rachel says without preamble. “Of course, he says he’s sorry and that it meant nothing. But I don’t feel as though I should have to put up with that.”

“Certainly not,” Trent’s dark brows draw together in a scowl. “My daughter does not have to settle for anything or anybody. I did mention to him that it seemed as though he had made you unhappy, and to fix it. I didn’t know the details, though.”

“Not worth knowing, dad,” Rachel sighs. “Can we not talk about him?”

“Okay.” Trent looks as though he might have something to add, but acquiesces easily enough. “Are you having a good time in China?”

“Yeah, I am,” Rachel smiles her first genuine smile since last night. “It’s beautiful here, even if I’m apparently not physiologically super-compatible with high altitudes. I can see why Gramps wanted to go.”

“That’s good,” Trent nods, then there’s an awkward split-second pause before he speaks again. “I’m glad you’re happy, connecting with that side of your heritage. Your mother would’ve wanted that, too.”

Rachel doesn’t have many memories of her mother, who’d been buried the same year that she’d started first grade, but the solemnity of her father’s expression lets her take his words at face value. Before she says anything else though, her borrowed Chinese iPhone rings.

It’s John. “Where are you? I’m in the hotel lobby, mei nü,” he tells her when she picks up, and she jerks up her head, realizes the time. She was supposed to be down ten minutes ago.

“Crap, I’ll be right down.” She hangs up, then turns back to her father on facetime. “I have to go. I’ll see you back in New York, dad.”