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Chapter Text

September 2005

When Lan Wangji is 15 years old, he does not expect to fall in love.

Wei Wuxian comes crashing into his life with all the force of a meteorite colliding with the atmosphere, flaming into stardust and hurtling inexorably toward him. It is their first year of senior middle school at Gusu Academy, where Lan Wangji’s family legacy hangs heavily over his head. As the grandson of the school’s founder and the nephew of Lan Qiren, President of the board of directors, Lan Wangji is expected to comport himself with the utmost dignity. Gusu Academy’s reputation as one of the top-ranked International Chinese-owned Private Schools must be upheld, and Lan Wangji is ever conscious of his performance.

He is a model student, a musical prodigy, a bastion of diligence and self-discipline. Lan Wangji expects the last three years of his secondary education to be grueling. He expects the expanded IB curriculum to be demanding, and he knows the English language immersion will be challenging. As a student of the academy since kindergarten, he has been preparing to compete internationally on the academic stage for most of his life. He is prepared to sacrifice what little leisure he has to defeat the most punishing entrance exams the world has to offer. He is prepared to study. He is prepared to succeed.

He is not prepared for Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian, fresh off the train from Yunmeng, with his boisterous laughter and his shining eyes. Wei Wuxian, with his easy touches and his easier smiles. Wei Wuxian, who is all playful sunlight, breaking through the tempestuous storm cloud that is his brother. Wei Wuxian, radiant and inexhaustible in his desire to be Lan Wangji’s friend.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian calls. 

Presumptuous. Audacious.

“Lan Zhan!” he tries again. “Don’t ignore me, Lan Er-gege. I know you can hear me.”

“This is a library. The whole room can hear you. Be quiet.”

Wei Wuxian’s laugh is loud, entirely unrepentant, but he lowers his voice just slightly to reply.

“I wanted to congratulate you. You ranked first in Chinese again! Your language skills are really top-notch.  But I’m going to beat you in Mathematics next week. That’s a promise!”

Lan Wangji huffs out a breath in annoyance. “We’ll see.”

“Aren’t you aware I aced your academy’s entrance exam? They’ve never recorded a higher Math score. Are you nervous? Curious to know what it feels like to be second?”

“I was born second. I’m hardly concerned about it.”

Wei Wuxian laughs again, delighted. “Do people know how funny you are, Lan Zhan? How come no one knows you’re hilarious?”

“Because I’m not,” Lan Wangji says, closing his textbook and turning to regard Wei Wuxian squarely. “And I prefer not to be laughed at.”

“Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian looks almost solemn, save for the spark of mirth in his eyes. “Do you think I’m laughing at you?”

“Aren’t you?” Lan Wangji challenges.

“Of course not! Not like you mean, anyway. I just like to tease you a bit. Doesn’t mean I’m looking down on you.  I would never do that,” Wei Wuxian smiles. His voice is earnest, almost soothing.

Lan Wangji drops his gaze to the cover of his textbook, frowning at the sudden tightness in his chest. It’s unfair, he thinks, to have to feel as if his heart is cradled somewhere in the curve of Wei Wuxian’s smile.

“Tell you what,” Wei Wuxian offers. “If you come first in Mathematics, I’ll do whatever you want.  Anything you’d like--within reason, of course! A one-time task voucher that I, Wei Wuxian, will honourably fulfill.”

Lan Wangji blinks at him.

“Anything I want?” For some reason, Lan Wangji feels his face getting hot.

“Anything you want,” Wei Wuxian grins.

Lan Wangji swallows.  He wants.

“And if I don’t come first? If you outrank me?”

“Then you have to take me to lunch in Caiyi town. Your treat, the Sunday after the exam results.”

Lan Wangji lets out the breath he’s been holding.

“Fine,” he says. “Mark your words.”

Wei Wuxian laughs, quieter this time.  “Oh, I will Lan Zhan.  That’s a promise.”

Wei Wuxian ranks first.

---

Caiyi town is bustling with the steady noises of a happy metropolis, polished storefronts and busy restaurants spilling patrons onto the streets. Wei Wuxian winds his way through the crowds, Lan Wangji following close behind. He pushes on the door of a small, family owned establishment and holds it open for Lan Wangji.  Inside, at a table halfway along the wall from the entrance, Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang are already seated. Lan Wangji clenches his jaw at the way the two of them freeze, eyes wide and incredulous at the sight of him.

It stings a little, and it does nothing to alleviate the jangle of nerves already suppressing his appetite. At first, when Wei Wuxian had informed him they’d have company, he’d almost been relieved. The thought of taking Wei Wuxian out to lunch alone was somewhat nerve-wracking. However, subsequent reflections on having to engage with a table full of Wei Wuxian’s lively friends had only inspired anxiety. Now, with Nie Huaisang gaping at him and Jiang Cheng scowling, he can’t help but feel like he’d rather it was just the two of them.

Wei Wuxian slides into the chair opposite Jiang Cheng, looking extremely pleased with himself. Lan Wangji sinks into the seat next to him, nodding minutely at the two boys across the table. There’s an awkward pause as Nie Huaisang flicks his eyes between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian before he suddenly inhales and exclaims, “Wow.”

Lan Wangji frowns.

Wei Wuxian helps himself to a sip of Jiang Cheng’s tea and smiles beatifically.

“We thought he was kidding. I thought for sure he was full of it, but here you are,” explains Nie Huaisang.

“He is full of it,” Jiang Cheng snorts. “I just didn’t think you’d actually play along. You’re too nice to him, Lan Wangji. He’s going to be more insufferable than ever after this.”

“I,” declares Wei Wuxian, “am adorable. And Lan Zhan is not ‘playing along’, he’s keeping a promise. He’s not treating you two, though, just me. So don’t get any ideas.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” says Nie Huaisang, hands raised in a gesture of surrender. “But I have to say, it’s nice to have you here, Lan Wangji. Always good to have another person to commiserate with.”

“Commiserate?”

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng agrees. “Bemoaning the fallout of Wei Wuxian’s chaotic stupidity is a full-time job.  On behalf of the Jiang family, I sincerely apologize it had to involve you this time, Lan Wangji.”

“Does everyone know what they’re ordering?” Wei Wuxian asks cheerfully, wholly unbothered. “I’m getting chili braised beef.  Lan Zhan, want to share?”

“I don’t eat meat,” says Lan Wangji, feeling awkward.

“You don’t? Why didn’t I know that? Are you vegetarian? Can you eat here? Are you morally cringing at me right now?” Wei Wuxian looks honestly concerned.

Lan Wangji clears his throat. “No, it’s fine. I eat fish.”

“Fish, then!  They have chili braised fish, instead.”

Lan Wangji makes a non-committal noise at the back of his throat and desperately scans the menu for anything not saturated with chilies. There has to be a basic vegetable stir fry on here somewhere, he thinks. He settles on savoury crispy tofu with bamboo shoots and shitake mushrooms.

“So I’m curious,” says Nie Huaisang after they’ve placed their orders. “We know you bet against Wei-xiong on the math exam, which was very brave of you, considering he’s such a phenom.”

Wei Wuxian preens.

“I mean, I know you’re a genius, too, and maybe you didn’t know Wei-xiong swoons for topology jokes, but I need to know: What did he offer you if he lost? Must have been good to go risking a lunch date.”

Lan Wangji swallows a mouthful of tea, trying very hard not to think about the possibility of Wei Wuxian swooning over anything. “He didn’t specify.”

“He didn’t?” Jiang Cheng sounds incredulous.

“Nope!” Wei Wuxian chirps.

“That’s bold, even for you,” says Nie Huaisang.

Wei Wuxian offers an insouciant shrug. “I was never going to lose.”

Lan Wangji sneaks a sideways glance at Wei Wuxian’s face, at the lazy smile that’s settled over his features. It’s a little cocky, a little sly, and as Wei Wuxian leans back in his chair, the lines of his body relax into a casual sprawl, one leg outstretched underneath the table, the other curled beneath his chair. It’s so natural, the ease with which he takes up space, completely unselfconscious. It’s confidence, Lan Wangji realises. He’s never met anyone so comfortable in their own skin. It’s wildly attractive.

He is startled out of his reverie as Wei Wuxian’s gaze slides over to lock with his own. One side of his mouth quirks up in mischief, and then he winks at Lan Wangji.  Immediately dropping his gaze to the arrival of their food at the table, Lan Wangji swallows hard. He fervently hopes that the flush he feels creeping up his neck remains invisible.

“Okay, so.” Nie Huaisang pushes the bucket of rice to the centre of the table and crowds the other dishes close around it for easy sharing. He and Jiang Cheng have graciously ordered a vegetarian noodle dish and a wood ear mushroom salad. “I’m dying to know. Carte blanche, no holds barred, what exactly were you going to ask him for if you’d won?”

“Silence,” states Lan Wangji. “No talking for a month.”

There’s a brief pause before the far side of the table explodes in laughter, Jiang Cheng throwing his head back and howling as Nie Huaisang doubles up over the table. Amidst the fist-pounding and the knee-slapping, Wei Wuxian splutters indignantly.

“Lan Zhan! A whole month? I said within reason, remember?”

“Mn. A month is reasonable.”

“Lan Zhan!”

Across the table, Nie Huaisang is holding his stomach and lolling to one side. “Oh, that was beautiful. What a beautiful idea. Lan Wangji, you really are a genius.”

Jiang Cheng’s laughter morphs into a cackle, his shoulders vibrating with vicious mirth. He raises his eyebrows at Wei Wuxian in a haughty challenge. “Well? What’s wrong? Looks like he’s rendered you speechless after all.”

“Ha! Not likely. And anyway, it hardly matters. I’m still the winner here,” Wei Wuxian sings.

“Oh please! Please bet again!” Nie Huaisang clasps his hands together as if in prayer. “Please bet again on the next English exam! I have to see this dream come true!”

“Hey! I’ll have you know my knack for languages is second to none.”

“Memorizing fifty thousand k-pop songs does not make you bilingual, you moron,” Jiang Cheng sneers.

Wei Wuxian reaches across the table and casually plucks a perfect piece of tofu out of Jiang Cheng’s bowl. Jiang Cheng squawks in protest as Wei Wuxian calmly douses it in chili oil before popping it into his mouth. Chewing carelessly, he waves his chopsticks dismissively at where Nie Huaisang is still wheezing, as if to shoo him away.

“Whatever,” he says. “Even if I were to lose—which I won’t—it wouldn’t be an issue. I can be just as charming with my mouth shut as not.”

“If by charming, you mean genetically predisposed to be annoying,” scoffs Jiang Cheng. 

“I am intrinsically delightful. I’d find a way to endear myself to you, right Lan Zhan?”

Lan Wangji side-eyes him, not daring to meet that mischievous smile head-on.

“After all,” Wei Wuxian drawls, throwing a reckless arm across the back of Lan Wangji’s chair. “There’s always body language.”

Underneath the table, Wei Wuxian snakes his leg around Lan Wangji’s calf, hooking their ankles together and sending a solid line of electric shock straight up the side of Lan Wangji’s body. Eyes wide, Lan Wangji freezes, back ramrod straight and breath caught in his throat. He barely registers Nie Huaisang’s exasperated groan, and he is dimly aware that Jiang Cheng has chucked a napkin at his brother. Wei Wuxian bats it away, his smooth, golden laughter rolling over Lan Wangji like a gentle summer breeze.

It’s only a matter of seconds before Wei Wuxian removes his arm, picks up his chopsticks again and places a generous slice of chili braised fish into Lan Wangji’s bowl. Violent red rivulets of oil begin to soak into his rice, and Lan Wangji concentrates on snipping off the least offensive section of fish before putting it gingerly into his mouth. The heat is immediate, sharp and tingling, mirroring the heat pooling low in his gut. But while the first warmth subsides, prickling into numbness, the second warmth remains, like the embers of a campfire waiting to be stoked.

He doesn’t pull his leg away.

---

They don’t make a wager on the English exam, and Nie Huaisang decries the lost opportunity when Lan Wangji places first. Wei Wuxian remains cheerful. He isn’t the slightest bit disappointed to be ranked fourth; he’s still three spots up from Jiang Cheng. The same is true over the next few weeks in Computing and Biology, then Geography and Chemistry. Wei Wuxian bounces from second to third and back again, Jiang Cheng languishing perpetually seventh. Lan Wangji remains atop the rankings, save for when Wei Wuxian edges him out in Mathematics, and now Wei Wuxian insists on challenging him for Physics. Lan Wangji remains evasive, refusing to commit to another bet.

“Beat me this time and I’ll stay silent all the way to winter break. That’s how confident I am, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji pretends not to hear him, deftly removing the stick figure post-it from where Wei Wuxian has tried to sneak it onto the back of his blazer. He wonders absently if being silent would have to encompass Wei Wuxian’s laughter.  He doesn’t like the thought.

“Arrogant little shit,” Jiang Cheng grumbles. “Why don’t you ever bet on anything you’re not so sure of? I didn’t see you wagering anything on your disastrous performance in Ideology and Political Science.”

“Sixth is not disastrous. Better than your lucky number eight,” Wei Wuxian generously points out.

Jiang Cheng flushes an angry red.

“Besides,” continues Wei Wuxian, infuriatingly nonchalant, “I didn’t even study.”

“Asshole,” Jiang Cheng spits. He yanks off his track jacket so violently he almost splits the zipper. “You never study. You’re always like this.”

“Like what? Naturally gifted? Prodigiously intelligent?” Wei Wuxian struggles with the knot in his tie. “Genius evil overlord in the making?”

“Unbearable!” Jiang Cheng slams the door of his locker, only to have it rebound back toward his face. “Fuck!”

Wei Wuxian laughs uncontrollably, elated at his brother’s self-inflicted misfortune. Nie Huaisang reaches out to yank on Wei Wuxian’s tie. “An evil genius who still hasn’t mastered the half Windsor, apparently.”

Wei Wuxian swats his hand away. “Who says I need to? Lan Zhan, fix my tie for me!”

Lan Wangji gives him a withering look.

“Pretty please?” Wei Wuxian bats his eyelashes.

“Stop wheedling! Use it to hang yourself! And I swear, the next time you nearly make me late to morning exercises, I’m going to suffocate you with your pillow and leave you behind!” snaps Jiang Cheng.  

“You could just leave me behind without the suffocation. You’d get to school faster.”

“You!” Jiang Cheng slams a foot back into his shoe. “Learn to wake up properly! This is the last time! I’m not kidding, I’m just going to let you rot in bed. Let’s see how you like the 300 push-ups as punishment!”

“I might like it better than the 3500 lines of ‘I did wrong’ I had to copy for sleeping in History class last week.” He reaches out and grabs Lan Wangji around his bicep, giving a little squeeze. “Think I could get ripped like you, Lan Zhan?”

“Stop harassing him!” Jiang Cheng roars.

Much to his own consternation, Lan Wangji is getting used to these antics.  Lately, despite Lan Wangji’s vigilant reticence, Wei Wuxian keeps reeling him into the edges of these scuffles, sometimes dragging him right into the middle. He finds it disconcerting how easily Jiang Cheng flies into a rage, and how eager he seems to be to inflict violence on Wei Wuxian. Even if he rarely follows through on his threats, and Wei Wuxian never seems the least bit concerned, something about their turbulent camaraderie unnerves him. It’s too loud, too raucous, and too unlike the tacit, respectful relationship that Lan Wangji has with his own brother.

“There, there,” Nie Huaisang says, tone mollifying. He straightens Jiang Cheng’s blazer with a few efficient tugs, dusting his shoulders off with a couple of decisive flicks. “Ready, gentlemen?”

Together, they leave the change room and head toward their classroom. Lan Wangji walks with one arm tucked behind his back so that Wei Wuxian cannot knock their hands together. Lan Wangji slides into his seat, midway back and next to the window, thankful for the single row that will separate him from Wei Wuxian. It’s just enough space to render the tossing of a note too conspicuous for Wei Wuxian to bother him that way, but still close enough that if he wants to, Lan Wangji can sneak a sideways glance at Wei Wuxian’s profile over the top of where his neighbour’s head is bent in concentration.

Lan Wangji is embarrassed to admit how often he watches Wei Wuxian. His eyes are constantly drifting to the right in order to study the angle of Wei Wuxian’s jaw, to trail down the lines of his throat. He’s examined the fall of Wei Wuxian’s bangs over his forehead, the furrow in his brow when he bites his lip in concentration. He’s memorized the outline of Wei Wuxian’s ear, tracing along its edges where it meets the stark black of his hair. He’s lost an eternity contemplating the delicate mole just below the side of Wei Wuxian’s mouth.

It’s humiliating, he thinks.

Where is his focus? They are only three months into the school year, and already Lan Wangji feels like his concentration is fractured and his regimental self-control is slipping. It’s not like he’s failing; he is still at the top of his class overall.  But his single-minded determination to succeed, to uphold the nearly impossible standards that he’s set for himself, has been compromised by a new sliver of curiosity. For the first time in his adolescent life, Lan Wangji is confronted by the idea that maybe he needs something beyond the boundaries of his meticulous, uncompromising schedule. That somewhere in between the endless academics and extracurricular music commitments, there should be room for something else, something honest and tactile. And that maybe, just maybe, he has been craving it for a very long time. 

Lan Wangji sighs and glares back at his Physics notes. He thinks longingly of the winter break, of the Spring Festival and all of its accompanying distractions, but then his thoughts take a slightly darker turn. His brother won’t be coming home, as the school year in England doesn’t align with the calendar in China. It will be the first time in his life that Lan Wangji will be left to face the family rounds without Lan Xichen. It’s not a happy thought, but the idea of putting distance between himself and Wei Wuxian, combined with the concept of clearing out the metaphorical clutter and starting fresh, is very appealing. Lan Wangji feels like it cannot come fast enough. He needs a hard re-set.

When the Physics results come back, Wei Wuxian actually whoops in triumph, tackling Jiang Cheng into a headlock in front of the wall where the scores are posted. Nie Huaisang claps slowly, genuinely impressed, while Jiang Cheng continues to curse and struggle. Lan Wangji stands passively to one side.

“Congratulations!” Nie Huaisang says. “You win absolutely nothing.”

“I win the right to say I told you so!” Wei Wuxian declares, mussing up Jiang Cheng’s hair and throwing a devilish grin toward a group of girls giggling not far away. “I’ll take your congratulations, too, ladies.”

The group laughs, and the boldest of them steps forward while the shyer girls cover their mouths. “Congratulations, then. Any plans to celebrate?”

“Thank you, Shan Xin!  And I could make plans. Especially if you want to celebrate with me?”

The giggling intensifies. Lan Wangji feels his stomach clench.

Jiang Cheng finally breaks out of Wei Wuxian’s hold and shoves him to the side, sending Wei Wuxian stumbling closer to Lan Wangji. “You’re despicable.”

“You could come, too,” Wei Wuxian offers, sending a sly glance toward the girls. “The more the merrier.”

There’s a little more tittering before Shan Xin shakes her head. “If only I wasn’t out of town this weekend. I’d take a rain check, but something tells me this is just a fluke,” she says, eyes lively.

Wei Wuxian gasps and presses his hand over his heart in mock astonishment. “Shan Xin! How could you! Are you questioning my abilities?”

“Next to Lan Wangji’s? Absolutely!”

There’s more enthusiastic laughter from the girls, and Lan Wangji realises with mounting dread that Wei Wuxian is about to haul him into this interaction.

“Lan Zhan has always been in a class of his own, for sure.” Wei Wuxian casually leans in and hangs his arm around Lan Wangji’s neck, forearm dangling over his shoulder. “But I’d like to think he’s met his match. Right, Lan Zhan?” 

Lan Wangji pointedly does not look at him. He stares straight ahead, rigid as a tree trunk, and tries not to feel the way the back of his neck is prickling at the contact. His ears are on fire, and he desperately hopes that no one has noticed.

There are a few stifled squeals from the group of girls. Shan Xin’s eyebrows are raised high on her forehead, but her mouth twitches up at the side, and she looks more amused than shocked. “Riiiight,” she says. “His match.  If you say so, Wei Wuxian.”

“I do!” Wei Wuxian beams. He tugs his arm gently, just enough to jostle Lan Wangji.

“Are you done?” Lan Wangji grits out.

“Never!” Wei Wuxian proclaims. “I’m going to milk this for weeks!”

Nie Huaisang shakes his head while Jiang Cheng groans. The lingering students gradually disperse, shuffling their way back into their classrooms. Wei Wuxian slides his arm back and down, looping it around to squeeze his hand over Lan Wangji’s elbow, hip-checking Lan Wangji slightly into the touch.  Lan Wangji sways, feeling a bit lightheaded. He still won’t look at Wei Wuxian.

“Er-gege,” Wei Wuxian drawls, voice low. Lan Wangji tries not to shiver.

“Don’t you want to know what I would have asked you for this time?”

“No,” Lan Wangji answers immediately. He sincerely does not wish to know. What if it’s ridiculous? What if it’s shameless?

What if, even if it’s outrageous, Lan Wangji wants to do it anyway?

“Don’t be like that, Lan Zhan. I promise it’s nothing bad. It wouldn’t even cost you any money this time.” He gives Lan Wangji’s elbow another tug. “Lan Zhan. Ask me.”

Finally, Lan Wangji turns his head to regard Wei Wuxian squarely. Wei Wuxian’s eyes are open and earnest, his expression smooth and patient. It’s a stark contrast to the manic exuberance with which he’d just been crowing at everyone, and Lan Wangji can feel his shoulders relaxing in response.

“What is it?” he relents.

“I want your phone number.”

Lan Wangji blinks.

”My phone number,” he repeats.

“Yes. Can I have it?”

No one has his phone number but family and teachers. He realises suddenly how pathetic that feels.

“I know we didn’t bet this time, but you can consider it a congratulatory reward. I think I deserve one. And if you give me this, I swear, I will never hassle you about making another wager ever again, even in Math.”

Wei Wuxian takes a step back, turns to stand directly in front of him, and clasps both hands in front of his face.  “Please, Lan Zhan? Can I please have it?”

Wordlessly, Lan Wangji takes out his phone and unlocks it. He opens the contacts and offers it to Wei Wuxian.  Gleefully, Wei Wuxian snatches the phone, saving his own number and immediately sending himself a text. He hands the phone back to Lan Wangji before digging around in his pocket for his own phone. Lan Wangji looks down at his screen, hardly believing what he’s just allowed to happen.

Instantly, a message pops up.

Wei Ying <3: Thank you~! <3<3<3

Lan Wangji looks up from his phone to where Wei Wuxian is grinning at him, smile stretched from ear to ear in happiness. His stomach does a little somersault. It’s such a small thing. It’s just Lan Wangji’s phone number, but Wei Wuxian looks as if he’s accomplished something stupendous. He looks even more pleased about this than he had about his Physics score. 

Lan Wangji looks away and slips his phone back into his pocket. “Break is over. We should go back.”

“Okay,” says Wei Wuxian, eyes disappearing into crescents.

By the time 5 o’clock rolls around, Lan Wangji is itching to go home. He wants the peace of his music room, wants to pluck out the stress of the day on his guqin. He wants to let the tension vibrate out and away from his body. He’s made it halfway down the hallway before he hears Wei Wuxian call out to him.

“Lan Zhan!”

He stops abruptly.

“Lan Zhan, you’re so fast!” Wei Wuxian skids around to stand in front of him. “Are you going home? We’re going to grab some dinner at the noodle shop down the street if you want to come?”

Lan Wangji shakes his head. “Uncle expects me home tonight.”

“Are you coming back for evening study?”

Another shake of his head. “I have guqin practice.”

“Oh, okay.” Wei Wuxian sounds disappointed, but he brightens up quickly. “I’ll text you later, then. See you tomorrow?”

“Mn.”

Wei Wuxian turns and saunters back toward Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang.  Lan Wangji continues to watch him.

“Hurry up,” Jiang Cheng calls. “We only have an hour and I’m not going to be late for evening session.”

“Whatever,” Wei Wuxian waves dismissively. “I’m skipping tonight.”

Nie Huaisang snorts, and Jiang Cheng’s angry stream of protests disappear around the corner with them.

Later that night, as Lan Wangji is preparing for bed, his phone goes off on the bathroom counter. Toothbrush held between his teeth, he picks it up and opens the message from Wei Wuxian. It’s a glowing selfie. Wei Wuxian’s sweet, impish smile is quirked up as if to hold a secret off to one side.

Wei Ying <3: For my contact pic. Send me one of you!

Lan Wangji stares helplessly at his phone. He is probably the only person in the developed world under the age of 20 who has never taken a photo of himself. His gallery is full of plants, a smattering of sunrises, neighbourhood cats, and the occasional photo of food for whenever his brother messages to ask if he’s eating well.

Lan Wangji studies himself in the mirror. Does he look as helpless as he feels?  He’s not entirely sure.

He spits out any residual toothpaste and gives his mouth a rinse, then he goes to stand against the bathroom door and quickly snaps a selfie. He checks it, and then he grimaces at how miserable he looks. The bathroom light is harsh, too directly above his head, and it renders him almost ghoulish against the dark wooden background of the door.

He tries again in his bedroom, finally settling on the least offensive shot he manages to take while sitting on his bed. He still looks miserable, but Lan Wangji suspects that’s how he must always look. He gives up and sends it, realising that while he’s never been vain, he suddenly wishes his natural expression looked a little less like someone close to him had just died. 

His phone vibrates almost immediately in response.

Wei Ying <3: Lan Zhan, so handsome!!

After a short pause:

Wei Ying <3: Best face!

Attached is an edited copy of the picture.

Wei Wuxian has given him rabbit ears.

Chapter Text

December rolls into January, and winter break crawls closer, air crisp and clear around the growing anticipation of New Year celebrations. They are in the canteen for lunch, crowded around one of the central tables. This, too, has become a ritual; Lan Wangji no longer spends the better part of his lunch break sequestered in the library after inhaling a few mouthfuls of food. Now he sits with a trio of noisy boys, getting caught up in their incessant chatter. He isn’t sure when it stopped being so jarring, when the omnipresent noise of the canteen ceased to wreak havoc on his nerves. It’s still not his favourite environment, not by a long shot, but he’s learned to endure it in a way that’s almost easy now.

Wei Wuxian is picking all the chilies out of Lan Wangji’s cauliflower and adding them to his own plate. “I cannot wait to eat the food at home in Yunmeng. And Jiejie will be home to cook for us!” He sighs happily at the thought.

Jiang Cheng makes a noise of agreement. “Think of all the soup.”

“Mmm, the delicious, delicious soup. Not like this bitter medicinal stuff,” Wei Wuxian says, nudging the neglected bowl nestled into his tray. “I’ve had cough syrup that tasted less like medicine than this.”

Nie Huaisang sighs, balancing his Geography textbook near the edge of his tray. “I don’t want to go home. My parents are going to kill me. My last scores were so low I feel like I’m going to disappear from the wall entirely.  My brother actually called me all the way from London just to yell at me.” He turns to look at Lan Wangji. “He says hi, by the way. Apparently, hanging out with you is the only thing I’ve ever done that he approves of.”

Wei Wuxian looks curious.  “Lan Zhan, you know Nie Huaisang’s brother?”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji confirms. “Nie Mingjue and my brother are good friends. They studied here together. They’re at the same university now.”

Nie Huaisang nods. “Revolting overachievers, both of them. No offense,” he says to Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji shakes his head, unbothered, and continues eating. He’s used to people being in awe of him and his brother, and there is no actual malice in Nie Huaisang’s words. Lan Wangji knows that Nie Huaisang is struggling to keep up, and that it must be hard to bear so little comparison to Nie Mingjue.  Despite being obviously clever, the constant grind of the academy seems to wear on Nie Huaisang more than others. Lan Wangji feels a little sorry for him. He imagines what it would be like if he himself was so starkly different from Lan Xichen in talent and abilities. He imagines it would be dreadful.

“Speaking of which,” Nie Huaisang seems to have remembered something. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. Did you ever get to meet someone named Jin Guangyao?”

“No,” says Lan Wangji. “I understand he’s a university friend of theirs, but I have never met him. He did not study at Gusu.”

“No,” Nie Huaisang says, voice lowered and eyes glinting. “Apparently he wasn’t allowed. His father wouldn’t pay for it, and his mother couldn’t afford it on her own. Guess who his father is?”

“No,” Lan Wangji refuses.  This is starting to feel like gossip.

“Jin Guangyao… Any relation to Jin Zixuan?” asks Wei Wuxian, an edge to his voice.

“The very same!” whispers Nie Huaisang. “Who knew he had a brother? And they’re exactly the same age!”

“What?” Jiang Cheng splutters. “How come we don’t know this?” he asks Wei Wuxian.

“I guess that means Jin Zixuan’s dad is as big a creep as I always thought he was,” Wei Wuxian snorts. “Thank goodness Jiejie broke up with that peacock before he went overseas. Imagine marrying into a family that has surprise brothers attached to it.”

“Thank goodness is right,” Jiang Cheng glowers. “Now as long as he doesn’t come back…”

“Oh, he’ll come back, guaranteed,” says Nie Huaisang. “Who else is going to inherit that real estate empire? Just because Jin Guangyao has finally been acknowledged doesn’t mean he’s being treated kindly. But even creepy old Jin Guangshan was impressed that Jin Guangyao managed to get into King’s College without any international prep school whatsoever. He’s someone to keep an eye on, for sure.”

“I’m so glad they broke up,” Wei Wuxian sighs, less concerned with Jin Guangyao and more preoccupied with thoughts of his sister. “Think she could somehow be married before Jin Zixuan graduates and comes back?”

“If only,” Jiang Cheng wishes. “You know if Mother has her way, the two of them will be back together as soon as he comes home with a degree.”

Wei Wuxian stabs his rice. “Jin Zixuan doesn’t deserve her. He’s such an asshole. And can you imagine? Jin Zixuan being part of the family and having anything to do with the Lotus Pier? His slimy dad probably wants to buy it up and have it painted gold and gaudy.”

“No one is buying Lotus Pier Resort!” Jiang Cheng shrieks. “That’s my inheritance you’re talking about! Marriage would be bad enough, but are you trying to give me nightmares?”

Wei Wuxian shudders. “Nightmares is right. Lan Zhan, did you ever have to meet Jin Zixuan? He and my sister both studied here with your brother, too. Isn’t he awful?”

Lan Wangji lets Wei Wuxian swap out his half-full soup bowl for the rest of Lan Wangji’s tomato and eggs. “I only met them both in passing at school events.”

“That’s too bad,” Wei Wuxian says. “You’d really like my sister. She’s the sweetest person on earth. You should come to Yunmeng sometime so you can meet her properly and see the resort. You wouldn’t stay there, mind you, you’d have to stay at our actual house, but there’s plenty of space in my room, and Yunmeng is really great. Good food, lots of lakes to swim in, lotus seeds to pick, pretty girls everywhere. I could take you all over the place. Maybe over summer break?”  

Lan Wangji swallows a mouthful of soup. He can’t imagine his uncle would permit him to be away from home that long, but if he did…

He thinks about spending a hot summer day floating on a lake with Wei Wuxian, about sharing a handful of lotus seeds, and about having to sleep in Wei Wuxian’s room at night. Lan Wangji can’t envision anything more terrifying.

“Excuse me,” Nie Huaisang says indignantly. “Where’s my invite?”

“Oh!” Wei Wuxian startles. “You can come too, I guess.”

“Thank you,” Nie Huaisang is all sarcasm. “I love feeling like an afterthought.”

Jiang Cheng snorts. “Everyone’s an afterthought to him when Lan Wangji is around.”

Wei Wuxian kicks him under the table. Jiang Cheng squawks in outrage.

Lan Wangji downs the last of the soup and seriously considers escaping to the library.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says. His voice is casual, and his posture is relaxed, but he’s not looking at Lan Wangji. He’s staring at Jiang Cheng, and there is something steely in his gaze. Lan Wangji has never seen it there before.

It looks like a warning.

“What is it?” Lan Wangji prompts.

Wei Wuxian shifts to look at him, suddenly all smiles again. 

“Can I borrow your phone?”

Lan Wangji narrows his eyes. “What’s wrong with your own phone?”

“Just gimme. I promise I won’t prank call anyone.”

Eyes still narrowed, Lan Wangji unlocks his phone and tentatively hands it over. Wei Wuxian taps into Lan Wangji’s contacts and swiftly sends himself Lan Xichen’s number. Lan Wangji snatches his phone back, but not in time to stop him.

“What are you doing?” Lan Wangji demands.

“I’m going to give your brother’s number to my sister,” Wei Wuxian answers like it should have been obvious.

“Why?”

“Because they are old school friends, and I think they should reconnect.”

Lan Wangji glares at him.

“And then hopefully they fall in love and she forgets all about Jin Zixuan. Isn’t your brother supposed to be amazing? I think it’s foolproof.”

“Wei Ying!”

“You can thank me later.”

Lan Wangji lets out a long, heavy breath through his nostrils, mentally counting backward from ten in English and squashing the urge to throttle him.

Jiang Cheng has dropped his face into his hands with a frustrated groan. “Of all the stupid—how did you even get there from here? How does your brain even work? They don’t even live in the same country right now!”

“Skype exists,” declares Wei Wuxian.

“To be fair, this is definitely not the stupidest plan he’s ever had. But it’s probably up there,” says Nie Huaisang.

“It’s harmless,” Wei Wuxian waves away their exasperation. “What’s the worst that could happen? Have a little sense of romance, you guys.”

Lan Wangji collects his tray and quickly goes to stack it in the drop-off area.  He’s not even sure why he’s so annoyed. Wei Wuxian is right. Perhaps two people might simply be given the opportunity to say hello to each other and enjoy it. Picturing it now, he cannot imagine his brother being embarrassed or offended.

Wei Wuxian falls into step beside him, having run to catch up. 

“Are you mad at me, Lan Zhan? Please don’t be mad. I won’t send it if you really don’t want me to.” He sounds suitably contrite.

 Lan Wangji stops and sighs. “It’s fine,” he says.

“Is it really?”

“You were right. It is not a big deal.”

“Then why are you upset?” Wei Wuxian’s expression is curious.

Lan Wangji doesn’t know. He doesn’t know why he’s always so on edge these days. He doesn’t know why, when he was desperate for winter break less than two months ago, he is now dreading the end of the week and the advent of the holidays. It should be a relief. He can finally be at home with his books and his instruments, ensconced in his studies, peaceful and cloistered. 

He looks at Wei Wuxian and thinks, belatedly, that he will miss him.

“It’s not important,” Lan Wangji says. “Send the number. We should get back to class now.”

“Yeah,” says Wei Wuxian, looking thoughtful.

The two of them turn and walk the rest of the way to their classroom. Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang arrive several minutes later amidst a steady stream of tired students. The last few classes inch along until the clock strikes five, and then the sound of chairs scraping across the floor in retreat rings throughout the academy.

Wei Wuxian perches himself on the edge of Lan Wangji’s desk. “Coming to study later?”

“No.”

Wei Wuxian smiles. “What is it tonight?”

“Piano.”

“So talented, Er-gege. When are you going to play for me?”

Lan Wangji huffs at him.

Wei Wuxian lets out a puff of laughter in response. “One day, maybe?”

“Maybe.”

Jiang Cheng materialises to haul Wei Wuxian off the desk. “Dinner. Now. If you’re interested, there’ll be a quick game of basketball before evening study. We just need to eat fast enough.”

“Could do, I guess.” Wei Wuxian waves as Jiang Cheng steers him toward the door. “See you tomorrow, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji remains sitting until the sound of Wei Wuxian’s laughter disappears.

Later that evening, while practicing the piano, Lan Wangji receives a message from his brother.

Xiongzhang: I see you’ve made friends with Wei Wuxian.

Lan Wangji lets his forehead drop to the piano keys.

Friends.

They’re just friends.

Perfect.

---

New Year’s Eve arrives after the usual flurry of cleaning and shopping. The Lan family reunion dinner is a solemn affair, crowded into a private room at one of the city’s most exclusive restaurants.  Lan Wangji pays his respects to his grandfather, bows to an endless stream of great aunts and uncles and greets a swarm of second cousins. It feels a little strained without Lan Xichen at his side; his brother’s steady temperament and open friendliness have always softened the edges of Lan Wangji’s own pristine politeness, and Lan Wangji begins to feel his absence keenly as the night wears on. 

The dinner wraps up sharply at nine, and by 10 o’clock, Lan Wangji is securely at home on the couch in the great room of his uncle’s apartment, a book of classical poetry in his lap. The CCTV gala plays absently in the background. His uncle brews a pot of strong black tea before settling into the chair on Lan Wangji’s left.

His phone vibrates on the coffee table, and Lan Wangji scoops it up to find a slew of photo messages from Wei Wuxian. There is a series of food photos, illustrating what looks like a huge, homey feast of good luck foods. Heaping plates of sumptuous dumplings, the obligatory steamed whole fish, and an endless number of side dishes surround a steaming tureen of lotus root soup.

There is a shot of Jiang Cheng with his mouth full, looking murderous, his perpetual scowl almost menacing in contrast to Jiang Yanli’s sweet, friendly smile beside him. She is leaning toward her brother and flashing a victory sign with her left hand, delicate fingers extending gracefully alongside her face. There is a group photo where Wei Wuxian is blurred slightly; Jiang Cheng has clearly jostled him during the shot.

The next photo is a selfie of Wei Wuxian. He is holding a dumpling in front of his mouth with his chopsticks, eyes crinkled and laughing. In the last photo, the dumpling has clearly been stuffed into his mouth, squirreled away into his cheek while he grins and winks at the camera.

Lan Wangji’s heart stirs in his chest. It’s insistent, a flickering tremor that travels up to tickle at his throat. He swallows it down again, willing away the quivering, but it settles back behind his ribcage, pulsing and tingling.

A message pops up.

Wei Ying <3: Was your dinner as good as mine? Send me pics!

Lan Wangji hesitates before typing back,

I didn’t take any.

Wei Ying <3: Awww, Lan Zhan!! Are you watching the Gala now?

Lan Wangji isn’t really paying attention to it, but at least it’s on. He responds in the affirmative.

Wei Ying <3: I don’t think the guests are as good as last year. Andy Lau is still cool, I guess

Lan Wangji has no thoughts on Andy Lau.

Wei Ying <3: What are you doing right now? Are you really watching? I bet you’re not!

Wei Wuxian proceeds to attach several pictures of dessert. Delicate bowls of sweet soups, fried black sesame dumplings and glistening osmanthus jelly. He includes a picture of himself and Jiang Yanli holding crispy peanut dumplings in front of their mouths, ready to devour them.

Wei Ying <3: Send me a pic!

Lan Wangji dubiously considers sending a shot of his book with his teacup. He suspects he will be mercilessly teased.

No.

Wei Ying <3: Er-gege~! Are you going to make it to midnight?

Maybe.

Wei Ying <3: Stay up with me! I believe in you!!

We’ll see.

Lan Wangji sets his phone back on the coffee table, ignoring the next influx of pictures. He feels like the least interesting person on the planet.

He does, however, make it to midnight.

As the countdown hits zero, his phone goes off again.

Wei Ying <3: Lan Zhan! Nian Nian you yu!

It’s followed by a string of firecracker emojis.

Lan Wangji types back a simple greeting:

Gong xi fa cai.

As an afterthought, he sends along a dog emoji.

The response is immediate.

Wei Ying <3: Worst. Zodiac. Ever. Haha! Xin xiang shi cheng~!

Lan Wangji stares at the screen, suddenly flushed. Why is he so unsettled? He feels slightly sick, nervous with an anxious hope.

What, exactly, is he wishing for this year?

The landline rings, and his uncle goes to answer the phone. It’s Lan Xichen, still eight hours behind in London, calling to wish them a happy New Year. His uncle exchanges greetings and some extended pleasantries before handing the receiver to Lan Wangji.

“Hello, Wangji.”

“Hello, Brother. Xin nian kuai le.”

“Wan shi ru yi. How are you doing? Going to fall asleep soon?” Lan Xichen asks kindly.

“Probably.”

“I regret not being home this year. How was the dinner? Is Grandfather well?”

“It was fine,” Lan Wangji answers. “Grandfather is in good spirits.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Tell me,” he says, a smile in his voice, “how are you finding school these days?”

“Classes are challenging. The days are full. I’m glad for the break.”

“Oh? You’re not going to miss your new friends?”

Lan Wangji is silent.

“How is Wei Wuxian?” Lan Xichen presses on. “I hear he is quite the character.”

Lan Wangji makes a vague noise of agreement.

“You’ll have to thank him for passing on my contact info to Jiang Yanli. It was lovely to hear from her.”

Another silent pause.

“You’re getting along well, then? I understand from Jiang Yanli that the two of you see a lot of each other.”

“We’re in the same class,” Lan Wangji says. “We have no choice but to see each other.”

“Oh?” Lan Xichen sounds curious. “I was under the impression that perhaps the two of you had gotten close?”

“He outranks me in Math and Physics,” Lan Wangji offers, feeling awkward. He’s pretty sure that’s not what his brother is talking about, but he doesn’t know how to respond to that.

Lan Xichen laughs affectionately.  “I see,” he muses, not at all put off. “It’s good that you’re making friends, Wangji. I’m happy for you.”

Friends.

Right.

“I should go to bed,” Lan Wangji says. He’s retreating and he knows it.

“Of course,” says Lan Xichen. “You must be tired.  I’ll let you go. Have a good night, and start the New Year off well tomorrow, Wangji.”

“Thank you, Brother. I will.”

“Good night, Wangji.”

“Good night, Brother.”

Lan Wangji hangs up the phone and takes a deep breath.

Tomorrow he will put on his new clothes and visit his grandfather once more to offer his extended New Year’s greetings. Past the lion dances and the firecrackers, he and his uncle will visit the temple and receive the ceremonial blessing. Lan Wangji will light incense and pray for good fortune. He will begin the New Year as he means to proceed: Focused, virtuous, clearheaded and unfettered by the tumultuous emotions of the last school term. He will conquer this confusion.

But as he tucks himself into bed and drifts off to sleep, his traitorous heart beats a tremulous murmur in opposition to his resolution. Whispering past the edges of his consciousness, it settles and takes root, soft and sibilant. It blossoms there, and Lan Wangji dreams a fragile garden of hope. 

---

The Lantern Festival closes out the New Year festivities with the usual fanfare. Gusu comes alive with thousands of radiant paper lanterns, luminous and colourful against the night sky. Acrobatic dragon dancers weave an intricate pattern across a glittering plaza, and Lan Wangji wanders aimlessly past the gaggles of young people paired off into happy, giddy couples. 

Wei Wuxian is inundating him with pictures of the celebrations in Yunmeng. For the past half hour, he has been spamming Lan Wangji with lantern riddles, trying unsuccessfully to stump him. Lan Wangji wonders if Wei Wuxian is ever going to give up. When the riddles stop and he receives a picture of tangyuan instead, filtered with light flares and sparkles, he feels as if he’s won this round.

The victory is short-lived, because the next thing Wei Wuxian sends him is a selfie with the softest, most entreating smile Lan Wangji has ever seen on his face.

Wei Ying <3: Wish you were here

It’s not fair, he thinks for the thousandth time, that one look from Wei Wuxian, even via a photograph, is enough to topple two weeks’ worth of carefully constructed resolve. Lan Wangji is as helpless as ever, as lost as ever, stranded under the full moon with an aching, overflowing heart.

Lan Wangji misses him.

He’s not used to missing people. He misses his brother sometimes, but it’s nothing like this. Missing Lan Xichen is like turning off the radio in the middle of his favourite song; he knows all the words, and he can still sing it to himself whenever he needs to. But missing Wei Wuxian is like a broken key on his piano. It’s a mislaid note in the middle of a sonata, a sudden thunk so hollow and tuneless it renders the whole piece useless and discordant.

Lan Wangji is used to being alone. He likes his solitude. But now, the absence of one person swallows his stoic tranquility, leaving a chasm of disquiet in its wake. 

Shoving his phone into his pocket without replying, Lan Wangji massages his fingers over his sternum, hoping to ease the ache. Suddenly tired, he turns and makes his way home.

---

The rest of winter break disappears into a rigorous routine of early morning swimming sessions, private tutors, music instruction and free practice time. Lan Wangji is up at 5:00am every morning and in the pool of his apartment complex for an hour. After a quick breakfast, his day begins with calligraphy lessons and segues into studying classic Chinese literature. Lan Qiren personally oversees these subjects, drilling him relentlessly before passing him off to his English tutor. He has an hour of Math after lunch, and the rest of the day is spent sequestered in the music room at the mercy of one teacher after another until dinner rolls around.  The evenings are his to do as he pleases, and sometimes he continues to practice. Other times, he takes long, meandering walks through the park near his apartment.

Wei Wuxian texts him every day, often with a series of pictures. Life at the Lotus Pier Resort looks like something out of another world, like a misty lakeside mirage. Images Wei Wuxian sends of the city are lively and colourful, but the sprawling pictures featuring an endless blanket of dewy, frosty lotus leaves drifting atop a crystalline lake are Lan Wangji’s favourite. It looks idyllic, and Lan Wangji thinks absently of Wei Wuxian’s invitation to visit. He imagines how the same scenes might look in the summer, drenched in sunlight, baked in the afternoon heat.

It’s unnerving to admit how enticing it all is, and despite his best efforts, Lan Wangji can’t help but feel distracted. His New Year’s resolution wavers like a mournful note plucked from a violin string.

February comes to a close, and Gusu Academy comes back to life with the influx of returning students. March first marks the beginning of classes, and Lan Wangji enters the grounds almost as unsettled as he’d left them. 

So much for his hard re-set.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian is effervescent, a live wire of energy, boundless in his smile. “Did you miss me?”

Lan Wangji deigns not to answer, gracing Wei Wuxian with a baleful glare instead.

“Who would miss you?” Jiang Cheng scoffs. “I wish I could have left your stupid face back in Yunmeng. You’re such a pain in the ass.”

“You love me,” Wei Wuixan declares. “You all love me.”

Lan Wangji carefully places his workbook on his desk, trying to ignore the sudden lurch in his chest.

Nie Huaisang turns to face them from the front row. “Everyone ready for round two? Because I’m not.”

There’s a spattering of laughing agreement from several of the other students before they all sit down and classes commence.

It’s as if they’d never left, the second term taking over where the first left off, and the student body is steamrolled almost immediately by the next round of punishing exams. The long, arduous days begin to bleed together, establishing a relentless rhythm of study, eat, sleep, and repeat. Weekends are largely subsumed by spring club activities; Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng have enrolled in tennis, and Lan Wangji resumes his spot on the swimming team. Nie Huaisang forgoes anything physical, opting to stick with the fine arts club instead.  

“Do you think Professor Leung will let me rewrite that History exam? I’m pretty sure I just flunked. I wonder if I prostrated myself at his feet and cried a little, he’d have mercy on me and figure out something for extra credit,” Nie Huaisang says woefully.

“Extra credit? What are you, in pre-school? Give it up, you’re as good as dead,” says Jiang Cheng.

Nie Huaisang collapses over his tray. “My brother is going to fly home just to murder me. My parents will be down to one son. Of all the things I could have failed, it just had to be History.”

“You’re a disgrace to your family legacy, for sure,” Wei Wuxian agrees, ever so helpful.

Nie Huaisang pounds his forehead against the table. Lan Wangji steadies his rattling tray.

They’ve settled back into their daily lunches together, easy banter ricocheting back and forth between them. April has already unfolded into May, and the curriculum is only picking up speed. It’s a non-stop onslaught, a marathon of rote memorization, and Nie Huaisang’s distress increases mournfully every day.  

“Think of it this way,” Wei Wuxian offers. “It’s not like you’ll have to take over the auction house all by yourself. Your brother will be in charge, and he sounds really bossy anyway; I’m sure he’ll just tell you what to do for the rest of your life.”

“You say that like I don’t still have to get into university first. Even if I’m not the CEO, I still have to keep face. I can’t afford to coast right now,” Nie Huaisang wails.

“Can’t afford to drown, either,” Jiang Cheng says, sounding sympathetic. “Where do your parents want you to go?”

“Anywhere, so long as it’s prestigious. I’ll never be able to follow in my brother’s footsteps, but I’m praying there’s a college in the US with low enough standards to accept me. Somewhere with a fancy foreign name, so people will just assume it’s special,” Nie Huaisang confesses.

“There’s always domestic,” Wei Wuxian points out.

“Are you kidding me?” Nie Huaisang splutters. “You think I’d survive the gaokao? Why else do you think I’m in an exclusive international private school except to avoid it? No, no, no--I absolutely have to study abroad.”

“Fair,” says Wei Wuxian. “I sometimes forget that everybody here is the next generation of China’s global elite. What else are we here for, if not to leap-frog over the filthy masses and into the happy embrace of privilege and nepotism?”

Jiang Cheng snorts. “You say that like you’re not a part of it. Don’t forget who’s paying your tuition, you ungrateful brat.”

“Never!” Wei Wuxian vows. “I know how lucky I am. Don’t think I’m not going to take full advantage. Society may think I am literal trash, but that’s not going to stop me from taking over the world.”

Lan Wangji frowns, and Jiang Cheng’s expression darkens.

“Don’t say that,” Lan Wangji protests quietly.

“Don’t worry, Lan Zhan. I know my worth, but I’m not deaf. I know what people say about me.”

“Who is saying such things?” Lan Wangji’s frown deepens.

Wei Wuxian shrugs, dismissive. “No one I care about. In any case, it’s not important. I’m going to go to MIT and I’m going to leave my haters in the dust. Just see if I don’t.”

“If anyone can do it, it’s you,” agrees Nie Huaisang. “Me, on the other hand…” He sighs at his mountain of textbooks. “Guys, we have to survive two more years of this.”

Jiang Cheng grimaces and tears his mantou in half. “What doesn’t kill us only makes us stronger. And I’m not going to die here,” he proclaims.

“Good, because you’ll never get into Harvard Business School as a corpse,” Wei Wuxian concurs. “And if you don’t get in, Auntie Yu will kill you herself.”

“Don’t remind me!” Jiang Cheng snaps. “I don’t need you telling me that!”

“Aw, Jiang Cheng, don’t be like that. Of course you’ll get in. I believe in you!”

“Condescending asshole,” Jiang Cheng growls.

Lan Wangji glances to where Wei Wuxian is picking the beansprouts out of his curry and dropping them into Lan Wangji’s empty soup bowl. Wei Wuxian’s mood remains light and unaffected, but Lan Wangji is troubled by his earlier admission. The thought of people looking down on Wei Wuxian does not sit well with him. Thinking of Wei Wuxian bearing the brunt of snobbish disdain leaves a bad taste in Lan Wangji’s mouth. Wei Wuxian’s talents and abilities are beyond reproach, and Lan Wangji believes, perhaps naively, that there should be no other metrics by which to judge him. That other people may have already disregarded such an exceptional person on the basis of his birth or his circumstances rankles Lan Wangji’s sense of fairness. It’s an unfriendly reminder that the world is not as just as it should be.

Nie Huaisang scrapes a hand across his face and lets out a long, noisy sigh.

“All right,” he says. “Who’s ready to stake their life on this Chemistry test with me?”

Wei Wuxian pumps his fist. “That’s the spirit. Onwards and upwards into battle, my friend!”

“Like you even studied,” Jiang Cheng grouses. “You’re such a slacker. Are you even prepared for this?”

“Of course I’m prepared. I watched like six episodes of Iron Chef last night and Morimoto used some liquid nitrogen. Cooking is just chemistry, you know.”

“I hate you,” Jiang Cheng declares.

“Well, that’s settled then. I guess we’re all as armed and ready as we’ll ever be for this fight,” Nie Huaisang says. “Pencil sharpened, calculator ready, my last will and testament scribbled on this napkin… Here goes nothing?”

“We die like men,” Wei Wuxian intones solemnly.

Together, they drop off their trays and file down the hallway, ready to take on their fate.

Chapter Text

“So it’s just you and your Uncle living here?”

Lan Wangji flicks the light on in the foyer and changes out of his shoes by the door. Wei Wuxian is quick to follow, sliding into the house slippers that Lan Wangji offers before padding along behind him. It’s a Sunday evening near the end of June, and year-end exams are looming. They’ve just finished up dinner with Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang after a half-day of club activities and an afternoon cram session at the library. The other two boys have headed back to the dorms, but somehow, Wei Wuxian has managed to invite himself over to study.

“While Brother is away at university in London, it’s just the two of us,” Lan Wangji answers.

Wei Wuxian nods, taking in his surroundings. It’s beautifully austere, smooth dark wood and white marble countertops, gleaming stainless steel and a soft, cool light reflecting off every pristine surface. Lan Wangji wonders how it must look to Wei Wuxian, if the strict, stark minimalism comes across as forbidding or unwelcoming. He knows firsthand that the comfort of one person can be the distress of another, knows it in the way that clutter makes him itch with anxiety, or the way a tightly packed, cacophonous crowd sets his teeth on edge.

But Wei Wuxian just smiles at him, eyes scrunching up cheerfully. “It’s nice,” he says. “Also huge. Don’t let me get lost in here, okay?”

“Constant supervision,” Lan Wangji says gravely.  

Wei Wuxian laughs, light and melodious. “Where do you usually study?”

“My room.  Or the music room, if I need to play for a while.”  He hesitates a little. “Would you like a tour?”

“I would love a tour!” Wei Wuxian’s smile blossoms in tandem with the heat unfurling in Lan Wangji’s chest.

He takes Wei Wuxian from room to room, methodically and clinically outlining the purpose of each. By the time they enter the music room, Wei Wuxian’s eyes are wide with admiration.

“I can’t believe you have two pianos. That’s just overkill, isn’t it?”

“The grand piano in the living room is mostly for show. I only ever play it when Uncle has important guests to entertain, if they are musically inclined.” He runs his hand protectively over the top of the upright grand tucked securely away from the window, six inches from the inside wall.  “I prefer to play on this one.”

Wei Wuxian nods appreciatively. “This one looks well-loved.”

“It was my mother’s,” Lan Wangji says before he even knows what he’s saying. He stops abruptly, as if he’d just disclosed a secret best kept hidden.

Wei Wuxian regards him with wide, curious eyes, but says nothing, conscious of the sudden fragility. It’s as if he knows, instinctively, that Lan Wangji has never spoken frankly about his mother to anyone. That this moment, offered in confidence, is something rare and precious.  And then Lan Wangji remembers: Wei Wuxian is also an orphan, perhaps with even fewer means to recall a beloved parent from memory than himself.

He swallows thickly and presses on.

“She taught me how to play as soon as I could sit upright. She used to sing, sometimes. She was very talented.”

“She sounds wonderful,” Wei Wuxian breathes, then gestures to the shelves displaying the other instruments. “Did she teach you all of these?”

Lan Wangji shakes his head. “No, just piano. I learned the violin and the guqin later, after she passed.” He gestures to the top shelf. “The xiao belongs to my brother.”

“How old were you when she died?” Wei Wuxian asks quietly.

“Six,” he says. “It was cancer,” he adds.

“And your father?”

“Eleven,” he says. It comes out dark and bitter, like day-old coffee.

Wei Wuxian’s brow creases, sensing the change in mood. “Lan Zhan. That’s not so long ago.”

Lan Wangji shakes his head again. “It’s not that. He… He didn’t die honourably. He drank himself to death, somewhere far away from his family. He was gone long before he actually died. Uncle has been my guardian since I was seven.”

Lan Xichen has always insisted that their father was to be gently pitied, that what he’d really died of was a broken heart. But Lan Wangji cannot feel anything so sympathetic. He cannot draw forth forgiveness for the shadow of a man who’d abandoned his own sons to a grief they’d barely understood. He wonders if his mother could have forgiven him.

“Do you remember your parents?”

Wei Wuxian smiles softly, eyes going distant. “No, not really. I have pictures. Uncle Jiang gave me quite a few after he finally managed to get me out of foster care. But I was only four when they died, so…” He shrugs. “I remember my mother’s laugh, though. I know that she loved to laugh.”

“Wei Ying…”

This time, at the sound of his name, Wei Wuxian’s smile uncurls like the first buds of springtime, eyes shining and crinkled at the corners.

“Lan Zhan, do you have a picture of your mother?”

Lan Wangji nods, then gestures for Wei Wuxian to follow him out of the music room. The last stop is his bedroom, and he cracks the door open with only a small jolt of apprehension. He heads toward his desk and picks up the small picture frame from where it sits atop the highest floating shelf. When he turns, Wei Wuxian is surveying the room, eyes meandering and expression playful.

“Wow,” he says. “Okay, yeah, no, you are definitely never coming over to my dorm room now.”

Lan Wangji raises an eyebrow, and Wei Wuxian bursts out laughing in response.

“Your room is so clean and organised it might as well be a museum! In a good way, I promise. My dorm room is… not.” He laughs again, free and unfettered. “Can I blame Jiang Cheng? I’m going to blame Jiang Cheng. I may be the king of localized chaos, but he is just a slob!”

His laughter dissolving into a chuckle, Wei Wuxian steps forward and extends his hand, palm upward.

“May I?”

Lan Wangji slips the picture frame into Wei Wuxian’s outstretched hand, careful not to touch his fingers. Wei Wuxian brings the photograph toward his face, anticipation written across his features. He inhales softly, as if in wonder, then exhales an exclamation.

“Oh wow,” he breathes. “Lan Zhan, she’s beautiful. She looks just like you! You have her eyes.”

Embarrassed, Lan Wangji averts his gaze. “I don’t think so,” he says.

He shoves his hands into his pockets to avoid the uncharacteristic urge to fidget, then hazards a glance back at Wei Wuxian, who is still engrossed in the picture.  Sometimes, Lan Wangji thinks he can see his mother in the crescent of his brother’s smile, in the kindness that suffuses Lan Xichen’s eyes. He’s never been able to see her in himself; the severity of his brow and the heavy weight of his cold, hard stare renders her invisible.

Wei Wuxian cocks his head to one side, considering. “No, I think you’re wrong. I see a lot of her in you. Here,” he says, and he takes a step forward to position the photograph on the left side of Lan Wangji’s face, close enough that the frame brushes against the shell of his ear.

Wei Wuxian is suddenly standing very close, leaning into Lan Wangji’s space so that his breath scatters across Lan Wanji’s cheekbones. Wei Wuxian’s eyes are wide and searching, scanning back and forth with careful, eager scrutiny. Lan Wangji stands frozen in place, stiff as a board with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He doesn’t trust himself to breathe.

Wei Wuxian furrows his brow and bites his lip in concentration, and that’s all it takes. It’s just a flicker of motion at the edge of his vision, but Lan Wangji is caught, eyelids fluttering downward in a moment of weakness so raw and sudden that he lets out the breath he’s been holding in a shuddering sigh. His face goes slack and his eyes quiver shut—only to snap open again, stunned back into stillness, as Wei Wuxian’s free hand comes up to ghost his fingertips over the arch of Lan Wangji’s eyebrow, to tug at the delicate skin near the corner of his eye.

“There,” Wei Wuxian whispers, pupils blown dark and wide. “Right there.”

An eternity of traitorous heartbeats reverberate in his ears as they stand there, tender and astonished, locked together by the barest of touches, the tip of Wei Wuxian’s thumb hovering just over Lan Wangji’s lips. All he’d have to do is lean in, and---

The sound of a key turning in the front door is enough to send Lan Wangji jerking backwards in a violent flinch. The back of his knees collide with his desk chair and he nearly topples, arms scrambling behind himself for purchase on the desk. At the same time, Wei Wuxian yelps and jumps backwards, stumbling a bit before going perfectly still. When Lan Wangji has collected himself enough to look up, mortification permeating every fibre of his being, Wei Wuxian is staring at him with such a look of agitation that it’s verging on panic. His eyes are wider than Lan Wangji has ever seen them, and there is a perfect dusting of crimson across his cheeks.  Against his chest, pressed over the top of his heart, Wei Wuxian is still clutching the photograph, knuckles white with strain.

“Wei—“

“Wangji.”

Lan Wangji straightens up, quick as a lightning bolt, as his uncle knocks briskly before entering.

“I thought I heard something crashing around, are you all right—?”

Lan Qiren is brought up short, surprise written on his face as he registers the presence of his nephew’s guest. Still more closely resembling a startled owl than one of his academy’s students, it takes a moment for Lan Qiren to register that this is indeed Wei Wuxian. His features darken ever so slightly.

“Wangji,” he admonishes. “It’s not like you to bring guests home without warning.” Or at all, really, but Lan Qiren would never say that. “I’m afraid I was unprepared to welcome him. My apologies,” he says to Wei Wuxian.

Lan Wangji cringes internally.  His uncle doesn’t sound very sorry.

Lan Qiren’s full attention is on Wei Wuxian, his countenance reflecting a shadow of disapproval. Lan Wangji desperately clears his throat and glares meaningfully in Wei Wuxian’s direction, hoping to catch his eye.  Wei Wuxian has yet to respond and greet Lan Qiren properly. He still looks like his brain is trying to catch up with reality, and the tell-tale crimson flush across his cheeks has only deepened.

“I trust you’re here to study?” Lan Qiren snaps.

Finally, Wei Wuxian jolts to attention, startling out of his trance and clasping the picture frame behind his back.

“Yes, thank you for having me, Director Lan.” He executes a quick bow. “Lan Zhan and I are practicing for the end of year oral examination in English.  My, uh, vocabulary could use some work.”

“I see.  Well,” Lan Qiren glances at the clock. “Wangji. It’s almost seven. Better make the most of it. Will you be requiring dinner?”

“No, thank you, Uncle. We’ve already eaten.”

 “Then I will leave you to it,” he says, before sweeping out the door.

As the latch clicks shut, Lan Wangji watches Wei Wuxian deflate until he looks at least three inches shorter than he actually is. He rubs at the back of his neck and clears his throat, turning his head to glance at Lan Wangji from beneath his lowered lashes. Lan Wangji stares at him, pressing his mouth into a thin, hard line. He’s not sure what else his own face is doing right now. He hopes it looks implacable as ever.

Eventually, Wei Wuxian stands up straight and faces him. He looks slightly sheepish, but any traces of contrition are soon chased away by the twitching at the side of his mouth.

“So,” he says, sounding almost casual. “You really go to bed at 9 o’clock, huh?”

Lan Wangji sighs. “Yes.”

“That’s cute. I guess that explains why you never attend evening session. Not that you need it. Do you… want me to get out of your hair?”

“No. It’s fine. We have an hour. Hour and a half.” He thinks of their unopened backpacks, abandoned on the counter in the great room.  “I’m going to get some water. Do you need anything?”

“No, thank you. I’m fine.”

Lan Wangji stops to look at him and immediately regrets it.  Wei Wuxian is still holding the photograph in one hand. His other hand is pressed to his own cheek, cradling the last remnants of crimson still staining his complexion. His head is tilted slightly into his hand, he’s frowning just the tiniest bit, and he is contemplating Lan Wangji with the same intensity that sent them stumbling away from each other barely five minutes ago.

Lan Wangji bolts.

He’s standing in the kitchen, resisting the urge to shove his head in the freezer and patiently waiting for the filtered water to trickle into his glass. Thankfully, Lan Qiren has headed straight into his office, so there will be no more awkward remonstrations.  He downs the first glass and then refills it. He retrieves a second glass and fills that as well. He knows that if he doesn’t bring one for Wei Wuxian, he’ll just have to share his own, despite Wei Wuxian’s earlier protestations of not being thirsty. He doesn’t need to think about placing his lips over an imprint of Wei Wuxian’s mouth.

Shouldering both their bags, Lan Wangji sets his jaw and returns to his room. It’s only another hour, he reasons. They’ll have a focus, a purpose, and Lan Wangji can concentrate on the cold, hard rules of English grammar, funnel his energy into the different thinking pathways of a foreign language. How hard could it be?

As it turns out, it is nearly impossible.

Wei Wuxian is a chaotic study partner. He eschews the normal methods of memorization, waving away Lan Wangji’s carefully organized flashcards, his sterile conversation scenarios, and any other foolproof technique honed over years of academic investigation that keeps a language dry and static. Wei Wuxian’s conversation is abrupt and spontaneous, dripping in slang and idioms, smoothly dropping casual exclamations and references to things Lan Wangji has no hope of understanding. By the 45 minute mark, Lan Wangji’s head is spinning, and he’s nearly ready to crawl out of his skin in frustration.

And then, when Wei Wuxian drops an emphatic curse word that Lan Wangji definitely recognizes, he feels himself snap.

“Wei Ying! Be serious!” It’s sharp and short, and Lan Wangji wonders if he looks as enraged as he feels.

Wei Wuxian, to his ever mounting vexation, is completely unperturbed.  

“Lan Zhan, it’s just a swear word. Don’t worry, I won’t actually say that during the exam. I’m not an idiot.”

Lan Wangji grinds his teeth, tempted to voice his disagreement.

“If you don’t want to practice seriously,” he grits out, “then you can leave.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyebrows shoot up, incredulous.

“I am practicing seriously! Lan Zhan, this is how people actually talk. No one speaks like a stilted textbook in the real world. Can you imagine talking to a girl like that? You’d probably scare her away!”

Lan Wangji makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat.

“And anyway, it’s not like I don’t know how to behave during a test. I’ll read the script, at least to a point, but Lan Zhan, isn’t it more fun this way? I think you,” he says gravely, “just need to watch more television.”

A pause.

“What?”

“Television. American television. I can bring my laptop next time—we could watch ER, or Sex and the City!  Wait, no, there’s probably too much nudity in that for you—“

Lan Wangji chokes.

“Maybe Friends, that’s safe, or Gilmore Girls—I hope you hate Dean as much as I do—or oh! How about a movie? Maybe you’d like something old fashioned, like Pride and Prejudice? Or we could go see a movie together! What about Casino Royale? I love James Bond—wait, no, that’s probably more nudity,” Wei Wuxian rambles.

Lan Wangji is going to self-combust. He’s sure of it.

Wei Wuxian looks at him expectantly.

“Are you telling me,” Lan Wangji manages to say, “That you learned all of your English from watching television?”

“Well, yeah. That and pop music. Jiang Cheng makes fun of me, but you can learn a lot from Beyonce,” he says sagely.

Lan Wangji stares at him, feeling helpless. The light in his room is suddenly over bright, blurring around the edges of Wei Wuxian’s form where he sits cross-legged on the bed.  Lan Wangji is suddenly very, very tired.

Wei Wuxian tilts his head to the side and blinks slowly, smoothing out his expression with a gentle smile. “How about,” he says softly, soothingly, “I make you a playlist? I know you love music. I promise it won’t all be bubble gum pop. Would you like that, Lan Zhan?” His voice is almost a whisper.

Lan Wangji drops his eyes from Wei Wuxian’s gently probing gaze, coming to settle on Wei Wuxian’s hands. He can still feel the ghost of their touch on his face, the whisper of Wei Wuxian’s fingertips across his brow.

He nods, slowly, before swallowing. Quietly, he says, “I’d like that.”

“Okay,” Wei Wuxian breathes.

They sit like that, silent, for what feels like an eternity before Wei Wuxian comes to life and stretches his arms above his head, long and lithe. He yawns, scrunching up his nose, before letting out a contented sigh and smiling at Lan Wangi.  “It’s late,” he says, voice still soft. “You probably want to sleep.”

“Mn.” It’s all he can manage.

“Walk me out?”

Lan Wangji nods again, feeling almost shy.

In the elevator on the way down, Lan Wangji is pensive. He watches Wei Wuxian out of the corner of his eye, taking in the serene expression on his face. There’s nothing of Lan Wangji’s own inner turmoil reflected there, and Wei Wuxian hums softly, some fanciful tune, eyes distant and happy.  Gone is any trace of his former agitation, of the panic that seemed to paralyze him back in front of Lan Qiren. Wei Wuxian is peaceful, and Lan Wangji envies him.

Lan Wangji loves him.

The realization is as sudden as it is wistful, echoing through his heart like a secret whispered into a seashell. It’s exquisitely painful, the way his heart clenches as they walk out of the elevator together, arms swinging easily side by side, as if Lan Wangji’s whole world hasn’t just shifted irrevocably on its axis. The fresh night air on his face is a welcome relief as they step outside, and Lan Wangji walks Wei Wuxian to the side of the road.

Wei Wuxian turns to face him, and it’s like a punch to the gut. He is beautiful like this, even under the harsh glare of the streetlamp, and Lan Wangji cannot look away. Wei Wuxian’s eyes are soft and imploring as he hikes his bag up onto both of his shoulders, settling into that same intense contemplation as he searches Lan Wangji’s face.

“Thank you for tonight,” Wei Wuxian says, calm and gentle, as if Lan Wangji is a deer he’s afraid to startle. 

“Mn,” Lan Wangji manages, before clearing his throat. It feels as if he’s trying to speak around broken glass. “Thank you for coming.”

Wei Wuxian’s face is suddenly all concern, and Lan Wangji curses himself for whatever just gave him away.

“Lan Zhan, why do you look so sad? Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?” Wei Wuxian starts forward then hesitates, as if he wants to crowd into Lan Wangji’s space again, fingers flexing around the straps of his backpack.

Lan Wangji shakes his head, mute and devastated.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Lan Wangji shakes his head again.  Not this. Never this.

The furrow of worry on Wei Wuxian’s brow deepens slightly before smoothing over into something that looks like determination. It’s everywhere in the set of his jaw, in the way he squares his shoulders, in the way he takes one decisive step directly toward Lan Wangji, bringing him up just short of their toes touching.

“Lan Zhan. Lan Wangji. Can I tell you something instead?”

Lan Wangji stares at him, utterly perplexed.

“Do you know,” Wei Wuxian begins, full of resolve, “that you’re my favourite person? That I can’t wait to see you every day? That I spend so much time thinking and talking about you that Jiang Cheng has outlawed your name from conversation? Do you know I just ignore him and talk about you anyway?”

Lan Wangji gapes.

“Do you know,” Wei Wuxian soldiers on, “that I think you’re adorable when you pretend to like spicy food?  That you’re the most considerate, gracious person I’ve ever met, and if anyone ever calls you cold, I kind of want to beat them up? Do you know that you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen? That you’re so beautiful it hurts to look at you sometimes?”

Wei Wuxian sways impossibly closer, limpid eyes wet with longing. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?”

It’s too much.  It’s too much all at once. Lan Wangji stands motionless, face lowered and eyes downcast, still as a statue. But there’s nothing still about his heart, hammering against his ribcage with all the velocity of a hummingbird’s wings.

“Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian’s voice is thick and a little hoarse. “I just like you so much.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, in the space that’s not completely overwhelmed, Lan Wangji wonders what he must look like right now, struck dumb and immobile while Wei Wuxian is being impossibly brave. He wonders if his anguish is written on his face.

Wei Wuxian inches forward, his hands drifting up to settle just above Lan Wangji’s elbows, fingers curling tenderly around his arms. He strokes his thumbs back and forth across the tightly coiled muscles there, gentle and reassuring, holding Lan Wangji steady as a slight tremor passes through his body.  Wei Wuxian leans in, eyes hooded, and nudges Lan Wangji gently with his nose, tipping his face up until Lan Wangji’s trembling lips are just a hairsbreadth away from Wei Wuxian’s own. It’s the barest whisper of a kiss, a touch so soft and brief that Lan Wangji wonders if he imagined it.

But then Wei Wuxian’s hands are skimming up his arms to curl around the back of his neck, giving a little tug, and suddenly their mouths are sliding together, Wei Wuxian angling his face for better access, guiding the tilt of Lan Wangji’s head with his hands. Lan Wangji comes alive, all his apprehension melting into a desperate, yearning heat. He wraps his arms around Wei Wuxian’s waist and pulls him tightly against his own chest, the press of their lips growing frantic. Wei Wuxian’s hands are in his hair now, fingers threading through the ebony strands and pressing firmly into his scalp.

Lan Wangji runs his hands up Wei Wuxian’s back, sliding underneath his backpack to grip at Wei Wuxian’s shoulders, crushing their bodies together. He nips slightly at Wei Wuxian’s bottom lip, and when Wei Wuxian gasps in surprise, Lan Wangji slips his tongue into Wei Wuxian’s mouth. The long, languid moan Wei Wuxian gives in response inspires a full-body shudder, and he presses deeper into the yielding wetness, exploring all the places that give shape to Wei Wuxian’s smile.

They finally pull apart, almost startled, breathing hard and fast against each other. Wei Wuxian is staring at him with a look of barefaced wonder, eyes sparkling like starlight. Lan Wangji is certain that a similar look must be reflected on his own face, every nerve in his body suffused with something like awe. He can scarcely believe what’s happening. Part of him is terrified that he won’t be allowed to keep this.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian beams at him, his smile spreading wide and warm. “I think maybe you like me too?”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji exhales, raw and rough. “So much.”

“Er-gege,” Wei Wuxian exclaims, voice soft and gummy. He drops his face onto Lan Wangji’s shoulder and places his hand over Lan Wangji’s heart. Lan Wangji lowers his chin and presses his cheek against Wei Wuxian’s temple, his own hand coming up to cradle the back of Wei Wuxian’s head.  They stay like that for what feels like ages, holding each other carefully. It’s silent but for the sound of their own reverberating heartbeats.

Please, Lan Wangji thinks. Please let him have this.

Eventually, Wei Wuxian lifts his head and sighs. “I really should get going. Jiang Cheng will think I’ve fallen into a ditch somewhere.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji says, not really wanting to part yet. He curls his fingers in towards his palm and runs his knuckles over Wei Wuxian’s cheekbone, loving how Wei Wuxian’s eyelids flutter in response.  He still can’t believe this is allowed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes, bright and early.” Wei Wuxian reaches up to grasp the hand still hovering against his cheek, uncurling the fingers and planting a kiss into Lan Wangji’s palm.

“Text me when you get home,” says Lan Wangji, heart swelling with affection.

Wei Wuxian squeezes his hand. 

“I will,” he promises. 

Lan Wangji watches him go, watches as Wei Wuxian turns back underneath the streetlamp at the corner to wave goodbye before disappearing around the bend. Lan Wangji lets his head fall back, staring aimlessly into the sky. He breathes in deeply, letting the night air fill his lungs, holding it there for a moment before letting it out, attempting to exhale the last of his anxiety.

He’s in love. He knows it as soon as he thinks it.

Wei Wuxian likes him back. It’s almost too good to be true.

Except that it is true. It has to be true.  Wei Wuxian’s earnest confessions echo in his heart, steady and insistent. Lan Wangji just has to trust him.

Back in the apartment, Lan Wangji toes his shoes off and shuffles into his slippers. He is heading to the bathroom, intending to take a shower before bed, when he notices his uncle standing quietly near the far window, hands clasped behind his back as he gazes into the night. Lan Qiren turns slightly to regard him, his face half in shadow. His expression is severe, and there’s something foreboding in the set of his brow.

“The Wei boy. How long have you been friends with him?”

Lan Wangji blinks, caught off guard by his uncle’s sudden inquiry. He hardly knows when Wei Wuxian started to qualify as a friend, barrelling his way into Lan Wangji’s life and refusing to be ignored. He doesn’t even know if calling him a friend at this point will suffice. But something about the way his uncle is narrowing his eyes at him makes Lan Wangji cautious.

“He’s in my class. We’ve been familiar since the first term.” Deciding to be direct, Lan Wangji asks, “Uncle, is something wrong?”

“Wei Wuxian is…” Lan Qiren pauses, choosing his next words carefully. “Eccentric. I hope he is not distracting you from your studies.”

Lan Wangji feels a stab of guilt, knowing that the things burned into his memory from tonight have nothing to do with speaking English.

“He’s very smart, Uncle. He pushes me to be better,” Lan Wangji says, decidedly sincere. There’s nothing he wants more than to be good, to be better for Wei Wuxian. “He won’t distract me.”

“See that he doesn’t,” Lan Qiren says darkly. He sweeps past Lan Wangji and down the hallway, disappearing into his own room.

A quick shower does nothing to dispel Lan Wangji’s new sense of unease, but as he settles into bed, his phone vibrates on the nightstand. Tapping it open, the screen displays one new message from Wei Wuxian.

Wei Ying <3: I’m home now, safe and sound!

A moment later, another message pops up.

Wei Ying <3: You’re really great. I like you. <3

Lan Wangji feels his face relax, the last tension of the day bleeding out of his body. He touches the screen as gently as he’d touched Wei Wuxian’s face, running his thumb across the words that are unspooling so much tenderness inside his chest.

He types back:

I’m so glad.

Goodnight, Wei Ying.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Lan Wangji awakens to a new level of anxious anticipation. A few quick laps in the pool and a brisk, cold shower cannot banish the jittering of his erratically beating heart.  He absently smooths the creases out of his school tracksuit and nearly forgets to eat breakfast. By the time he enters the school courtyard, his nerves are almost shot, pulled taut and ready to snap like an overextended harp string.

Wei Wuxian arrives with Jiang Cheng, early for once. Catching sight of Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian breaks away from his brother in a half-sprint and streaks across the courtyard, his face alight with excitement. For one terrifying moment, Lan Wangji thinks Wei Wuxian means to tackle him, and he stiffens as his eyes go wide. But Wei Wuxian merely skids to a halt in front of him, standing a little closer than is strictly necessary, breathing fast and smiling like the sunrise.

“Hi!” he says, voice bright and giddy.

“Hi,” Lan Wangji manages in return.  It comes out a little breathless.

“Good morning,” Nie Huaisang says pointedly, somewhere to Lan Wangji’s left. “Fancy seeing you here so early.”

Wei Wuxian spares him a glance, smile going a little lopsided. “Morning. Didn’t see you there.”

“Imagine that,” Nie Huaisang deadpans, but he seems more amused than annoyed.

“What the hell’s gotten into you?” Jiang Cheng huffs, having jogged to catch up. “Since when do you have this much energy in the morning? And after you kept waking me up with your stupid laptop glare. I swear, you’re not even human.”

“Now I get it,” Nie Huaisang snaps his fingers in understanding. “You didn’t actually get up on time. You just never went to sleep.”

“You didn’t sleep?” asks Lan Wangji.

“Nah,” Wei Wuxian says. His eyes are glittering as he winks at Lan Wangji. “Too excited.”

Lan Wangji’s stomach does a backflip.

“What for?” Jiang Cheng scoffs. “The thought of today’s final math review got you all hot and bothered, or something?”

“Or something,” Wei Wuxian says lightly. “Today is just a good day.”

“Would be a better day with more sleep last night,” Jiang Cheng grumbles.

“Jiang Cheng.” Wei Wuxian turns to look at him. “Sometimes I think you are determined to be unhappy. Just relax, why don’t you? You’ll never get a girlfriend if you keep scowling like that.”

“Who wants one?” Jiang Cheng roars. “Worry about yourself!”

Wei Wuxian’s grin is positively rakish. “Trust me,” he says. “I have nothing to worry about.”

Lan Wangji thinks his ears might burn off.

Thankfully, the chime echoes through the courtyard, and everyone lines up for morning exercises. Half an hour of calisthenics later, Lan Wangji feels a bit calmer. He’s still a little nervous; in the stark light of day, he’s not sure how to navigate whatever it is they started last night. Kissing Wei Wuxian in the shadow of dusk, backlit by the glow of a streetlamp, is starting to seem like a dissipating dream, but he can still feel the flicker of Wei Wuxian’s eyelashes against his cheeks.

In the change room, Lan Wangji steals a surreptitious glance at where Wei Wuxian is buttoning his shirt, watching his fingers work and remembering how they’d felt in his hair. Is this how it is going to be, he wonders? Reminiscing about furtive touches while staring longingly across the room? He certainly hopes not. At the same time, he’s at a loss as to how to proceed. He thinks of his apprehension in the courtyard, of his fear when he thought Wei Wuxian might actually hug him. It’s still an unsettling thought, and Lan Wangji can’t help but feel frustrated with himself.

Catching his eye, Wei Wuxian beckons him over. Lan Wangji slips on his blazer and goes to stand cautiously in front of him. Wei Wuxian smiles sweetly and proffers his tie.

“Please?”

Wordlessly, Lan Wangji takes the tie and slips it around Wei Wuxian’s neck. He lowers his gaze and concentrates on his own hands, deftly looping the fabric around itself to form a neat, tidy knot. He gives it a little tug, adjusting the tension so that it fits snugly under Wei Wuxian’s collar, and then he runs the tips of his fingers down the length of the tie, smoothing it flat against Wei Wuxian’s chest. When he looks up, Wei Wuxian is beaming at him, eyes dancing and lips slightly parted.

Lan Wangji desperately wants to kiss him again.

Nie Huaisang clears his throat, and Lan Wangji turns to regard him. His eyebrows are raised, and he is appraising the two of them with a curious look on his face. Jiang Cheng is mercifully distracted by searching for something in his bag, muttering curses as he upends its contents into his locker for easier sorting.  Suddenly self-conscious, Lan Wangji drops his hand and takes a step back.  Wei Wuxian simply continues to smile, zipping up his bag and shrugging into his blazer.

“Ready?” Nie Huaisang asks. Behind him, Jiang Cheng has given up and dumped everything back into his bag, still scowling.

“Ready!” Wei Wuxian answers. He steps forward and links arms with Lan Wangji, leading him out of the change room and into the hallway.

Lan Wangji lets himself be led.

---

Lan Wangji spends the first period watching Wei Wuxian yawn his way through Biology review, feeling somewhat concerned as Wei Wuxian’s head starts to droop while the teacher recites dry facts about cell reproduction. He thinks for sure Wei Wuxian is going to fall asleep in History again, but Wei Wuxian manages to stay awake by fidgeting with his pen and jigging his leg incessantly. Lan Wangji is suffering from a similar sense of restlessness, and he gives up trying to concentrate on anything but the way the sunlight through the window plays softly against the shadows under Wei Wuxian’s eyes.

Lunch rolls around, and Wei Wuxian fishes a pair of iced coffee cans out of his bag before they all head to the canteen. He slams back the contents of the first can as soon as they are seated, and Lan Wangji watches his throat work. He watches where Wei Wuxian’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down and tries not to imagine placing a kiss there.

“Will you slow down?” Jiang Cheng scolds. “You’re going to give yourself a heart attack.”

“Can’t,” says Wei Wuxian, shoveling a wad of fried rice into his mouth. “Gotta time this right. I need to hit my second wind in exactly one hour.”

“Have you ever considered a healthy sleep cycle as an alternative to these drastic measures?” Nie Huaisang wants to know.

“Occasionally,” Wei Wuxian replies, “in my moments of weakness. But seeing as how I royally fucked that up for myself last night, I just need to roll with it today. Here,” he says, rummaging around in his pocket and coming up with a USB data stick. He smacks it triumphantly on the table and slides it toward Lan Wangji. “The fruits of my labour,” he declares.

Lan Wangji just blinks at him.

“What,” Jiang Cheng growls, “is that?”

“Music,” Wei Wuxian proclaims. “A lot of it.”

Lan Wangji regards him with a questioning look. Belatedly, he remembers that Wei Wuxian had promised him a playlist.

“Music,” Jiang Cheng repeats. “Fucking music. Are you telling me you spent all night downloading more of your atrocious pop songs? Did I just lose hours of my precious sleep to your asinine K-pop obsession?”

“No K-pop,” Wei Wuxian states. “It’s all in English. And I’ll have you know there is some seriously well-curated contraband on that thing.” He turns to address Lan Wangji directly, eyes eager and sparkling. “My buddy in Hong Kong keeps me well stocked. Mo Xuanyu has access to everything, and he’s got pretty good taste. It’s a bit eclectic, but I really hope you like what’s there.”

Lan Wangji glances between the data stick and Wei Wuxian’s expectant face. He looks so tired, but also happy and hopeful. Lan Wangji wants to run his thumbs over the papery shadows under his eyes, wants to stroke his hair and let him fall asleep somewhere quiet and safe. He feels a protective swell of affection so strong he thinks he might drown in it.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lan Wangji catches Nie Huaisang assessing him with that same quizzical look. Feeling self-conscious all over again, Lan Wangji sweeps the data stick into his own pocket and tries to concentrate on eating his lunch. He wonders if he’ll recognize any of the music. He wonders if Wei Wuxian wants to listen to it with him, if Wei Wuxian would sing along, and if the sound of Wei Wuxian’s singing voice is as vibrant as his laughter. 

Across the table, Jiang Cheng is still complaining angrily. “Great. Just great. Not only do I have to put up with your air poisoning, you’re trying to corrupt him, too. As if a musical connoisseur like Lan Wangji wants anything to do with your noise pollution.”

Wei Wuxian simply regards him loftily and cracks open the second can of coffee.

Clearly annoyed at the lack of reaction, Jiang Cheng continues to gripe. “Seriously, you’re already a menace to everyone’s peace and quiet when you’re actually here. Foisting music off on everyone just means you’ve found a way to make noise when you’re not even present. Congratulations on figuring out how to torture everyone by proxy.”

Lan Wangji lowers his chopsticks to glare at Jiang Cheng, experiencing a spike of irritation. He kind of wants to punch him.

“You know,” says Nie Huaisang, attempting to cut through the tension, “I wouldn’t be opposed to a new song or two. Think I could get in on that?”

Wei Wuxian swallows an enormous swig of coffee. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Jiang Cheng thumps his fist on the table, annoyance morphing into disdain. “What, you too? You really want to damage your brain with his poor taste? Stop encouraging him!”

“Jiang Wanyin.” Lan Wangji says his name like a warning.

“Yes, all right,” Wei Wuxian waves away his brother’s mounting ire. “I’m a reprehensible philistine spreading tasteless mediocrity among the innocent masses and I need to be stopped. Dishonour on me, dishonour on my cow, etc.”

“You could at least have some more consideration for our shared space. I don’t need to keep suffering because of your shitty life choices,” Jiang Cheng spits.

“Oh come on,” exclaims Wei Wuxian, finally sounding a bit exasperated. “You usually sleep like the dead no matter what I’m watching, and I always use my headphones. You are especially ornery today,” he observes.

“And whose fault is that?” Jiang Cheng bites out. “You are the fucking worst.”

Lan Wangji is about to angrily object when Wei Wuxian abruptly pushes back from the table and stands up.

“Fine, fine,” he says. He drops his napkin on top of his half-eaten lunch and dusts his hands off as if to dismiss the entire exchange.  “I’ll go be the worst somewhere else. Lan Zhan, can I steal you for a second?”

Lan Wangji stands up and makes a move to clear his tray, but Wei Wuxian grabs his wrist and tugs him toward the exit.

“Clean that up for us, won’t you?” Wei Wuxian tosses over his shoulder, and then he is pulling Lan Wangji down the hallway, moving at a considerable clip.

Lan Wangji falls into step beside him, letting Wei Wuxian lead him past the empty classrooms and through the atrium before branching off into the library. Wei Wuxian manoeuvers around the study tables and heads between the shelves of books, striding through the aisles toward the back corner where the oldest reference texts are kept, stacked neatly into the confines of a few isolated alcoves.  

“Wei Ying, what—“

He never finishes his sentence, because Wei Wuxian turns so that his back hits the wall, yanking Lan Wangji forward until their chests collide. Wei Wuxian’s lips are warm and insistent, teasing Lan Wangji’s mouth open with very little resistance. Lan Wangji braces himself against the wall, hands on either side of Wei Wuxian’s head, and he presses himself firmly into the line of Wei Wuxian’s torso, trapping the other boy with his body.

Wei Wuxian’s hands are inside Lan Wangji’s blazer, snaking around his waist and running up his back, stroking down the length of his spine before coming to rest on Lan Wangji’s hips. He gives a little tug, rocking their hips together in a way that sends a shockwave through Lan Wangji’s body, eliciting a gasp.  Lan Wangji moves one hand to curl around the back of Wei Wuxian’s head, gripping him firmly, knuckles pressed back against the wall. He angles Wei Wuxian’s head and deepens the kiss, swallowing the soft noises Wei Wuxian can’t stifle and thrilling at how Wei Wuxian shudders into his mouth with every sweep of his tongue.

Using the hand still wrapped around the back of his head, Lan Wangji jerks Wei Wuxian forward, holding him just far enough away from the wall to slip his other arm around behind him. Wei Wuxian arches into him as Lan Wangji crushes their bodies together, their lips sliding apart as Wei Wuxian’s knees buckle and he slips down a few inches. His head falls back into Lan Wangji’s grip as Lan Wangji fists his fingers in Wei Wuxian’s hair, chasing after his mouth and recapturing Wei Wuxian’s lips in a rough, heated kiss. Wei Wuxian digs his fingers into Lan Wangji’s shoulders, desperate for purchase.

Lan Wangji is dimly aware that they are still at school, that this is the library, and that anyone could come around the corner and discover them. Summoning his last shred of self-control, he wrenches their mouths apart to gasp for air, but he cannot will himself to pull away. He holds Wei Wuxian tightly against himself, panting down into Wei Wuxian’s still-parted lips. Wei Wuxian clings to him, half supported by Lan Wangji’s arm around his waist, eyes screwed shut, his breath coming fast and ragged.

“Lan Zhan, please,” he gasps, eyes fluttering open. “Spare me, Er-gege.”

It takes a moment for Lan Wangji to find his voice. “You started it,” he rasps.

Wei Wuxian’s laugh is a shaky exhale. “Yeah,” he breathes. “I totally did.”

“Not sorry,” he adds after a moment.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, they move to untangle themselves. There’s an awkward moment of mutually averted eyes as they straighten their clothes and Wei Wuxian tidies his hair.  Lan Wangji watches him, embarrassed at his immediate urge to reach out and mess him up again.

“Well,” Wei Wuxian says, slightly sheepish. “Maybe I am a little sorry. I wasn’t really planning to just grab you like that. I guess I wasn’t planning at all. I just really needed to touch you,” he says wistfully. “Lan Zhan, are you okay?”

Lan Wangji blinks in surprise. “I should be asking you that.”

“Why?” Wei Wuxian asks, head tilted and eyes curious.

“You were upset,” Lan Wangji says. “At lunch,” he clarifies.

Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “I’m fine. I’m just tired, and I got a little fed up.”

“Jiang Wanyin is unkind to you,” Lan Wangji says.

Wei Wuxian shakes his head again. “He doesn’t mean it. Jiang Cheng is just… Jiang Cheng. He’s said worse things.”

“I don’t like it,” Lan Wangji insists. “It’s unnecessary.”

“Don’t be mad at him, okay?” Wei Wuxian’s tone is mollifying.  “He’s harmless, I promise. And anyway, I’m used to it.”

“You should not have to be used to such things,” Lan Wangji protests, feeling frustrated. Wei Wuxian is more concerned that Lan Wangji might be upset with his brother than he is about having abuse heaped on him. It stokes Lan Wangji’s protective impulse from earlier into something hot and fierce.   

“You’re so sweet,” Wei Wuxian whispers, his face melting into a misty smile. “You’re so nice to me. How come you’re so nice to me, Er-gege?”

“Because I like you,” Lan Wangji states. “I like you,” he repeats, voice a hoarse whisper.

“Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian’s eyes are two glistening crescents.

Lan Wangji reaches forward, intending to thumb at the wetness gathered at the corner of Wei Wuxian’s eye, when someone moves on the other side of the bookshelf. He startles and jerks away, retracting his hand and falling back a step. There is a moment of quiet shuffling and books being rearranged before the footsteps move away again.

Lan Wangji clenches his fists at his sides, willing himself to calm down, hating the way his heart is hammering anxiously and painfully against his ribcage.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian calls softly, face doleful and concerned. “Are you okay?” He takes a tentative step forward. “Is this really okay?” he whispers.

Lan Wangji swallows the sudden lump in his throat, at a loss for how to respond to Wei Wuxian’s plaintive tone.

“We don’t have to tell anyone.” Wei Wuxian’s words are so quiet, Lan Wangji almost misses them. “No one has to know. I can behave myself, I promise.”

It hits him like a lightning bolt, shock and regret stabbing through the fog of his indecision. “Wei Ying!”

Wei Wuxian stares at him with undisguised longing, eyes huge and pleading.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji repeats, calmer this time. He locks their eyes together and holds Wei Wuxian’s beseeching gaze, honest and resolved. “I am not ashamed of you.”

The look of awe, the wave of palpable relief that spreads across Wei Wuxian’s face, is enough to make Lan Wangji’s heart clench like a vice.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian’s voice is thick and wet. “Lan Zhan, I like you so much. So much, Lan Zhan, I just—“

Lan Wangji reaches out, determined this time, and pulls Wei Wuxian into an embrace.  He folds Wei Wuxian softly into his arms, and Wei Wuxian curls against him, burying his face into Lan Wangji’s neck. He runs his hand over Wei Wuxian’s back and up into Wei Wuxian’s hair, gentle this time, massaging Wei Wuxian’s scalp with tender fingers. He settles his other hand in the middle of Wei Wuxian’s back, pressing him forward and cradling him close. Wei Wuxian locks his hands together around Lan Wangji’s waist and leans heavily against his chest.

They stay wrapped up in each other for an exquisite stretch of unbroken minutes, breaths coming out even and synchronized. It’s another moment before Wei Wuxian breathes a heavy sigh into Lan Wangji’s neck, turning his face up to brush a kiss against Lan Wanji’s cheek before pulling back so he can look at him again.

“Lan Zhan, you really are amazing. How did I get so lucky?” He nuzzles forward, brushing their lips together in the hint of a breathy kiss. “But Lan Zhan,” he says seriously, “I know you’re a really private person. I love that about you. And I really, really don’t want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable.  I’d rather die than upset you even a little bit! So please, tell me if I cross a line.”

 Lan Wangji is touched, but he can’t help but feel a little amused.

“Haven’t you spent the better part of a year trying to get under my skin?” he asks archly.

“That’s different!” Wei Wuxian protests. “I just like to tease you. You’re so cute when you’re all riled up. But I wouldn’t want to make you uneasy for real. I don’t want that. I don’t want to hurt you, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji feels his expression softening into something impossibly fond. “Do not distress yourself about your behaviour. I do not want you to change, Wei Ying.”

“Oh, believe me,” Wei Wuxian gushes. “Nothing is ever going to stop me from whoring desperately for your undivided attention. I’m greedy like that.”

“You have it,” Lan Wangji says earnestly.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian wails, cheeks flushing. “My poor heart can’t take it when you’re being so sincere.”

Lan Wangji leans forward to kiss him again, lips gently probing, coaxing Wei Wuxian’s mouth open into something hot and wet. He knows that this is dangerous. He knows he can’t afford to linger too long in the throes of this burgeoning heat, but the need to convey his feelings is overpowering Lan Wangji’s sense of caution. He needs Wei Wuxian to know how desperately he is wanted.

“Okay,” Wei Wuxian breathes into his mouth. “Okay.” Another kiss. “I think,” a quick press of lips, “we need some ground rules,” he gasps.

 Lan Wangji regards him levelly. “Ground rules,” he echoes.

“Yes. Ground rules. Possibly a lot of them. You love rules, right?”

“Mn.” Lan Wangji can’t really deny that.

“Okay,” Wei Wuxian says again, still a little breathless. “I promise never to kiss you in public. And I won’t make a big sappy scene in front of other people, because you’d hate that, wouldn’t you? No tackle hugs. I know that possibility freaked you out this morning. No hugs at all, if people are watching. I won’t grab you underneath your jacket, but I reserve the right to hang around your shoulders because I do that already. Linking arms is okay, but I won’t force you to hold my hand.”

Lan Wangji frowns.

“I won’t touch your face, I won’t mess with your hair, and I definitely won’t play with the buttons on your shirt,” Wei Wuxian vows.

“This is all highly prohibitive,” Lan Wangji observes. “What of me? What am I not allowed to do?”

“Nothing,” Wei Wuxian says. “You’re perfect. You can do whatever you want.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangjji says, exasperated. “You’re not making any sense.”

“Lan Zhan, these rules are for me. I need them,” Wei Wuxian explains.  

“Why?”

“Because, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, deadly serious. “If you don’t put limits on me, I’ll take liberties. I’ll climb all over you. I’ll stick to you like melted candy. Lan Zhan, if you don’t stop me, I’m just going to crawl into your lap and stay there forever.”

Lan Wangji considers that possibility and thinks, distantly, that given the right circumstances, he might not mind at all.

“You may take liberties,” Lan Wangji says carefully. “Small ones,” he allows.

“Really? Like what?”

“You can hold my hand,” Lan Wangji offers quietly.

“Lan Zhan, really? You’d really let me do that? You’d let me lace our fingers together in front of the entire student body? Doesn’t that feel too intimate?”

It does feel intimate, Lan Wangji thinks. Shockingly so. If Lan Wangji is being honest with himself, he finds the thought vaguely terrifying.

He kind of wants to do it anyway.   

“I will allow it,” he promises.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian whines, dropping his forehead onto Lan Wangji’s shoulder. “I’ve changed my mind. One rule for you. You’re not allowed to give me a heart attack by being so romantic.”

Lan Wangji huffs out a breath. It’s almost a laugh.

“Mn,” is all he says.

Wei Wuxian yawns, sending a gust of warm air across Lan Wangji’s collarbones. “Fuck, I’m tired,” he sighs.

“We still have half an hour. You could nap,” Lan Wangji suggests. “I will wake you when it is time for class.”

“Mmm,” Wei Wuxian agrees, scrubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. “That sounds nice.”

They make their way out of the alcove and toward the area meant for private study. Wei Wuxian drops into a chair and scoots forward to pillow his head on his arms inside the cubicle, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. Lan Wangji settles into the desk beside him, repositioning his chair a little closer to the divider between them, inadvertently knocking their knees together in the process. Lan Wangji peers around the edge of the cubicle, studying the side of Wei Wuxian’s face, and then slowly, shyly, he reaches around the barrier to rest his hand between Wei Wuxian’s shoulder blades.

Wei Wuxian sighs happily, eyes still shut. “I adore you,” he breathes.

It’s not long before Wei Wuxian is asleep, breath smoothing out into a slow, steady rhythm. Lan Wangji closes his eyes and leans his forehead heavily against the side of his cubicle. His hand is on fire where it lies on Wei Wuxian’s back, and Lan Wangji feels flushed, feverish under the weight of his own emotions.  His pulse is throbbing, his heart a metronome, every nerve in his body aflame with what he feels for Wei Wuxian. It’s exhilarating. He’s elated.  

He is absolutely terrified.

Lan Wangji has never felt anything so agonizing, so thrilling, so completely vulnerable and raw. He feels exposed and defenseless. But then he thinks of Wei Wuxian, eyes pleading, desperate to be accepted while expecting shame and rejection. He thinks of the power he’d had to erase those doubts, how the right words had transformed a look of anguish into something sweet and hopeful.

He thinks of Wei Wuxian, soft and pliant in the circle of his arms, and Lan Wangji resolves to be brave.

When half an hour elapses, Lan Wangji begins to run his hand in a circle, increasing the pressure until Wei Wuxian stirs. He smooths his palm up Wei Wuxian’s spine and gently squeezes the nape of his neck.

“Wei Ying.” He strokes his thumb back and forth. “It’s time to go.”

Wei Wuxian lifts his head, still a bit groggy. “Okay,” he says. He rakes a hand through his hair and smiles. “Thanks for letting me sleep.”

“Of course,” Lan Wangji says.  “Do you feel any better?”

Wei Wuxian yawns and nods, stretching as he stands up. “Coffee should kick in soon, too. In five minutes, I’m going to be unstoppable.”

“I think you already are,” Lan Wangji says softly.

Wei Wuxian laughs, light and free.

“Come on, Lan Zhan.” He reaches out and hooks their pinky fingers together. “Let’s go.”

They’re not holding hands like this, not really; it’s just a tiny touch of fingers tethering them together as they walk down the hall, and Lan Wangji is okay with that.

Tomorrow, he thinks, perhaps he will be brave enough to hold Wei Wuxian’s hand for real.                        

---

The end of the week marks the end of regular classes, and final examinations arrive to take over the lives of a dizzy and exhausted student body. Hardworking students are scattered across the campus in various states of unrest, clustered together in determined study circles, or sprawled out in relief after completing one test or another. The weather is hot and balmy, and Lan Wangji finds himself outside, seated cross-legged in the shade of a tree at the side of the courtyard. Wei Wuxian is splayed out on the grass beside him. Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang loll about nearby, bone-weary but relaxed, savouring the break between exams.

“Thank God that’s over,” says Nie Huaisang. “I think the last week of evening Math Olympics really helped. I think I might actually pass.”

“That’s good,” Wei Wuxian says, voice lazy. “You worked really hard. We’re proud of you, Nie-xiong.”

“Don’t be patronising,” Jiang Cheng grouses. “Just because advanced calculus is your idea of fun doesn’t mean you should rub it in when the rest of us are suffering.”

“I’m not,” Wei Wuxian protests. “I’m being sincere. Nie-xiong, congratulations on surviving the Math exam that you are absolutely going to pass with flying colours.”

“Maybe not flying ones, but thank you anyway. I think I deserve some sort of award for not fainting in the hallway before it even started. It was a close call, you guys.” Nie Huaisang pulls out the hand-painted fan he’d completed in art class and waves it back and forth, sending a welcoming ripple of air across his face. “It’s sweltering in there.”

“No kidding,” Wei Wuxian agrees. “Do you think the lack of air conditioning is just a ploy to keep everyone on edge and as nervous as possible? Lan Zhan, what do you think? Is your academy trying to weed out the weakest gazelle babies with psychological warfare?”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji deadpans. “Congratulations. You survived. You are not a stupid gazelle.”

Wei Wuxian’s laugh is joyful and delighted. He rolls over onto his stomach and props himself up on his elbows, turning his face up to Lan Wangji and blinking large doe eyes at him. “But I’m a cute gazelle, right?”

“Debateable.”

Wei Wuxian just laughs again. He reaches out and rubs his front two knuckles back and forth across an inch of skin on Lan Wangji’s forearm. “That’s not a no,” he purrs. “I’ll take it.”

Nie Huaisang coughs and begins to fan himself a lot faster.

“One more day,” he says. “We get past History this afternoon and then it’s just one more day. Chinese and English back to back tomorrow is going to be the worst, but guys, we are almost free!”

“Almost,” sighs Jiang Cheng. “One more day before I have an eight hour train ride to look forward to.”

Wei Wuxian pulls himself into a sitting position and turns to face his brother. “Not right away,” he says quickly. “We still have a day in Gusu before we have to leave.” He shifts to address Lan Wangji. “I don’t go back to Yunmeng until the second morning after finals. We have a whole day,” he says hopefully.

“I know that,” says Jiang Cheng, annoyed at being corrected. “But it’s just an extra day to pack. Dad knows you need at least 24 hours to get your shit together, so of course we’re not leaving right away. What,” he says, starting to scowl, “don’t tell me you plan to waste time goofing off in Caiyi town instead?”

“If I do,” Wei Wuxian replies loftily, “you are not invited.”

Jiang Cheng snorts. “You think I want to suffer through an extra day of whatever insufferable thing you have planned in celebration? No thank you and good riddance.”

“A celebratory lunch wouldn’t be so bad after all we’ve been through,” Nie Huaisang muses. “But I have a feeling I’m not invited either,” he says slyly.

“Another time, Nie-xiong,” Wei Wuxian grins. “I’ll treat you when we’re back next fall.”

“Deal!” says Nie Huaisang. “I look forward to hearing about all the trouble you’re going to get into this summer.”

“No trouble!” Wei Wuxian vows. “I’m going to be on my best behaviour.”

Jiang Cheng lets out a bark of disbelieving laughter. “That’ll be the day.”

Nie Huaisang chuckles knowingly. “Afraid that if you misbehave they won’t let you come back in the fall?”

“Possibly,” Wei Wuxian admits. “Last summer I may have accidentally offended some VIP guests by letting their daughter use my cellphone to make a call to her overseas girlfriend. Her parents confiscated her own phone and blocked her room from making long-distance calls, and they took it personally because I basically helped her defy their authority.”

“Yikes,” Nie Huaisang winces. “I bet that was a fun confrontation.”

Wei Wuxian nods. “Auntie Yu was super embarrassed, and since she’s always looking for an excuse to keep me locked in the basement, I ended up grounded for two weeks. She said if I ever embarrassed the family like that again, she’d cut me off and kick me out.”

“She wouldn’t really,” Jiang Cheng says defensively. “Besides, she had a right to be upset. She’s the one who has to deal with irate guests, not you. It was your fault for sticking your nose into other people’s business. You never know when to leave well enough alone.”

“Her parents were bullies,” Wei Wuxian states. “She was a nice girl. I’m not sorry I helped her.”

“Of course you’re not,” Jiang Cheng grumbles. “You’re not even the one who has to pay the long-distance phone bill. Have a little more respect for my parents,” he snaps.

“I did pay for it! I gave back all of my allowance that month. And I have nothing but respect for your parents, you know that.” Wei Wuxian sounds a little hurt.

Lan Wangji glares daggers at Jiang Cheng. He definitely wants to punch him this time.

To his credit, Jiang Cheng looks a bit guilty at the obvious change in Wei Wuxian’s tone of voice. He shifts his eyes, unable to meet Lan Wangji’s glare. He fists a handful of grass and yanks, breaking off the slender stalks and tossing them roughly toward Wei Wuxian. Most of the little green cloud doesn’t make it across the space between them, but a few stray wisps settle around Wei Wuxian’s outstretched foot.

“If you’re really planning to stay out of the basement this year,” Jiang Cheng mutters, “you should worry less about other people’s lives. Worry about yourself so the rest of us don’t have to,” he adds.

“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian beams, all traces of hurt dispelled by Jiang Cheng’s begrudging concern. “I knew you missed me when I was grounded.”

“Who missed you?” Jiang Cheng huffs. “I’m telling you, just keep your heroic meddling to yourself this summer.”

“Well, I, for one, think it’s romantic you did that for a girl,” affirms Nie Huaisang. “And what can I say? I am a romantic at heart. I’m a sucker for acts of service.”

“Pretty sure my act of service was facilitating romance for someone else that time,” Wei Wuxian points out. “She called her girlfriend, remember.”

“Even better!” Nie Huaisang waggles his eyebrows. “Selfless acts of service in the name of romance are romantic for their own sake. No ulterior motives, right? Means you racked up some good romantic karma for yourself.”

After a pause, Nie Huaisang ducks a wily smile behind his fan and narrows his eyes shrewdly to glance at Lan Wangji. “Looks like it’s already on its way back to you.”

Lan Wangji averts his eyes, feeling the telltale flush of heat spreading over his ears as he becomes increasingly agitated. Being teased by Wei Wuxian is one thing; being teased knowingly by Nie Huaisang is entirely another. Lan Wangji is painfully aware that Nie Huaisang has been watching the two of them like a hawk for the last week, and he’s not exactly comfortable with it. Despite his determination to be brave about this, Lan Wangji still feels a bit untethered, like a ship lost in a storm.

His gaze settles on his hands clasped neatly in his lap. He looks at the way his own fingers are intertwined and feels a pang of frustration with himself. He still hasn’t mustered the courage to hold Wei Wuxian’s hand, and Wei Wuxian, ever conscious of Lan Wangji’s feelings, has graciously not been grabbing at him. Despite Lan Wangji having given him permission, Wei Wuxian seems to be set on following his lead, attuned to the nuances of Lan Wangji’s anxiety in a way that makes Lan Wangji feel achingly understood. At the same time, a part of Lan Wangji wishes that Wei Wuxian would simply take over and reach out to claim what he’d professed to want.

But Wei Wuxian defers to him, upholding his self-imposed ground rules, the picture of self-restraint. He hovers just out of reach and indulges himself with only the most fleeting touches, fingertips tracing a tantalizing promise down Lan Wangji’s arm, hinting at the possibility of more.

It’s beginning to drive Lan Wangji insane.  

The truth is, he wants this. He wants the touches. He wants the intimacy. He wants Wei Wuxian more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life.

Lan Wangi is still not sure how to have him. 

“You think so?” Wei Wuxian says playfully, picking up the thread of Nie Huaisang’s conversation. “You think I’ve earned myself a little romance?”

Nie Huaisang nods enthusiastically, eyes darting back and forth suggestively, but Jiang Cheng takes the opportunity to scoff in disdain.

“The only thing you’ve earned is a wide berth from all the people you shamelessly flirt with. You’d have to pay someone to put up with you for real.”

Wei Wuxian opens his mouth for a rebuttal, but Lan Wangji abruptly shoots to his feet, startling Wei Wuxian out of replying.  Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang are equally alarmed, regarding Lan Wangji with identical looks of surprise.

“I’m leaving,” Lan Wangji announces, having come to a decision. He looks down to where Wei Wuxian is regarding him with wide-eyed confusion and thrusts his hand out. “Get up. You’re coming with me.”

“Um, okay?” Wei Wuxian accepts the proffered hand and begins to struggle to his feet. “Where are we going?”

“The library,” Lan Wangji states, yanking Wei Wuxian into a standing position. “You will review your history notes. I will keep you company.” He levels an icy glare at Jiang Cheng. “For free.”

Lan Wangji can almost hear them gaping at him.

Still glaring at Jiang Cheng, Lan Wangji sets his jaw and shifts his grip on Wei Wuxian’s hand. It’s the work of a moment to twist his wrist and slide their palms together. He interlaces their fingers and gives Wei Wuxian’s hand a long, firm squeeze.

He hears Wei Wuxian inhale sharply, and he watches the look on Jiang Cheng’s face transform from confused surprise into pure, blatant shock.

“What.” Jiang Cheng blurts. “The fuck.”

Satisfied, Lan Wangji turns on his heel and stalks off, pulling a stunned Wei Wuxian along behind him. Blood begins to roar in his ears as he considers what he’s just done, but he pushes past the familiar twinge of self-consciousness and into the budding sensation of dizzy accomplishment he feels.

“Lan Zhan, wait!” Wei Wuxian stumbles behind him. “Lan Zhan!”

Lan Wangji ignores him and drags him into the library. Paying no heed to Wei Wuxian’s stuttered protests, Lan Wangji untangles their fingers and manhandles Wei Wuxian into a cubicle, pushing him securely into the chair with both hands on his shoulders. He quickly retrieves a copy of their History textbook from a nearby shelf and drops it unceremoniously in front of Wei Wuxian before taking a seat in the cubicle beside him.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian immediately slides back in his chair and leans around the barrier into Lan Wangji’s space. “Have you lost your mind? Are you seriously trying to make me study right now?”

Lan Wangji pushes him firmly back into his own cubicle. “Yes,” he says decisively. “Concentrate, Wei Ying.”

“Are you insane?” Wei Wuxian hisses. He jumps up and grabs the top edge of the barrier, glaring down onto Lan Wangji’s side. “You want me to concentrate? On History? Right now?”

“Shhh!” the librarian admonishes in passing.

Lan Wangji reaches around and yanks Wei Wuxian down into his chair by the back of his shirt. “Quiet,” he says. “Do not disturb the other students.”

Wei Wuxian makes a strangled noise of frustration, scooting aside to circumvent the divider again. “How can you expect me to concentrate on a fucking History textbook when you just—when you just! Lan Zhan, you are killing me!”

Lan Wangji manoeuvres him back to his own side again, applying pressure to the back of his chair in order to keep him there.

“You’re fine,” Lan Wangji assures him. “Now study.”

“Lan Zhan. I am not fine. I am the farthest from fine I have ever been. I am going to start screaming. I’m going to be sick. I’m going to faint.”

“You are being dramatic.”

“Lan Zhan, I am so in love with you I think I’m going to die from it!”

All of the air in Lan Wangji’s lungs leaves his body as if he’s been punched.

“Please don’t,” he murmurs, an honest entreaty. “I would miss you too much.”

Wei Wuxian whimpers. “Lan Zhan, you’re breaking the rules. You’re not allowed to give me a heart attack, remember?”

Lan Wangji removes his hand from the back of Wei Wuxian’s chair and slides it under the table. He finds where Wei Wuxian’s hand is clenched against his thigh and carefully envelops Wei Wuxian’s fist with his fingers. He squeezes gently until Wei Wuxian’s hand relaxes and uncurls a little, just enough for Lan Wangji to twine their fingers together again. Wei Wuxian deflates with a longsuffering sigh, and Lan Wangji hears him drop his head against the desk.

“You’re impossible,” Wei Wuxian whispers.

“Mn,” Lan Wangji says.

Neither of them gets any studying done.

Chapter Text

It is mid-afternoon in Caiyi town, and Lan Wangi sits across from Wei Wuxian in a small, French-style café. They are seated in a bright, sunlit corner by the window at what their server had insisted was the best table in the house. Lan Wangji isn’t sure what makes it any different from the other identical tables around them, but Wei Wuxian had smiled his dazzling smile and thanked her profusely.

“Best possible place for people watching,” Wei Wuxian explains. “From the inside and the outside.” He winks at Lan Wangji. “It means we’re a good looking couple.”

Lan Wangji feels the familiar flush of heat across his ears. He hums noncommittally and focuses on scanning the menu.

Wei Wuxian props his chin in his hand, tilting his head to smile fondly at Lan Wangji. “Er-gege, don’t you think so? Don’t you think we make a handsome couple?” He nudges Lan Wangji with his foot. “You know you’re beautiful, right?”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji warns.

“What? Can’t I say it? It’s the truth, and if I didn’t say so, I’d be lying. I know how much you hate lying,” Wei Wuxian teases.

There’s a pause as the server drops off their drinks and takes their food orders. Wei Wuxian takes a moment to stir a packet of raw sugar into his café crème, and Lan Wangji watches the pink of his tongue as it darts out to delicately lick the foam off the spoon. He takes a sip of his tea and continues to watch as Wei Wuxian raises his cup to his lips, looking happy and satisfied. Wei Wuxian is leaving tomorrow, and Lan Wangji is wistfully aware that they don’t have much time left, but Wei Wuxian radiates contentment, and so Lan Wangji savours this moment, awash in the pleasure of his company.

Wei Wuxian looks up from his coffee and smiles impishly. “Why are you staring at me like that? Am I pretty?”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji avers. “Very.”

Wei Wuxian laughs, smile spreading out sweetly. “Lan Zhan, you’re so serious! Not fair, agreeing with me so easily like that after you won’t let me call you beautiful.”

“If I didn’t agree, I’d be lying,” Lan Wangji smoothly parrots Wei Wuxian’s words back at him.

Wei Wuxian shakes his head, laughing again. “Well, thank you for the compliment, then. I'm happy you think so.”

Lan Wangji studies him, taking in the play of sunlight reflected in those wide, sparkling eyes. He can’t imagine that anyone in their right mind would consider Wei Wuxian anything but stunning.  

“You are very attractive, Wei Ying.” He says it seriously, without any embarrassment.

Wei Wuxian grins, flushed with happiness. “I certainly hope so, especially to you. Thank goodness I clean up okay, right? I’d better make an effort, or people are going to wonder how a gremlin like me ended up with a god like you.”

“Why do you do that?” Lan Wangji frowns.

“Do what?”

“Put yourself beneath other people.” Beneath me, Lan Wangji thinks.

Wei Wuxian waves a hand carelessly. “Don’t worry, I’m hardly lacking in confidence. I know what I look like. You’re just incomparably gorgeous. And if anything, I know I can be a little arrogant, so maybe I’m just trying to keep myself in check.”

“You are not a gremlin,” Lan Wangji insists.

“I’m a little bit of a gremlin,” Wei Wuxian quips. He leans forward and extends his hand along the table, palm facing upward. “But as long as I’m your gremlin, that’s fine with me,” he says quietly. “I still can’t believe how lucky I am. I sincerely hope you mean to keep me.”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji replies immediately. “I do.” He reaches out to lay his hand on top of Wei Wuxian’s open palm, letting their fingers curl around each other’s wrists. He wonders if it’s too early to say he wants to keep Wei Wuxian forever. He can only hope that Wei Wuxian will let him.

Wei Wuxian squeezes his hand and glows with happiness. It’s easier like this, Lan Wangji thinks, when it is just the two of them, to let Wei Wuxian’s generous, open affection wash over him and not feel like he’s unmoored and adrift. The bustle of the café around them is almost like camouflage, cloaking the two of them behind a curtain of cheerful, ambient noises. No one here knows them, and the other couples in the café have their heads bent together, speaking in hushed tones, happy in the oblivion that comes with holding the undivided attention of a partner.

Lan Wangji is no stranger to the joy of being anonymous, preferring as he does to be left alone when in public. Large crowds will forever unnerve him, but even the stress of being pressed too close amidst a sea of strangers is eased just slightly by the knowledge that no one actually knows him. Being observed in passing on a busy street is different than it is at school, where Lan Wangji finds himself under constant surveillance. Teachers and students alike seem to track his movements, scrutinizing every step, and Lan Wangji conducts himself accordingly, remaining aloof and inscrutable, ever conscious of being watched. He’s learned to ignore the furtive whispers, the looks of admiration and envy. Before this year, no one had dared to approach him for longer than it took to dismiss them with an icy stare.

But now, he sits across from Wei Wuxian and his radiant smile, enjoying this new sense of shared anonymity, of mutual confidence, the two of them kept secret together from the rest of the world. Lan Wangji finds himself overcome by a wave of gratitude for Wei Wuxian’s persistence, for his steadfast determination to be a part of Lan Wangji’s life, however much Lan Wangji had shied away from him at first. Wei Wuxian had persevered where no one else had even tried, drawing out the parts of Lan Wangji that he’d kept hidden and neglected for fear of being seen. He’s used to being stared at without ever being known, but Wei Wuxian sees him clearly; he’s penetrated all of Lan Wangji’s defenses by being brave, and patient, and above all, empathetic. Wei Wuxian never asked Lan Wangji to change. He only ever asked to be admitted, and now he wants the right to stay.

Lan Wangji will gladly grant him that. He’ll grant him so much more, if he asks.

Wei Wuxian rubs his thumb across Lan Wangji’s wrist. “What are you thinking, Lan Zhan?”

“I am thinking that I am the lucky one,” Lan Wangji says softly.

Wei Wuxian gives his hand another squeeze, and then he leans back to allow the server to deliver their food. Lan Wangji lets his hand go as he draws back, missing the contact immediately, but content at knowing that if he wants it back, all he has to do is reach out and ask for it.

Wei Wuxian picks up his fork and digs into his quiche, looking pleased with his first bite. “It’s good!” he declares. “Lan Zhan, you should try some. It’s just spinach, so it’s safe.”

Lan Wangji obligingly forks off a piece near the edge of the crust, touched by how Wei Wuxian continues to forgo ordering meat dishes whenever they eat together. He makes sure to pick out the choicest pieces of tuna from his Nicoise salad and place them onto Wei Wuxian’s plate.

“This is so good, and I’m so hungry,” Wei Wuxian sighs happily, swallowing another mouthful. “I confess, I woke up late again and I had to scramble to pack, so I missed breakfast. Totally worth it, though. I got everything done, and now I can spend the rest of the day with you.”

Lan Wangji passes him another piece of tuna. “You are fully prepared for tomorrow, then?”

Wei Wuxian nods, shoveling the fish into his mouth and chasing it with a sip of water. “Dorm room is clean, everything’s packed and ready to go. Jiang Cheng doesn’t trust me with the tickets, so he’s printed them out and taken care of all that. I just have to show up.” He picks at the leafy greens of his side salad. “You really don’t think you can come visit me this summer?”

“No,” Lan Wangji says, genuinely sorry. “Uncle has already paid for a full schedule of private tutoring in July. He took extra pains to engage a guqin teacher who has previously been unavailable to me.”

“What about August?” Wei Wuxian asks, still hopeful.

Lan Wangji shakes his head regretfully. “Uncle is taking me to Korea for three weeks. He has business there, and he wishes for me to accompany him. There are members of the family working there, and we’ll need to pay our respects.”    

“Expanding the empire, are we? Doesn’t Gusu Academy already have a sister campus in London?”

“It does,” Lan Wangji says. “Uncle will be discussing the feasibility of a partnership with a private school in Seoul.”

“Seoul could be fun for you,” Wei Wuxian muses. “Unless you have to spend all your time touring a string of hagwon with your uncle, or something.”

“Outside of family commitments, I will have free time.  Uncle may wish to introduce me to some of his international associates, but there is no need for me to attend official business meetings.”

Wei Wuxian leans back in his chair and lets out a sigh. “They sure do start you Lans early, don’t they?” He gives Lan Wangji a considering look. “When are you back in Gusu?”

“We return a week before classes start.”

“And does your uncle have you locked down with more tutors?”

“Not entirely,” Lan Wangji says. “My evenings will be free.”

Wei Wuxian purses his lips and pokes absently at his salad again. He looks a little worried.

Lan Wangji seeks to reassure him. “The days will be mostly musical instruction. It is not a hardship for me, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian looks up at him, eyes gone curious. “Lan Zhan, I’ve been wondering. How come you never compete? I’ve been waiting all year for a chance to storm one of your recitals, but you never seem to perform anywhere. I’m assuming a prodigy like you has already graduated every possible level, so there’s no need to evaluate you anymore, but what about all the contests? There’s plenty of local ones. There was even that international piano competition that came to Gusu last spring, but you weren’t listed on the program anywhere.”

Lan Wangji blinks at him. “You checked?”

“Of course I checked! I’ve been dying to hear you play for months. I figured if I was never going to get a private invitation, I might as well stalk you for public opportunities.” Wei Wuxian leans forward again, propping his elbows on the table. “Do you not like to perform in public? Is it scary?”

“No, it never bothered me. The audience is incidental. The music is all that matters.”

“Then how come?” Wei Wuxian presses.

“I retired from competition this year in order to focus on my studies. I won’t be continuing with a performance career, so the competitions are unnecessary distractions. Uncle has made it clear where my focus should be.”

Wei Wuxian gapes at him. “Your uncle doesn’t want you to compete? Something so stuffy and prestigious—and he doesn’t want you doing it? But you spend so much time practicing, and you have all those private tutors! Why on earth would you go to such lengths if you’re not going to continue?”

“Music trains the body and the mind. It heightens concentration and is good for discipline. Continuing to practice keeps me focused.” He pauses, considering his next words. “And it keeps me at peace. I am happiest when I can play.”

“Then Lan Zhan, that’s all the more reason you should continue!” Wei Wuxian exclaims. “Seriously. Lan Zhan, I’ve never heard you say that anything makes you happy.”

“You make me happy,” Lan Wangji offers.

“Lan Zhan! No fair!” Wei Wuxian flushes. “Don’t you dare try to change the subject by being romantic! I’m being serious. Why should your primary focus be anywhere but music if that’s what makes you happy?”

“I am expected to assist in the success and the growth of my family’s academy. That path does not include a future in music.”

“That is ridiculous,” Wei Wuxian contends. “Isn’t your brother already pursuing some form of higher education in academic administration? He’s the oldest son. Why can’t he just take over for your uncle, instead?”

“There is more than one branch to take care of,” Lan Wangji explains. “Brother will have an international career. His skill for diplomacy will better serve the academy abroad. My Uncle intends for me to take over here in China, eventually.”

“But he’s got like 30 years left in his own career. He can’t need you right away,” Wei Wuxian argues. “And you don’t need to specialise in something so boring for undergrad. You can still do a music degree before you have to settle down and do a master’s in educational administration, or whatever.”

“I am expected to join the faculty before I assume a position on the board. I will need to focus on education.”

“So teach music!” Wei Wuxian cries. “Couldn’t the academy develop an orchestra program? That sounds like facilitating success and growth to me.”

Lan Wangji regards him curiously. “Why are you so adamant about this?”

“Because you’re too talented to waste away pushing paper for the rest of your life,” Wei Wuxian declares.

“You’ve never even heard me play,” Lan Wangji points out.

Wei Wuxian makes a small noise of frustration. “Not in person, maybe, but don’t think I didn’t internet stalk you and dig up some old competition videos. Some of them were really old. You were the tiniest, most adorable, serious-faced little musician I have ever seen. But I also found one from last year, and Lan Zhan, you are incredible.”

Lan Wangji holds his gaze, captivated by the fire he sees there. Wei Wuxian stares at him, unwavering, his body vibrating with heightened tension. Lan Wangji wants to soothe him, but he’s not sure how.

“Would you like me to play for you?” he tries.

Wei Wuxian lets out a long, noisy sigh. “Yes. Of course I want you to play for me. I’d love that, Lan Zhan.”

“You seem upset,” Lan Wangji probes.

Wei Wuxian scrubs at the back of his head, looking a touch remorseful. “I’m not upset. Not exactly. I just… Lan Zhan. You’re really amazing. You have a real gift. And you say it makes you happy.”

Lan Wangji nods. He watches Wei Wuxian worry his bottom lip between his teeth and waits for him to continue.

“Lan Zhan, have you ever thought about what your life is going to be like running the academy? Like, really thought about it? About how much of your time is going to be spent behind a desk in an office? Or what about having to network with all those self-important rich people looking to give their kids a leg up by any means possible? What if they try to bribe you? Imagine how much you’ll have to play politics.”

Lan Wangji is taken aback. “I would not be susceptible to bribes. Uncle is certainly not.”

“Of course not, but then you’d have to be really tactful in refusing them, otherwise there’ll be social fallout. How much time do you think your uncle spends circumventing that kind of behaviour?”

Lan Wangji has honestly never considered it.  Gusu Academy’s reputation is spotless. Tuition costs are prohibitive, making it difficult for less fortunate applicants, but the entrance exams are notoriously difficult regardless, and they are famous for accepting people based on merit alone. The idea that his uncle would have to devote an extensive amount of time to defend that image outside of upholding their scrupulous admission standards has never occurred to him, and Lan Wangji feels a bit naive.  

“And what about recruitment?” Wei Wuxian presses on. “What about expansion? Will you have to travel a lot and learn to speak even more languages? Will you have to chair endless meetings and mediate board squabbles? That’s a lot of talking and a lot of time spent being ‘on’ for other people.”

“All of that is possible,” Lan Wangji says carefully. “But it is to be expected. I know my Uncle does not have an easy job. All the more reason that Brother and I be ready to support him.”

“But does it suit you? Is it something you actually want to do?” Wei Wuxian leans forward again, relentless. “Lan Zhan, how much free time does your uncle actually have? Does he even have any? What if, after you graduate, they slap you with so many responsibilities you don’t have any time left to play? What would you do?”

“I would make time,” Lan Wangji says decisively.

“But imagine if you didn’t have to,” Wei Wuxian insists. “Imagine if music is just what you did, all the time, or at least most of the time. Wouldn’t that be ideal?”

Lan Wangji regards him silently. He’s not sure what to say to that. His whole life, he has been groomed to step into a leadership role at the academy. Even now, he is being actively prepared for it, and Lan Wangji has never questioned the expectation that he must continue on the path that has been set for him.

Pursuing music has never been an option. It has barely even been an idea. Lan Wangji can’t remember if there was ever a time he had believed, even fleetingly, that it was a possibility. He starts to frown as he thinks about it. He realises with a sudden pang that once, a long time ago, he may have dreamed about it. That once, from within the safety of his mother’s arms, with the warm weight of her hands resting on top of his own, he had dreamed of performing as she had. He had been suffused with joy, and he had wanted nothing else.

The memory hits him like a tsunami, and suddenly, Lan Wangjji is blinking back tears.

Wei Wuxian is instantly concerned, reaching out to grab hold of Lan Wangji’s hands where they are resting on the table. “Lan Zhan, oh no, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, whatever I said—I’m an idiot, I’m so stupid, I’ll stop, I promise.” He strokes his hands up and down Lan Wangji’s forearms. “Lan Zhan, please don’t cry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Lan Wangji chokes back a harsh breath, eyes on the table, shocked and horrified at himself. It takes a moment to regain control. He tamps down violently on the traitorous upwelling of emotion and forces his breathing back to normal, exhaling slowly until his heart unclenches. What follows is a deep flush of shame as Lan Wangji berates himself for what he can only believe is weakness. Where had it come from?

When he looks up, Wei Wuxian is watching him with soft, shining eyes. There is contrition there, but even more so, there is a look so openly affectionate and loving that Lan Wangji has to steady himself all over again.  

“Oh, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian breathes. He draws soothing circles over Lan Wangji’s wrists with his thumbs. “My Lan Zhan. I’m so sorry. Forgive me for being so thoughtless?”

Lan Wangji swallows thickly. “You did nothing wrong.”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head gently. “Not on purpose, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.” He sighs regretfully. “I can be really careless sometimes, just saying whatever I feel like. I know you’re really sensitive. I should have been more careful.”

Lan Wangji stiffens at that, still embarrassed by his loss of control. He resents the idea that he must be handled delicately. Wei Wuxian notices immediately, squeezing his hands in reassurance.

“It’s not a bad thing, Lan Zhan. Having strong feelings doesn’t make you weak, or a burden. I know you’re reserved, but anyone who thinks you’re cold is an idiot, because it’s just not true. You feel things so deeply, and I love that about you. I’ve never met anyone with a greater capacity for feeling than you.”

Lan Wangji says nothing, feeling fragile and hating it. It’s true that people believe him to be cold. Lan Wangji has deliberately played into that image for most of his life, leveraging it to keep people away, and most people he meets are easily put off by his intensity. Lan Wangji is a deeply serious person, and he finds it difficult not to reject people he cannot take seriously, so he is mostly content to just let people shy away. But a small, hidden part of him that he can never completely repress is hurt by the assumption that nothing affects him, that he is devoid of any proper feelings.

It’s like Wei Wuxian can see that hurt as clearly as if it were an open wound.

Lan Wangji aches with vulnerability. Wei Wuxian has the power to rip him wide open. If he wanted to, Wei Wuxian could tear Lan Wangji to shreds with just a look.

“I’m going to make you a promise,” Wei Wuxian says. “I can’t guarantee I won’t fuck up again, because we’ve already established that I am a careless idiot. But I promise to always, always respect what you’re feeling. Especially if I caused it. So please. Don’t hide it from me, and I’ll do my best to clean up my mess.”

“You didn’t,” Lan Wangji protests. “It’s my own fault. I don’t know what came over me.”

Wei Wuxian’s face is full of compassion. “Then at the very least, please don’t be ashamed of it. Okay?”

Lan Wangji sighs and closes his eyes, aching all over again. How does he do that? How does he know?

When he opens his eyes, Wei Wuxian is still contemplating him with a look of tender understanding, and Lan Wangji feels a resurgence of his gratitude from earlier. Wei Wuxian is still being brave, still being patient, and now he is promising to honour Lan Wangji’s feelings. Lan Wangji is resolved to offer him something in return.  

“Wei Ying,” he starts. “Thank you. I will try.”

He turns his hands within Wei Wuxian’s grip so that their palms are lying together, fingers curling around to hold each other.

“And I promise,” Lan Wangji continues, “that I will always trust you. I trust you, Wei Ying.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian whispers, eyes going infinitely soft. “I’m going to love you so well.”

“Mark your words,” Lan Wangji whispers back.

---

Lan Wangji pays the bill, despite Wei Wuxian’s initial protest.

“I was the one who asked you out today,” Wei Wuxian objects. “I should be the one to pay.”

“No need,” says Lan Wangji, smoothly handing over his card. He has a strong desire to take over this aspect of their relationship. He’s never been as good with words, so he wants every opportunity to take action, instead. He wants to care for Wei Wuxian in tangible ways that will be clearly understood, and spoiling him seems like an obvious option.

They spend the afternoon wandering by the lake, eventually taking a boat tour of the harbour. Lan Wangji buys a basket of loquats, and Wei Wuxian eats most of them, chattering happily about the sights with their boat guide when Lan Wangji prefers to sit silently. Wei Wuxian trades Yunmeng slang for tips on the Gusu dialect, and Lan Wangji listens contentedly as Wei Wuxian speaks with the soft syllables of his childhood memories.

Dinner is a sampling of street vendor foods from the early offerings of what will become a bustling night market. The sun is just beginning to set, and soon the strings of lights will be lit, cooking fires will flare, and the crowds will double, but Lan Wangji has a nine o’clock curfew, and they regretfully turn back with an hour to spare, giving them plenty of time to meander back to the dorms from the train station.

“I should have walked you home instead,” Wei Wuxian says ruefully as they arrive in the courtyard outside the main entrance to the dorms. “Then I could have kept you right up ‘til nine and just walked myself back to my room afterward. Rookie mistake! I guess we’ll know for next time, right?”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji agrees, warmed by the thought that there will be a next time.

“You still have a few minutes, right? I’d invite you in, but, well. Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says sheepishly.

Lan Wangji huffs out his opinion on that. He definitely does not want to see Jiang Cheng. He takes Wei Wuxian by the hand and leads him to the side of the courtyard, away from the entrance and tucked out of the way from the main path. They are mostly hidden here, under the nighttime shadows of the trees, and Lan Wangji turns to face Wei Wuxian as the other boy steps closer.

“Today was really great,” Wei Wuxian says, reaching out to collect Lan Wangji’s other hand and giving both sets of fingers a squeeze. “Thanks for keeping me company. Can I apologize one more time for being so belligerent at lunch?”

“No need,” Lan Wangji assures him sincerely. “Do not worry about it. I am no longer troubled.” If anything, he is feeling more comfortable and settled after their final exchange. There’s a budding sense of conviction taking root in his heart that he is determined to nurture.

“You’re so good,” Wei Wuxian sighs. “So really, truly good. I know I can get carried away sometimes. The next time I forget that not everyone is as eager to be a disruptive and unrestrained wild card like me, you should just smack me.”

“I will not,” Lan Wangji frowns. “I’m not even sure what you mean.”

Wei Wuxian shrugs. “Not much to explain, really. I just mean that I’m selfish. I do whatever I want. I’m reckless and shameless because why not? I can afford to be.”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji stares at him in disbelief. He cannot reconcile that statement with the endless care and consideration Wei Wuxian has shown him over the last year, let alone the kindness and the compassion with which Wei Wuxian had treated him today. “You are the least selfish person I know.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian shakes his head gently.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says again. “I do not know what you mean.”

Wei Wuxian regards him solemnly before he speaks.

“I’m a nobody, Lan Zhan.” He raises his hand to forestall Lan Wangji’s immediate protest. “I’m not even legally adopted. Uncle Jiang is my legal guardian, but as soon as I turn 18, he has no obligation to keep supporting me. He says he will, and I trust him to do so, but I’m not the one who’s going to inherit the resort, and I’m definitely not the one responsible for keeping the family legacy alive. I don’t have to do any of that, and no one expects me to. No one expects me to do anything at all.”

“That cannot be true.” Lan Wangji is almost angry. Wei Wuxian has spoken of himself disparagingly before, and Lan Wangji did not appreciate it then. He appreciates it even less now. “Why send you here, if not to encourage your success?”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t succeed, just that no one expects me to. The Jiangs are very generous. They want me to do well, and I intend to pay them back, with interest. But Lan Zhan, don’t you get it? If I never amount to anything, who do I disgrace? No one, not even the Jiangs. They still get points for taking in a charity case, even if I end up a total disaster.”

“Wei Ying. Stop this.”

“Lan Zhan, listen. It means I’m lucky. I don’t have to face the same pressure that you do. That Jiang Cheng does. If I wanted to, I could walk away from everything and no one would miss me. It might even make people happy. The Jiangs have relatives who think I’m angling to steal Jiang Cheng’s inheritance. I’ve been called a parasite and a leech.”

“Ridiculous!” Lan Wangji is incensed. “Wei Ying, you cannot possibly believe such things.”

“I believe,” Wei Wuxian says firmly, “that I will be the master of my own destiny. I’m grateful for what I have because I know exactly how little I could have ended up with.  I’m going to use every advantage I’ve ever been given to succeed on my own terms. Uncle Jiang has given me the opportunity of a lifetime, and I’m going to prove that I was worth it.”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji’s anger is subsumed by an excruciating rush of protective affection. “Of course you are worth it.”

“I’m trying to be.” Wei Wuxian’s voice grows quiet. “I still have a lot of work to do.”

“You have nothing to prove. Not to me,” Lan Wangji avows. “Never to me.”

Wei Wuxian looks at him with the same longing, the same disbelieving awe that Lan Wangji remembers from the last time he’d tried to convey just how much he cares for Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji feels a wave of sympathy for Wei Wuxian’s doubt. Despite Wei Wuxian’s confidence, despite his bravery and his persistence, Lan Wangji realises that Wei Wuxian doesn’t believe he truly deserves the love that he craves. Lan Wangji wants to tear that doubt to shreds, to erase it forever from Wei Wuxian’s mind.

Lan Wangji is not good with words. He will simply have to show him.

He steps forward and takes Wei Wuxian by the shoulders, pushing him backwards into the trunk of the tree whose shadows are cloaking them from view.  He crowds into Wei Wuxian’s space, holding his body just an inch away and keeping their eyes locked together. Wei Wuxian’s breath catches in his throat as Lan Wangji drags his hands up the sides of his neck until he is cradling Wei Wuxian’s face.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes are wide and pleading as his hands come up to encircle both of Lan Wangji’s wrists. Lan Wangji holds him steady and leans in even closer, still not breaking eye contact as Wei Wuxian’s breath begins to quicken and shudder. Lan Wangji breathes him in, inhaling deeply as Wei Wuxian’s eyelids begin to flutter, then exhaling warmly across Wei Wuxian’s slightly parted lips.

Lan Wangji continues to hover until Wei Wuxian is trembling, helpless with anticipation.  Lan Wangji presses himself forward that last agonizing inch, letting their bodies come together but keeping their lips apart, and Wei Wuxian almost whimpers, straining against where Lan Wangji’s hands are holding his face still.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian’s breath is ragged. “Lan Zhan, please…”

Lan Wangji responds by tipping Wei Wuxian’s head back, letting his lips brush against Wei Wuxian’s chin, not yet granting him a kiss. He pushes Wei Wuxian more firmly against the tree with his body, pinning him roughly where their hips connect, and Wei Wuxian gasps, his chest heaving against Lan Wangji’s torso.

Lan Wangji mouths at the underside of Wei Wuxian’s jaw, letting his tongue dart out to taste the skin there. Wei Wuxian stutters and gasps, his shaking hands falling away from Lan Wangji’s wrists to find purchase in the fabric of Lan Wangji’s shirt.  Lan Wangji slides his own hands further back, fisting his fingers in Wei Wuxian’s hair and jerking Wei Wuxian’s head back, exposing the full line of his throat. He lowers his head and trails a searing line of open-mouthed kisses up the front of Wei Wuxian’s neck, nipping at Wei Wuxian’s chin before dragging his mouth up along Wei Wuxian’s jawline, letting his teeth scrape the skin.

He stops just under Wei Wuxian’s ear, sealing his mouth over the junction where Wei Wuxian’s jaw meets his throat and sucking hard. Wei Wuxian chokes back a breathless exclamation, and Lan Wangji sucks harder, swirling his tongue over Wei Wuxian’s skin. One of Wei Wuxian’s hands flies to the back of Lan Wangji’s head, fingers flexing indecisively, as if unsure whether he wants to press Lan Wangji closer or pull him away.  Lan Wangji makes the decision for him, sliding down an inch and refastening his mouth firmly to the flesh of Wei Wuxian’s neck. Wei Wuxian stifles another whimper, and suddenly, Lan Wangji wants to hear him.

Lan Wangji tightens his grip in Wei Wuxian’s hair and sinks his teeth into Wei Wuxian’s neck. The sharp, startled cry he gets in response is exactly what he needs. He gives one final lick to soothe the sting of his teeth and then wrenches his head away. He finds Wei Wuxian’s gasping mouth and finally, finally seals their lips together.

The kiss is bruising, hot and wet. Lan Wangji drives his tongue into Wei Wuxian’s mouth, thrilled at the noises Wei Wuxian is no longer capable of stifling. Wei Wuxian moans under his onslaught, and Lan Wangji greedily pushes him for more. He pushes him until Wei Wuxian is a shuddering mess, until he can feel Wei Wuxian going almost slack against him, kissed into oblivion.

Only then does Lan Wangji slow his pace, gradually decreasing the force with which he’s plundering Wei Wuxian’s mouth. He pulls them back into something slow and languid, releasing his death grip on Wei Wuxian’s hair, relaxing his fingers to cradle Wei Wuxian’s head in both his hands and angling him gently, letting their mouths slide more softly together.

Eventually, Lan Wangji draws back into short, soft kisses, letting their lips separate by just a breath before nudging back into contact each time. He holds Wei Wuxian’s face in his hands and presses a kiss to each of Wei Wuxian’s closed eyelids. He strokes his thumbs across Wei Wuxian’s cheeks and leaves a lingering kiss at Wei Wuxian’s temple.   

“Do you understand?” Lan Wangji says, voice pitched low, lips hovering next to Wei Wuxian’s ear. “Do you understand what you are worth to me?”

“Er-gege,” Wei Wuxian chokes out. His voice is a wet, broken thing. “Lan Zhan...”

Lan Wangji kisses his forehead and pulls Wei Wuxian away from the tree, settling him fully against his chest. Wei Wuxian is boneless in his arms.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian tries again, voice steadier this time. “Lan Zhan, what am I going to do? I’m going to miss you so much.”

“Mn.” Lan Wangji strokes his hands over Wei Wuxian’s back. He’s going to miss him, too.

Wei Wuxian pulls back to look at him, eyes raw. “Lan Zhan, can I be greedy?”

Lan Wangji tilts his head in question.

“Will you come see me off tomorrow? I know I’ve had you all day, and I know it will be early, but Lan Zhan, I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.”

“What time?” Lan Wangji asks immediately.

“My train leaves at 8:00am.”

Lan Wangji nods. “I will be there.”

“Lan Zhan, thank you,” Wei Wuxian smiles shakily, looking relieved. “I’m sorry for being needy.”

“I do not think you are needy, Wei Ying.”

“Okay,” Wei Wuxian sniffs and steps away. “You’d better go. You’re going to be late.”

Lan Wangji hesitates, gripped by sudden worry. Wei Wuxian looks wrung out, lips swollen and eyes wet. He looks like he might cry.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji reaches out for him again, tentatively gripping him by his upper arms. “Are you—Did I—?” He stumbles over his words and swallows back the terrified remorse rising in his throat.

“Did I go too far?” He whispers, searching Wei Wuxian’s face. “Was I too much?”

“Oh, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian breathes, face collapsing into a desperate look of yearning. He surges forward and grabs Lan Wangji’s face between his hands, crushing their lips together in a rough, messy kiss.

Lan Wangji wraps his arms around Wei Wuxian’s waist and kisses him back, willing away his own panic and letting Wei Wuxian take what he needs.

This time, when Wei Wuxian pulls back, he is smiling at Lan Wangji with open adoration. His eyes are still wet, but they are shining with joy, and Lan Wangji’s heart skips a beat at the sight of him.

“You’re not too much. You could never be too much. Lan Zhan, I don’t think I could ever get enough of you!” He yanks Lan Wangji forward and kisses him one more time, quick and firm. “Please always be intense, and serious, and fucking overwhelming because Lan Zhan, I wouldn’t want you any other way!”

Lan Wangji feels a surge of relief and affection so heady he has to fight not to sway with it.

“I’m fine,” Wei Wuxian assures him. “I am better than fine. I am fantastic. Lan Zhan, I am just so fucking happy.”

“I’m glad,” Lan Wangji manages, voice hoarse. “I’m so glad, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian grins and pushes off of Lan Wangji’s chest, shoving him playfully back a step. “Good,” he says. “Now get out of here before I lose all my self-control and just eat you up. You’d better hurry, or your uncle is going to kill me for making you late.”

Lan Wangji nods. The last thing he wants to do is leave, but Wei Wuxian is right. It is time for him to go.

“I will see you tomorrow,” he promises. “Goodnight, Wei Ying.”

“Goodnight, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian smiles.

Lan Wangji carries that smile with him all the way home.

---

Lan Wangji makes it through the door of the apartment at exactly 9:05pm. He doesn’t make it out of the foyer before his uncle is glaring at him in disapproval.

“Wangji,” Lan Qiren glowers.

“Uncle.” Lan Wangji ducks quickly into a bow. “I apologise for being late.” He rises to meet Lan Qiren’s gaze, standing perfectly straight and trying to slow down his breathing. He’d jogged part of the way back, and now he’s wishing he’d moved just a little faster.

Lan Qiren stares him down. “It’s not like you to lose track of time. Where have you been?”

“I came from the dorms,” Lan Wangji answers.

“What business did you have there?”

Lan Wangji swallows. “I was dropping off a friend.”

Lan Qiren narrows his eyes. “What friend?”

Lan Wangji hesitates almost imperceptibly before replying.

“Wei Wuxian.”

Lan Qiren hardens his gaze. “Wei Wuxian,” he repeats. “I see.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t flinch under his uncle’s scrutiny, meeting his piercing stare directly and refusing to look away.

“I had heard,” Lan Qiren says slowly, “that the two of you have been seen much in each other’s company as of late. I presume this is true?”

Lan Wangji doesn’t deny it.

“Does he intend to stay the summer in Gusu?”

“No,” Lan Wangji says. “He leaves for Yunmeng tomorrow.”

“Hm,” is all Lan Qiren says in reply.

He stares at Lan Wangji for another few moments before heading back into the apartment. He turns at the edge of the foyer and fixes Lan Wangji with another stern look.

“Do not make a habit of this.”

Lan Wangji bows once more, knowing he is being let off the hook. “I won’t. Thank you, Uncle.”

When he straightens up again, Lan Qiren is gone.

---

The train station is packed when Lan Wangji arrives in the nexus between platforms, scanning the crowd for that familiar, beloved face. He doesn’t know when Wei Wuxian is planning to arrive, having neglected to ask him last night. It’s likely that Jiang Cheng would insist on being early, so Lan Wangji has made sure to arrive no less than half an hour before the train’s scheduled departure.

He catches sight of Jiang Cheng first, coming around the corner looking harassed, towing a suitcase behind him. Wei Wuxian emerges a little behind and beside him, wheeling his own luggage along and looking like he’s just rolled out of bed. His hair is rumpled and his expression is still sleepy as he hides a yawn behind the back of his hand.

Lan Wangji weaves his way through the sea of people toward them, and when he’s just a few metres away, Jiang Cheng looks up and sees him. Jiang Cheng stops dead in his tracks, eyes going wide, and Wei Wuxian crashes into his back as he trips over Jiang Cheng’s suddenly stationary suitcase.

“Fuck,” Jiang Cheng says, although it’s not clear if he’s swearing at Wei Wuxian or just life in general.

Wei Wuxian steadies himself against Jiang Cheng’s back. He catches sight of Lan Wangji over Jiang Cheng’s shoulder and perks up immediately.

“Lan Zhan!” he calls, sounding delighted. “You came!”

Lan Wangji closes the last bit of distance and comes to a stop in front of them. Wei Wuxian steps around Jiang Cheng and beams at Lan Wangji, standing much closer than would generally be considered polite. Lan Wangji takes a moment to regard Wei Wuxian softly, and then he flicks his eyes back to where Jiang Cheng is still rooted to the floor, face gone pale and mouth turned down into a thin, hard frown. Their eyes lock and Jiang Cheng inhales sharply before averting his gaze and digging around in his pocket. Finding what he was looking for, Jiang Cheng steps forward and grabs Wei Wuxian by the wrist, forcing a train ticket into Wei Wuxian’s hand.

“Here,” Jiang Cheng says. “Do not fucking lose it.” He yanks Wei Wuxian’s suitcase out of Wei Wuxian’s other hand and makes to drag it alongside his own. “I’ll go find us some seats. Do not miss the fucking train, you asshole.”

He’s gone before Wei Wuxian can offer a response, disappearing into the crowd in the direction of their platform.

“He’s so cheerful in the mornings,” Wei Wuxian chirps. “It’s gonna be such a fun ride.”

Lan Wangji huffs in agreement. “Here,” he says, offering Wei Wuxian the fancy coffee and the pastry he’d purchased at the café outside the station. “For you.”

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian takes the bag and accepts the cup, brushing their fingers together as he does so. “Thank you!”  He takes a sip and hums appreciatively. “You’re too good to me, Er-gege.”

Lan Wangji takes him by the elbow and leads him to an empty bench. They sit together as Wei Wuxian eats his breakfast, and they watch as people move hurriedly past them, marching into the bustling chaos of the oncoming day.

Lan Wangji lets his eyes rove over Wei Wuxian’s profile, his gaze coming to rest on Wei Wuxian’s neck. A dark, angry mark has blossomed on the skin there, and Lan Wangji feels a hot, possessive thrill run through him at the sight. Wei Wuxian catches him staring and grins, flushing just a little.

“Lan Zhan, you were so bold last night,” Wei Wuxian drawls. “Are you always going to kiss me until I can’t stand up straight?”

“If you wish,” Lan Wangji says, eyes hooded.

“Er-gege,” Wei Wuxian draws out the gummy syllables. “You’re going to spoil me.”

“Mn.” Lan Wangji reaches up and ghosts his fingertips over the bruise on Wei Wuxian’s neck. He lets his hand drift down, fingers coming to rest lightly on Wei Wuxian’s collarbone. Wei Wuxian closes his eyes and shivers, lips parting to breathe out a tremulous sigh.

“Lan Zhan,” he whispers. “That’s dangerous.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji says again, retracting his hand and settling it in his own lap.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes flutter open, and he grins once more, cheeky and lopsided. “So bold,” he says again. “Lan Zhan, you really do know how to treat me.”

The announcement for the train to Yunmeng blares over the loudspeakers. Wei Wuxian sighs and gets to his feet, Lan Wangji rising smoothly to follow him. Together, they head toward the platform and stop in front of the train, lingering at the edges of the crowd that is queueing up in front of the doors.

Wei Wuxian turns to face him, and Lan Wangji feels his heart clench. “This is it,” Wei Wuxian says. “Can I break my own rule and give you a hug?”

Lan Wangji nods, and then Wei Wuxian is stepping forward to snake his arms around Lan Wangji’s neck. Lan Wangji pulls him closer, holding him tightly, feeling the steady beat of Wei Wuxian’s heart against his own chest. Wei Wuxian turns his face to sneak a quick kiss onto Lan Wangji’s cheek, and then he is pulling back, hands sliding down to grip Lan Wangji’s arms.

“I’ll text you every day,” Wei Wuxian says. “I’ll send you lots of pictures. Send me some, too, okay?”

“I will,” Lan Wangji promises.

“Don’t forget me?”

“Never,” Lan Wangji vows.

Wei Wuxian flashes him a dazzling smile and gives Lan Wangji’s arms a final squeeze. “Bye, Lan Zhan. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Mn. Goodbye, Wei Ying.”

Lan Wangji watches him disappear onto the train, tracking him through the windows as Wei Wuxian moves further into the car in search of Jiang Cheng. He watches until he can no longer see him, until the train pulls away and Lan Wangji is left standing on an empty platform. He takes an extra minute before he turns to leave, making his way slowly back through the crowds.

It hasn’t even been five minutes before his phone goes off, blinking with a new message:

Wei Ying <3: I adore you

Lan Wangji stops and stares, warming with affection. He is just about to type something back when he is nearly run over by a figure who comes crashing around the corner and goes flailing right into his side. He reels a little from the contact but regains his footing, straightening up to come face to face with a rapidly paling Nie Huaisang.

“Oh my God,” Nie Huaisang blurts out. “Lan Wangji! I’m so sorry, I don’t know what just happened, I really didn’t mean to, here, let me--”

Lan Wangji recoils as Nie Huaisang attempts to dust him off. “Do not touch me,” he grits out.

“Right! Sorry! So sorry!” Nie Huaisang hovers anxiously. There’s an awkward pause as they stare at each other before Nie Huaisang seems to collect himself, smoothing down his own rumpled shirt and righting his luggage from where it’s fallen over on its side.

“Well,” Nie Huaisang says. “I’m off to Qinghe today, but what brings you here?”

Lan Wangji averts his eyes, feeling even more awkward than before.

“Oh! That’s right,” Nie Huaisang says, content to answer his own question. “Wei Wuxian left for Yunmeng this morning. You must have come to see him off?”

It’s not really a question, so Lan Wangji doesn’t answer him.

“I see, I see,” Nie Huaisang continues. “That was very nice of you. I’m sure he appreciated it.”

Lan Wangji grits his teeth. “Aren’t you in a hurry?”

Nie Huaisang looks at him questioningly.

“You were rushing just now.”

Nie Huaisang laughs nervously. “Ah, yes, that. I do apologize. But I’m actually okay for time. I realised just as I ran into you that I’d been watching the wrong departure all morning.”

Lan Wangji just blinks at him. It certainly sounds like something Nie Huaisang would do.

“Actually,” Nie Huaisang continues, “I’m glad I ran into you.”

Lan Wangji raises an eyebrow.

“Well, not that I literally ran into you,” Nie Huaisang says remorsefully. “But I’m glad that you’re here.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve been meaning to apologize to you,” Nie Huaisang explains.

“…Why?”

“That day, before the History exam. I think I might have teased you a little too directly. That was out of line. I want you to know that I wasn’t trying to embarrass you.”

“Then what were you trying to do?” Lan Wangji wants to know.

Nie Huaisang sighs. “I was trying to encourage you. Or, well, I guess I was encouraging him, mostly. I knew that he liked you. I was pretty sure you liked him, too.”

Lan Wangji can feel his face getting hot.

“It’s none of your business,” he bites out.

“I know, I know,” Nie Huaisang holds up his hands in appeasement. “I’m not trying to meddle. Whatever’s going on between you two has nothing to do with me. But I want you to know that I’m rooting for you. I’m on your side.”

“My side?” Lan Wangji repeats.

“Yes,” affirms Nie Huaisang. “I’m on your side. I’m your ally, okay?”

“Why?” Lan Wangji asks again.

“Look,” explains Nie Huaisang, “Wei Wuxian is my friend. And you scare the shit out of me sometimes, but I think you’re pretty cool. I know these things can be tricky.” He fixes Lan Wangji with a serious expression; Lan Wangji has never seen it on his face before. “Especially for people like us.”

Lan Wangji feels a small chill run up his spine.

“I just thought,” Nie Huaisang continues, “that it might be nice to know you have some support, if you ever need it.”

Lan Wangji nods fractionally. “Thank you,” he says carefully. “I will remember that.”

Nie Huaisang returns the nod and then straightens. “All right, then,” he exclaims. “I’m off. Provided I passed enough of my exams, I’ll see you in the fall. And if not, please tell your brother to remind my brother that he loves me and he really doesn’t want to kill me after all.”

Lan Wangji snorts. “I shall pass on the message.”

“Thank you kindly,” Nie Huaisang says, and then he is moving away, swallowed almost immediately by the crowd.

Lan Wangji takes the long way home, walking slowly and allowing himself to think about the last few days. Wei Wuxian is, as always, at the forefront of his thoughts. He thinks about their conversation yesterday at lunch and probes into his uncomfortable outburst of emotion. Wei Wuxian had triggered the memory of a joy so pure that even the thought of it is enough to bring a lump into Lan Wangji’s throat. He wonders if that joy had passed from his life the moment his mother had died. Had he buried it with her and forgotten he’d ever felt it until now? Or had it gradually flickered out under the weight of so many other expectations?

What would happen if he were to seriously consider pursuing music? Would it truly make him happy? He’s sure his uncle would disapprove, but then again, Wei Wuxian had made a fair point: an undergrad degree in music would hardly prevent him from completing a teaching master’s later. Could he really pursue a different future? A future even slightly more suited to him? Could there really be a chance to teach music by developing an orchestra program? It would be ambitious, but not impossible. Of course Wei Wuxian had thought of it; nothing is impossible to Wei Wuxian.

What would it be like, he thinks, to be free the way that Wei Wuxian claims to be free? It’s true that Wei Wuxian has no path set in stone to follow, but is he really free from obligations? Lan Wangji doesn’t believe so. Wei Wuxian’s loyalty to the Jiang family runs deep, and that sort of attachment comes with its own burdens. He wonders if Wei Wuxian really would cut ties if pushed, if he’d ever truly abandon the people who had taken him in as family. Lan Wangji can’t even imagine how lonely that would feel. The thought of losing family is devastating to Lan Wangji. He and Wei Wuxian have already lost both parents. He can’t bear to think what it might mean to lose more.

He thinks of his uncle, of everything Lan Qiren has given him. Lan Wangji has never questioned him, no matter how severe or strict his uncle has been. But now, Lan Wangji is questioning his disapproval of Wei Wuxian. He knows Lan Qiren considers Wei Wuxian a disruptive influence, but is that his only objection? He thinks of his strange conversation with Nie Huaisang and sighs.

Back in the apartment, Lan Wangji changes out of his shoes and heads toward the music room. He sits at the piano and contemplates the keys before settling in and beginning to play. Music has always helped him unwind his thoughts, and Lan Wangji has been given a lot to think about this summer.

He thinks of Wei Wuxian, and plays on.

Chapter Text

Summer in Gusu stretches out long and hot before Lan Wangji. His days still start at the crack of dawn, unfolding neatly into a series of scheduled activities.  His evenings are free and contemplative, and now, they come with a soundtrack.

Wei Wuxian has given him enough music that if he put it all into one playlist, Lan Wangji is certain it would last for days. He hadn’t known exactly what to expect when he plugged the USB stick into his laptop, but what he’d found had surprised him. Rows of meticulously labeled folders, each containing either a full album or a series of songs Wei Wuxian has grouped together under a common theme. Each folder also includes a word document explaining why everything has been chosen. They are enthusiastic little blurbs that read exactly how Wei Wuxian speaks: quickly, excitedly, and occasionally a little disjointed, as if he’d been thinking faster than he could type.

It’s no wonder it took him a whole night to put it together, and Lan Wangji finds his efforts endlessly endearing. Outside of classical, Lan Wangji is mostly unfamiliar with western music, and he commits to listening to everything, if for no other reason than to respect the time and effort that Wei Wuxian put into making this for him.

Wei Wuxian had warned him that the list was eclectic; there’s everything from top 40 bubble gum pop to folk-rock and alternative country.  Lan Wangji works his way through the folders one at a time, loading them onto his phone and playing them on his evening walks.  

He tires quickly of collections labeled ‘90’s Divas’ or ‘Power Ballads’, although he appreciates the singing skill and acknowledges their usefulness in building English vocabulary through repetitive lyrics. The folder called ‘Classic Rock’ is slightly more appealing; it’s hard not to like The Beatles.

The folder named ‘Jazz’ is enchanting; Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday, and Nina Simone sing with voices that resonate deep in his bones. There’s a folder for ‘Cover Songs’ containing an album by a woman called Eva Cassidy. Lan Wangji finds himself putting Songbird on repeat, enthralled by the sweet timbre of her voice. ‘Brain Music’ involves artists whose lyrics are poetic and challenging. Lan Wangji decides he likes Leonard Cohen better than Bob Dylan. He likes Joni Mitchel better than both of them.

Beyonce, of course, has her own folder. Inside is her solo album and the complete catalogue of Destiny’s Child. Wei Wuxian’s note reads: Listen carefully. Beyonce-laoshi knows what she’s talking about!

He is intrigued by the folder named ‘Bet you’ve never heard of this!’ because he definitely doesn’t recognise anything inside. There’s a couple of albums by a group named Clann Zu, whose lead singer has the sort of voice that rings so clearly it could travel through a tunnel without echoing. He plays Furnace Room Lullaby by Neko Case two nights in a row; her powerful, pitch-perfect vocals rattle something in the space between his ribcage and his heart.

Wei Ying <3: Isn’t she awesome? I’ll make sure to get her new album off of Mo Xuanyu so I can give it to you when I get back

Lan Wangji types out a quick thank you, then sends Wei Wuxian a picture of the lilacs clustered near the path he is on. He is trying to be better about sending picture messages, since it has never been his habit to do so, and he doesn’t consider himself much of a photographer. Wei Wuxian doesn’t appear to mind; he seems happy to receive any kind of update on Lan Wangji’s day, even the boring ones.

Wei Ying <3: So pretty!

A moment later:

Wei Ying <3: I miss you

I miss you, too.

It’s almost pleasantly painful this time, missing Wei Wuxian. Every pang his absence inspires is soothed by the thought that Wei Wuxian is coming back, and each twinge of longing is countered by the simmering anticipation of their reunion.

It’s a humid, rainy evening when Lan Wangji sits at the piano and nurses that longing, making notes on his music sheets in between spurts of playing. His phone goes off on the bench beside him, and he sweeps it up to open Wei Wuxian’s message.

Wei Ying <3: Lan Zhan! What are you doing right now?

Music.

Wei Ying <3: What kind of music?

Piano.

Wei Ying <3: What are you playing?

He hesitates before replying:

I’m composing.

Wei Ying <3: You’re writing a song? Waaah, I wanna hear it!!

It’s not finished yet.

Wei Ying <3: What’s it about?

Lan Wangji does not type back ‘You’.

Wei Ying <3:  Are there words, or just music?

Wei Ying <3:  Is it fast or slow?

Wei Ying <3: Is it happy or sad??

Wei Ying <3:  Is it a love song???

Wei Ying. Enough.

Wei Wuxian responds with a pouting selfie.

You’ll hear it when it’s done.

He receives a string of hearts and kissy-face emojis in return.

The song is mostly finished by the time Lan Wangji leaves for Korea. Seoul is frenetic, a maze of skyscrapers, and Lan Wangji finds no shortage of things to photograph and send to Wei Wuxian, who receives it all with enthusiasm. He is especially pleased by all the pictures of spicy looking street food. Just the fumes at some of the stalls are enough to make Lan Wangji’s eyes water.

Wei Ying <3: Lan Zhan, you are making me so hungry! I’m so jealous! I want to be there with you!

Lan Wangji would like nothing more than to have Wei Wuxian there beside him, eyes shining, hanging off his arm, and devouring everything in sight.

Wei Ying <3: Can you even eat anything? Are you okay? Are you gonna die from spice??

Lan Wangji sends him a picture of his haemul pajeon.

This one is safe.

Wei Ying <3: Oh, good! My Er-gege won’t starve to death <3

He goes shopping for the obligatory souvenirs, purchasing several packets of expensive ginseng to give to his tutors and his music teachers when he returns. Everywhere he goes, Lan Wangji is on alert for things that Wei Wuxian might like. He is too embarrassed to go anywhere near the idol shops, and he realises he doesn’t have a clue which K-pop groups Wei Wuxian actually likes, regardless, so he mostly sticks with edibles. He amasses a small stockpile of interesting, spicy snack food to take back with him.

He tries to sleep on the plane back to China without much success, so he spends the time ruminating over the notes of his unfinished song, instead. It’s almost complete, but it needs a little something more, and Lan Wangji muses over the final few bars, puzzling over how to tie it all together.

The evening after arriving home, he is seated at his piano again, reviewing the entire composition and experimenting with a few new adjustments when his phone vibrates beside him.

Wei Ying <3: Lan Zhan! Guess what?

What?

A picture pops up, and Lan Wangji clicks to enlarge the image of Wei Wuxian standing outside the entrance to the Gusu Academy dorms, grinning from ear to ear.

Wei Ying <3: Surprise!

Lan Wangji’s heart leaps and crashes against his ribcage.

You’re back?

Wei Ying <3:  Yes! Can I come see you now?

Lan Wangji glances at the clock.

Wei Ying <3: I can make it before 9:00pm, I promise. I’ll be cutting it close, but I really can’t wait! Can I please come?

Lan Wangji’s heart continues to rabbit in his chest as he types out his reply.

Of course. I will meet you outside.

Wei Ying <3: Okay! See you soon!

Concentration officially shot, Lan Wangji busies himself tidying his music sheets before heading into his room and absently rearranging the few spare items on his desk. He paces back and forth a few times, increasingly restless. Giving up, he grabs a light blue cardigan from his closet and shrugs it on before heading to the door. He can feel his uncle’s gaze tracking him all the way into the foyer from where he sits on the couch. Lan Wangji avoids his eyes, quickly steps into his shoes and slips silently out the door.

It’s the end of August, but the night air has already started to cool, hinting at the beginning of fall. Lan Wangji walks to the side of the street, lingering under the streetlamp where he’d first kissed Wei Wuxian. He runs his fingertips over the cool metal post, anticipation building to a crescendo as he finally spies Wei Wuxian coming around the corner.

Wei Wuxian’s face splits into a grin when he sees him, and he picks up his pace, jogging with long strides until he crashes into Lan Wangji’s space, arms outstretched to brace himself against Lan Wangji’s shoulders as he comes to a stumbling halt. Lan Wangji reaches out to catch him, hands landing on Wei Wuxian’s hips, steadying him as he sways closer with a breathless laugh.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian is everywhere, flitting about in Lan Wangji’s loose grip like a hummingbird in search of nectar. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan!”  He leaves light, fluttering kisses all over Lan Wangji’s face, his hands skittering over Lan Wangji’s arms, his neck, his hair.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji manages through the onslaught. “Wei Ying, calm down.”

“Shan’t!” Wei Wuxian sings, peppering Lan Wangji’s cheek with kisses, progressing toward his ear and nipping at Lan Wangji’s earlobe.

Lan Wangji hisses and finally manages to grab hold of Wei Wuxian’s wrists as Wei Wuxian’s hands flit toward his face. He wraps one hand around both slender wrists and pins them to his own chest. With his other hand, he reaches up to grasp the back of Wei Wuxian’s neck, digging his fingers in until he hears Wei Wuxian gasp next to his ear. Lan Wangji yanks him back just far enough to turn his face and claim his lips, teasing his mouth open and kissing him firmly until he can feel Wei Wuxian start to melt against him. Lan Wangji releases his neck and wraps his arm around Wei Wuxian’s shoulders, drawing them closer together, Wei Wuxian’s hands crushed against Lan Wangji’s heart.

Wei Wuxian hums into the kiss, and Lan Wangji releases his wrists, allowing Wei Wuxian to slide his hands up Lan Wangji’s chest and wrap his arms around Lan Wangji’s neck. Flush together like this, Lan Wangji can feel Wei Wuxian’s racing heartbeat. He can feel his own pulse quickening to catch up as the heat builds between them, and he reluctantly draws back a bit, meaning to slow them down. Wei Wuxian whines a little in disappointment, and Lan Wangji pushes back in for a moment, unable to deny him completely, but keeping the contact a little lighter than before.

Wei Wuxian sighs across his mouth as they part, eyes filled with happiness and longing as they flicker open to study Lan Wangji’s face. “Er-gege,” he croons. “Who taught you to kiss like that?”

Lan Wangji huffs indignantly. “I think you know.”

Wei Wuxian feigns innocence. “I can’t imagine what you mean!”

Lan Wangji raises an eyebrow at him. “Can you imagine me kissing anyone else, then?”

“No!” Wei Wuxian almost looks stricken at the thought, and it warms something in Lan Wangji’s chest. “I just meant I’m not a very good teacher. How could I be? You were my first kiss.”

Lan Wangji blinks at him.

“Don’t look so surprised!” Wei Wuxian cries, swatting at his arm. “I may be an incorrigible flirt, but I’m not—I wouldn’t give away my first kiss to just anyone!”

Lan Wangji blinks at him again before replying. “Thank you for saving it for me.”

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian flushes scarlet, dropping his head into Lan Wangji’s chest. “Heart attack!”

“Mn.” Lan Wangji pets the back of his head, feeling accomplished.

Wei Wuxian grumbles a little, but he nestles closer, straightening up enough to nuzzle into Lan Wangji’s neck, and he wraps his arms around Lan Wangji’s waist. “Hug me!” he demands.

Lan Wangji complies, bringing both arms up and around Wei Wuxian’s shoulders and resting his cheek against Wei Wuxian’s temple.

“You came back early,” Lan Wangji murmurs.

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian breathes into his neck. “I changed my ticket, and Uncle Jiang called ahead to make sure a room would be ready for me. They said it was no trouble, since some students stay the whole summer, anyway.”

Wei Wuxian lifts his head and brushes his lips lightly against the corner of Lan Wangji’s mouth. “I missed you so much.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji agrees. He returns the kiss, a little firmer this time.

“So, now I’m here to claim all of your evenings until school starts,” Wei Wuxian declares. “I have plans.”

“Plans?” asks Lan Wangji.

“Yes. I plan to stick to you like a limpet. I hope that’s okay with you.”

Lan Wangji lets out something like a laugh.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says in wonder. “You’re smiling!” He runs the tips of his fingers over Lan Wangji’s eyebrow, stopping at the corner of his eye where the skin is crinkled almost imperceptibly.

“Mn.” Lan Wangji turns his face to drop a kiss into Wei Wuxian’s hand.

Wei Wuxian makes a little squeaky noise in his throat before throwing his arms around Lan Wangji’s neck again and rocking them back and forth.

“You are so cute! You’re just perfect! Lan Zhan, I like you so fucking much!”

Lan Wangji simply holds him tighter, all of his words swallowed by a wave of overwhelming gratitude for this boy.

“Okay,” Wei Wuxian pulls back once more. “What time are you done with all your music teachers tomorrow?”

“5:00pm.”

“And do you have to have dinner with your uncle?”

Lan Wangji shakes his head. “Uncle will be at the office until late tomorrow. He is home late most evenings.”

“Good,” Wei Wuxian says. “Then I’ll meet you right here tomorrow at exactly 5:01pm. I’ll bring dinner,” he adds.

Lan Wangji regards him softly. “5:01pm,” he affirms.

“Perfect,” Wei Wuxian smiles. He leans in for one more kiss, then shivers as he draws back, Lan Wangji’s hands running over his arms as he disentangles them to move away.

“Wei Ying, you’re cold,” Lan Wangji says.

“Just a little,” Wei Wuxian shrugs. He’s only wearing a thin t-shirt. “It’s so much warmer in Yunmeng, and I jogged most of the way here, so I really wasn’t feeling it until now. I’ll just run back.”

Wordlessly, Lan Wangji slips off his cardigan and wraps it around Wei Wuxian’s shoulders. Wei Wuxian regards him with wide, laughing eyes, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“Lan Zhan, seriously, where did you learn to be so suave?” he asks cheekily.

In lieu of answering, Lan Wangji fists his hands in the cardigan and hauls Wei Wuxian forward to kiss him, roughly and thoroughly. When he pulls back, Wei Wuxian is breathing hard, lips red and pupils blown wide.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian exhales. “You’re going to ruin me.”

“Wei Ying.” He drags his thumb across Wei Wuxian’s lower lip, thrilling at Wei Wuxian’s stuttered breath. “I have to go.”

“Right.” Wei Wuxian heaves a massive sigh before nodding and stepping back. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“5:01.”

“5:01,” Wei Wuxian agrees. “Goodnight, Lan Zhan.”

“Goodnight, Wei Ying.”

He doesn’t have time to watch him go, so Lan Wangji darts back inside, pressing the button to the elevator and willing it to move faster. He shuts the door to the apartment behind him at exactly 8:57pm.

His uncle is still sitting on the couch when he leaves the foyer, and there is no avoiding his eyes this time. Lan Qiren is staring right at him, a look of bewildered disapproval on his face. Lan Wangji hesitates. He doesn’t particularly want to engage his uncle in conversation right now. Especially, he realises with a spike of anxiety, if Lan Qiren has noticed his missing sweater.  

But Lan Qiren says nothing; he merely blinks as his frown deepens, and Lan Wangji takes the chance to slip down the hallway and into the bathroom, shutting the door just a little too quickly. He studies himself in the mirror, letting his fingers drift to his kiss swollen mouth. He doesn’t look too different than he normally does, save for the extra colour in his lips, but he feels different, somehow.

He’s happy, he realises.

He brushes his teeth and showers quickly, but he doesn’t head straight to bed. Instead, he enters the music room and pulls out his composition, scribbling a series of notes on the stave, humming along as he goes. He looks it over once, twice, makes a few notations on the third time through, and then sits back, satisfied at last.

He will have to practice extensively to really get the feel of it the way he wants to, but Lan Wangji is certain he has enough time. He needs to have it perfect by October.

Back in his room, a message pops up from Wei Wuxian.

Wei Ying <3: Home now. I miss you already. But I’m really glad I got to kiss you goodnight <3

Me too.

Wei Ying <3: You’re my favourite!

Lan Wangji types back, his heart full.

I am glad you’re back, Wei Ying.

---

“You’re late!” Wei Wuxian exclaims, smiling playfully with his hands on his hips.

Lan Wangji glances at his phone, which reads exactly 5:06.

“I apologise,” he says solemnly.

“What’s that?” Wei Wuxian gestures to the bag Lan Wangji is carrying. He hefts the bag in his own hand to eye level. “I said I was bringing dinner remember?”

“Gifts from Korea.” Lan Wangji offers him the bag. “For you.”

“For me?” Wei Wuxian says, eyes sparkling. “Lan Zhan, thank you! You shouldn’t have!”

He absolutely should have, Lan Wangji thinks, if it means he gets to see that look on Wei Wuxian’s face.

“Let’s go find someplace to sit and eat,” Wei Wuxian says. “I’m starving!”

Lan Wangji leads him to the nearby park, and they settle down on a patch of sunlit grass in a secluded area of the gardens. Dinner is zongzi full of mung beans and salted duck eggs for Lan Wangji, chicken and lap cheong for Wei Wuxian. They wash it down with bottled tea and snack on longan for dessert.

Wei Wuxian rustles through the bag of souvenirs, making little sounds of approval at how violently red all the snacks are.

“These all look lethal. Which is perfect, because now I don’t have to share with Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says brightly. “I’ll probably eat them all before he gets back, anyway.”

“Is your brother coming back early at all?” Lan Wangji hopes not.

“Nope, he’s back the day before classes start. He’s taking some godawful crack of dawn train to arrive by early afternoon, so he’s going to be extra cranky when he gets here. Can’t wait,” Wei Wuxian quips.

Lan Wangji collects their discarded bamboo leaves and the longan skins, putting them in the bag while Wei Wuxian stretches out on his back in the grass, tucking one arm behind his head and letting his legs sprawl. He pats the ground beside him, inviting Lan Wangji closer.

“Lie down with me,” Wei Wuxian beckons. “The sun is nice and the sky is really pretty today.”

Lan Wangji inches closer until he is sitting with his legs stretched out alongside Wei Wuxian’s body. He hesitates, but Wei Wuxian reaches up and tugs on his arm until Lan Wangji relents and lowers himself onto his back. He feels incredibly awkward, lying around so casually in public with the sides of their arms pressed together, but at least there don’t seem to be many passersby in this part of the garden.  Lan Wangji stares up at an endless, impossibly blue sky and feels a sense of vertigo. He finds Wei Wuxian’s hand beside his own in the grass and holds on tight, anchoring himself to the ground. Wei Wuxian laces their fingers together and tightens his grip.

“So you’ve been enjoying your musical education?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“Yes,” Lan Wangji answers. “It’s been challenging this summer. The new guqin teacher, especially.”

Wei Wuxian chuckles. “That’s good, but I meant the other musical education. The one I gave you.”

“Oh,” Lan Wangji says, caught slightly off guard. He pauses before answering, considering. “Yes. I am enjoying it very much.”

“Some more than others, I’ll bet.” Wei Wuxian looks sideways at him, smile gleaming in the sunlight. “You’ve told me some of your favourites already, but Lan Zhan, you’ve forgotten to mention the most important part.”

“Have I?” Lan Wangji asks.

Wei Wuxian props himself up on his elbow, turning so that he can loom slightly over Lan Wangji.

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian says, face serious but eyes laughing. “Lan Zhan, tell me. What have you learned from Beyonce?”

Lan Wangji lets out a puff of air that could almost be a laugh. “Beyonce-laoshi. Of course.”

“Hmm?” Wei Wuxian prompts. “Any new words? Revelations? Life lessons?” He trails the fingers of his free hand down Lan Wangji’s arm. “Are you more of a Baby Boy, or a Naughty Girl?”

Lan Wangji balks. “Neither,” he almost splutters, ears flushing.

Wei Wuxian grins. “Really?” He shifts to lean further overtop of Lan Wangji, tracing idle patterns across Lan Wangji’s chest with his index finger. His smile goes a bit lopsided. “Because I definitely know which one I am.”

Lan Wangji can feel the heat rising in his face. “Shameless,” he breathes out.

Wei Wuxian’s smile only widens at that, eyes glittering with mirth. “You can be my Baby Boy, then.”

Lan Wangji surges upward and flips their positions, forcing Wei Wuxian back onto the grass. Wei Wuxian goes easily, laughing joyfully all the way. His hands come up to grip Lan Wangji’s hips as Lan Wangji pins him to the ground. Lan Wangji settles his knees on either side of Wei Wuxian’s outstretched legs, kneeling on all fours overtop of him.

“Who is a baby?” Lan Wangji growls, leaning down to bite Wei Wuxian’s neck.

“Not that kind of baby!” Wei Wuxian’s laughter stutters in his throat momentarily as Lan Wangji sinks his teeth in, but he continues to giggle wholeheartedly, clearly pleased with himself.

“Yes! No! Hurt me so good, baby, oh!” Wei Wuxian sings through his laughter.

Lan Wangji moves up below his ear and bites his neck harder. He detaches himself and sucks Wei Wuxian’s earlobe into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth.

This time, Wei Wuxian’s laughter falters and turns breathless.

Taking that as his cue, Lan Wangji pulls back to find Wei Wuxian’s lips, nipping at the side of his mouth before kissing him fully. Wei Wuxian opens his mouth beneath him, moaning softly, his hands flying up to grasp Lan Wangji by the back of the neck. He pulls Lan Wangji forward, inviting him to go deeper, and Lan Wangji goes eagerly.

Wei Wuxian runs his hands down and up Lan Wangji’s arms, then trails them down his sides to hook into Lan Wangji’s belt loops. He tugs insistently.

“Get down here,” Wei Wuxian breathes against Lan Wangji’s lips.

He yanks again, and this time, Lan Wangji lets himself be dragged downward, his knees sliding back as Wei Wuxian pulls them flush against each other on the ground. Lan Wangji’s head snaps back with a hiss as Wei Wuxian rolls their hips together, and Wei Wuxian takes advantage of his exposed throat, nipping at his Adam’s apple.

Lan Wangji braces himself on his forearms, meaning to put some space back between them, but Wei Wuxian’s arms fly around his torso and tighten like a vice, keeping their chests pressed together. Lan Wangji collapses back against him with a small puff of air.

“Limpet!” Wei Wuxian chirps next to Lan Wangji’s ear before biting his earlobe.

Lan Wangji growls and attempts to reach behind himself to detach Wei Wuxian’s death grip, but the angle makes it difficult to pry Wei Wuxian loose. Wei Wuxian laughs freely, thoroughly enjoying himself. Taking a different approach, Lan Wangji viciously attacks Wei Wuxian’s sides with his fingers, digging into the sensitive flesh over his ribs. Wei Wuxian yelps and jerks his arms back to protect himself, and Lan Wangji takes the opportunity to haul himself up a bit and seize Wei Wuxian’s wrists. Pinning both of Wei Wuxian’s hands above his head, Lan Wangji lowers himself back down, letting the weight of his body settle fully on top of Wei Wuxian. 

Wei Wuxian is no longer laughing; he is breathing hard, deep and ragged, and Lan Wangji hovers over his mouth until a small, aborted whimper escapes him. Lan Wangji chases the sound back into Wei Wuxian’s mouth, stroking deep with his tongue until Wei Wuxian groans.

The sound of footsteps on the distant path has Lan Wangji wrenching himself up and off Wei Wuxian. He falls to the side and rolls onto his back again, panting up at the sky. Beside him, Wei Wuxian’s breathing is equally rapid, but he lets out a few breathless giggles before settling down, finding Lan Wangji’s hand again, and giving it a small squeeze. Lan Wangji squeezes back in reassurance.

The footsteps draw closer and then continue on, fading away as they round the bend. Lan Wangji’s heart is still racing, and a small part of him is almost grateful for the intrusion. He can’t believe he let things go so far in public. How careless, he thinks, a twist of shame in his gut. The things he wants to do to Wei Wuxian…

He closes his eyes for a moment and brings his breathing under control. When he opens them again, Wei Wuxian is sitting up and looking down at him thoughtfully. Feeling self-conscious, Lan Wangji sits up as well, absently brushing at the grass stains on his knees.

“Shall we take a walk?” Wei Wuxian suggests. “This must be the garden you sent me all those pictures of. I’d like to see it.”

“Mn.” Lan Wangji takes the out.

They wander aimlessly along the path, branching off at random and circling back around one section, then the next. There’s a small pond somewhere near the middle, and they watch the happy pairs of mandarin ducks paddle their way across the surface.

Wei Wuxian tugs on Lan Wangji’s sleeve. “Take a picture with me,” he says.

He guides Lan Wangji by the hand and positions him near the edge of the pond. Lan Wangji stands stiff and straight as a flagpole as Wei Wuxian comes to put his arm around his shoulders.

Wei Wuxian grins and plants a kiss on his cheek. “Just relax. Don’t worry, you don’t have to smile. You can just look like your regular, gorgeous self.”

He angles his phone so that they are off to one side. “I want to get the ducks in the picture,” he explains. “Come on, guys, just a little further,” he says to the ducks.

Lan Wangji watches a pair of ducks drift into the frame, then lets his eyes slide to where Wei Wuxian is displayed on the screen. He can feel his face softening even as Wei Wuxian exclaims, “Now!” and snaps the picture.

Wei Wuxian checks it and grins. “Perfect!” he says. “Lan Zhan, you really are photogenic.”

Lan Wangji does not agree, but he has to admit it is a good shot of both of them. Wei Wuxian looks happy and radiant as always, and Lan Wangji’s facial expression is relaxed, not nearly as severe as it normally is. Lan Wangji knows exactly why, and it warms his heart to think of it.

Wei Wuxian sets it as his wallpaper and sends Lan Wangji a copy.

---

9 o’clock looms closer as they approach Lan Wangji’s apartment building, and they spend the last few minutes in another furtive embrace before Lan Wangji has to dash up the stairs to make it inside just in time. His uncle graces him with another disapproving glower, but since he’s not actually late, Lan Qiren does not reprimand him.

It’s the same thing the following night, and the night after that. On the fourth night in a row, Lan Qiren can no longer contain himself.

“Is this to be your new routine, then?” he asks, clearly disgruntled as the door clicks shut at 8:59.

Lan Wangji is not sure how to answer that.

While Lan Wangji has always kept to a strict schedule of being in bed by 9 o’clock until now, it was never an official rule; it was always just his own preference. Lan Qiren has never specified that he has to be in bed by nine, only that he has to be home. But Lan Wangji knows his uncle has always approved of his stringent habits, and he must be questioning what has driven Lan Wangji to alter them so drastically.

“I am enjoying the end of summer,” he says carefully. “It is pleasant to be outside.”

“Indeed!” says Lan Qiren, somewhat incredulous.

Lan Wangji ducks a quick bow and escapes to the music room before his uncle can ask him to elaborate. He doesn’t want to lie to his uncle, but he doesn’t want to talk about it, either. The thought of discussing Wei Wuxian with Lan Qiren is awkward at best, and at worst, it’s downright unnerving. It doesn’t feel safe, and Lan Wangji is determined to protect his new joy.

It’s not until the last night before the start of school that he slips up.

They are entwined together under a tree, lips sealed together, Lan Wangji’s hands buried in Wei Wuxian’s hair as Wei Wuxian’s hands skate dangerously under the hem of his shirt. It’s just too easy to get lost in each other, and Lan Wangji is long gone by the time he realises his phone is vibrating incessantly in his pocket.

He pulls back finally, a little suddenly, and Wei Wuxian makes a small noise of disappointed surprise. Lan Wangji fishes his phone out of his pocket and freezes.

It is 9:35pm, and he has three missed calls from Lan Qiren.

“Oh shit,” Wei Wuxian says, eyes wide. “Shit!”

Lan Wangji grimaces as his phone starts to go off again, and he swipes it open with a mounting sense of dread.

“Wangji!” His uncle sounds furious.  “Where are you?”

“I’m not far,” he says quickly. “I will be right home.”

“Hurry up, then,” Lan Qiren says before hanging up.

Lan Wangji re-pockets his phone. “I have to go.”

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian winces. “I’m sorry, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji shakes his head. “It’s not your fault.”

“Um, it totally is, though,” Wei Wuxian mumbles.

“I was also… distracted,” Lan Wangji offers.

Wei Wuxian laughs, no longer sheepish. “I would have said ‘inspired’, but to each their own.” He steps forward and cranes his neck up to kiss Lan Wangji’s temple before stepping back.

“Go on,” he says. “Better get out of here.”

“Goodnight, Wei Ying.”

It takes another fifteen minutes before Lan Wangji makes it inside the apartment. Lan Qiren is waiting for him, face like a thundercloud.

“Wangji,” he glares. “Where have you been?”

“At the park.”

“And you what? Lost track of time?”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji says, because it’s technically true.

 “What could possibly be so intriguing in that park?” Lan Qiren narrows his eyes. “Were you alone?”

Lan Wangji swallows. “No.”

“No?” Lan Qiren’s eyebrows shoot up. “Then who was with you?”

Lan Wangji takes a deep breath before replying.

“Wei Wuxian.”

The look on his uncle’s face is almost comical, and if Lan Wangji were capable of finding any part of this funny, he might have laughed internally. Instead, his stomach is twisted into painful knots, anxiety rising like bile in his throat.

“You told me once,” his uncle says, voice like ice, “that he would not be a distraction to you.”

Lan Wangji nods, suffused with guilt.

“What’s changed?”

Lan Wangji stops breathing.

Everything.

Everything’s changed.

“School starts tomorrow,” Lan Qiren continues when Lan Wangji fails to produce an answer. “I expect you to act accordingly and follow the rules of this household. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Uncle,” Lan Wangji says, then hesitates.

“Is there something else?” Lan Qiren snaps.

“I—“ Lan Wangji starts, then stops. Bringing this up just as he’s been caught coming home late is hardly optimal, but since he’s already here…

“I have been meaning to ask your permission to attend evening study at the academy,” he finishes.

Lan Qiren stares at him in disbelief. “You are asking me this now?”

Lan Wangji stands tall and nods.

“Why?”

The thing about evening study, aside from running until 11:00pm at night, is that it’s almost casual. Students return to their classrooms at 6:00pm to study and review, and while there is always a teacher present to supervise, it’s as likely to be a light time of social interaction as much as anything. Study groups are friend groups, and things can get lively; Math Olympics are spirited, good-natured competitions, and card games are not uncommon in the classrooms of the more laid back teachers.

At the encouragement of his uncle, Lan Wangji has never attended, preferring instead to come home and study privately, and he receives musical instruction three times a week. He knows that asking to disrupt that routine is going to shock his uncle, but he’s going to try his luck.

“I would like to utilise the same resources as my classmates,” Lan Wangji says. “I believe it would be beneficial for me to experience the full run of the academy’s services.”

Lan Qiren raises his eyebrows.

“I would like to see how it runs,” he plows on. “For future reference as an administrator.”

Lan Qiren regards him with a frown, and Lan Wangji tries not to shift under his stare. It’s not a lie; it could very well be useful for him to know how evening study works before he may have to facilitate it as a member of the faculty. But Lan Wangji still suffers a small pang of guilt. His only real motivation is to spend more time with Wei Wuxian, and he knows it.

He watches a muscle working in Lan Qiren’s jaw and waits for a reply. It’s another moment before his uncle speaks.

“I will allow it,” he says slowly. “But only on the nights you do not have your music lessons, so you may attend twice a week.” He hardens his glare before continuing. “And not for the first two weeks. For those, you are grounded.”

“Yes, Uncle.” He drops into a quick bow. “I understand.”

“Wangji,” Lan Qiren sighs. “Get to bed. You have classes tomorrow. I hope you are prepared to focus on your studies again.”

“Yes, Uncle,” Lan Wangji repeats. “I am.”

“Goodnight, Wangji.”

“Goodnight, Uncle.”

Lan Wangji prepares for bed, conflicting emotions warring within him. On the one hand, he can count it a happy victory that he’s been permitted to attend evening sessions. On the other hand, he cannot shake his anxiety or the quiet, creeping dread that his uncle’s disapproval of Wei Wuxian would only increase if he knew exactly what kind of a distraction Wei Wuxian really is.   

In the end, hope wins out, and Lan Wangji drifts off to sleep with the comforting anticipation of seeing Wei Wuxian again tomorrow.

---

“I’ve been looking forward to this,” Nie Huaisang says, eyes glinting overtop of his menu.

“Go ahead and get whatever you want,” Wei Wuxian says. “I promised to treat you, and I will.”

It’s the Sunday after their second week of school, and Wei Wuxian is finally taking Nie Huaisang out to lunch in Caiyi town. He’d made Nie Huaisang wait until Lan Wangji was no longer grounded, insisting he had to come too, so Nie Huaisang has dragged Jiang Cheng along, declaring his need for a fourth wheel.  The four of them are crowded into a bustling noodle house where fragrant steam curls against the windows, a stark contrast to the chilly air outside.

“Careful,” Nie Huaisang says. “I have expensive taste.”

“Pretty sure nothing here is going to bankrupt me, so go nuts,” Wei Wuxian says, squinting at the menu. “Looks like the most expensive thing involves dried oysters and century eggs, which doesn’t strike me as your style.”

“You’re right,” Nie Huaisang says. “I’m more of an abalone kind of guy, but lucky for you they don’t have that here. House special beef noodle looks good enough to me.”

They order their soups and a side of salt and pepper chicken bits to share before settling down to business. The four of them have ended up in the same class again, but Nie Huiasang has been absent from most of their lunch breaks thus far. Instead, he has been in and out of the admissions office in various states of panic. Due to some confusion over his final exam marks the previous year, his standing at the academy was under review, but in the end, he’d been cleared after the confusion had been attributed to an administrative glitch. He’d been so relieved he’d cried all over Wei Wuxian, who had vowed to help him out as much as possible this year.

“So, tell me,” Nie Huaisang says. “I’ve had no real gossip for two weeks, and I am dying to catch up. Did you actually manage to stay out of trouble this summer?”

“Yep! I wasn’t grounded even once.” Wei Wuxian grins wickedly at Lan Wangji. “Lan Zhan’s got me beat on that one this time.”

Nie Huaisang gapes. “Seriously? You were grounded? You, Lan Wangji?”

“I broke curfew,” Lan Wangji supplies stiffly.

“I can guess whose fault that was,” Jiang Cheng mutters.

“Guilty as charged,” Wei Wuxian chirps, positively glowing. He nudges Lan Wangji with his shoulder. “I’m distracting!”

Lan Wangji feels his ears flush. Across the table, Jiang Cheng chokes on his tea, coughing loudly and swearing behind his hand. Nie Huaisang pounds on his back before Jiang Cheng swats him away.

“You’re obnoxious,” Jiang Cheng chokes out. “And why do you sound so proud of yourself? Like it’s an accomplishment to be so aggravating. What, are you happy you got him grounded?”

“Of course not,” Wei Wuxian says. He turns to Lan Wangji. “I really am sorry about that.”

“No need,” Lan Wangji says, still flushed. “I told you, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Just let him take credit for it,” Nie Huaisang says. “He clearly wants to, for whatever reason. I’ll count it as one of his misadventures, since apparently he was super boring this summer and has no heroic deeds with which to regale me.”

Wei Wuxian laughs as their food arrives at the table. “Who says I have nothing to talk about? I’ll have you know, I had a very productive summer.”

Nie Huaisang glances knowingly at Lan Wangji. “I’ll bet,” he says. “What did you get up to, then?”

“I confess, some of it is pretty boring,” Wei Wuxian admits. “I spent a lot of time researching universities, actually.”

Nie Huaisang looks surprised. “Don’t you already know where you want to go?”

“I do,” Wei Wuxian confirms. “I’m going to MIT. That hasn’t changed. I was just curious.”

“Need a backup plan?” asks Nie Huaisang.

“Nope,” Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “I’m getting in, no question. But I figured I might as well take a more detailed look at their master’s programs, see what their competitors are offering, that sort of thing.”

“Don’t suppose you happened to stumble across any schools that are extra hungry for international student tuition who might be willing to overlook slightly less ambitious test scores?” Nie Huaisang asks hopefully.

Wei Wuxian grins. “I actually did look into the stats for foreign exchange acceptance across the US. You’d have a good shot at a whole bunch of places. I can forward you what I found.”

“Wei-xiong, you’re a lifesaver!”

Wei Wuxian dips a piece of crispy chicken into his dan dan mian. “Don’t mention it, Nie-xiong. What are friends for, right?”

Lan Wangji chases a piece of pickled mustard greens across his bowl and looks up to study Nie Huaisang. He remembers that Nie Huaisang had called himself Lan Wangji’s ally. He wonders how different that must be from being considered a friend. He wonders what he would call Nie Huaisang.

Nie Huaisang catches him staring and smiles nervously. “What about you, Lan Wangji? Do you know where you’re going for university? I suppose you’re all set to follow your brother into King’s College?”

Lan Wangji nods. “That is what is expected of me, yes.”              

He can feel Wei Wuxian’s eyes on him, and he glances sideways to meet that wide, thoughtful stare. Lan Wangji places a piece of poached cod into Wei Wuxian’s bowl, a silent peace offering, as if to say ‘later’. Wei Wuxian says nothing, just presses their legs together under the table and smears the fish with chili paste before popping it into his mouth.

“That reminds me!” Nie Huaisang perks up. “Did your brother send you any pictures of their epic Scotland adventure? Mine did. Almost makes me want to try for school in the UK myself, just for the travel opportunities.”

“He did,” Lan Wangji confirms. “They appeared to have a good time.”

“That’s an understatement. I don’t think I’ve seen Da-ge smile that much in my entire life. Apparently, Jin Guangyao planned the whole thing. He did all the research, booked all the tours, and just took care of everything.”

“Brother speaks very highly of him,” Lan Wangji agrees. 

“The three of them are really welded at the hip, huh? I feel like I don’t get an update from my brother without getting an update on both your brother and Jin Guangyao, too.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji tentatively agrees. The truth is, he hasn’t heard much from his brother over the summer, and his own thoughts have been largely elsewhere, so he barely noticed. He’s actually been grateful for his brother’s lack of questioning around Wei Wuxian, and he wonders idly if his brother has been similarly distracted by this new friendship with Jin Guangyao. Not that he suspects a romantic attachment, but it does seem to Lan Wangji that both Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue are quite taken with Jin Guangyao.  

“And speaking of the Jins, I have to ask.” Nie Huaisang leans forward on the table. “How’s your sister?”

Jiang Cheng growls and Wei Wuxian groans.

“Why do I get the feeling you already know?” Wei Wuxian whines.

“Maybe I’m just looking for confirmation,” Nie Huaisang smirks.

“Well, fuck you, then,” Jiang Cheng snaps. “Consider it confirmed. That asshole flew back over summer break and made some big dramatic gesture—“

“So many tacky flowers and a fucking teddy bear--!” Wei Wuxian interjects in disgust.

“And now Jiejie is all but engaged,” finishes Jiang Cheng, looking disdainful but resigned.

“You didn’t tell me that,” Lan Wangji says to Wei Wuxian in surprise.

“Because I refuse to acknowledge its validity!” Wei Wuxian bursts out. “It’s just a promise ring. A fucking promise ring! Like they’re twelve! It means there’s plenty time for him to go back to America and run around like a fuckboy and then she can dump him all over again.”

“So that’s why there’s been no official announcement,” Nie Huaisang muses. “A promise ring, really?”

“Pathetic, right?” Wei Wuxian cries. “Ugh. It’s so awful. It’s everything I never wanted. There’s still time. He has the next three years to fuck it up. Jiang Cheng! Why do you look so defeated? I need you with me on this!”

“I’ve given up,” Jiang Cheng grumbles. “I no longer care. I officially want nothing to do with it. Fuck romance and everything about it. Let her dig her own grave. And as for you--” Jiang Cheng abruptly cuts himself off and flushes red with a look toward Lan Wangji. 

Wei Wuxian blinks at him. “As for me what?”

“Never mind,” Jiang Cheng mutters darkly. “Just forget it.”

“You have been very odd lately,” Wei Wuxian frowns. “If you’ve got something to say to me, spit it out.”

“Take the fucking hint and don’t push it, Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng snaps.

“Come on, boys.” Nie Huaisang drops a piece of chicken on top of Jiang Cheng’s thick-cut noodles. “Don’t fight. Not today. Today I am celebrating my re-enrollment and not panicking about suffering through the next two years. Tell me about all the ridiculous guests at the resort.”

Wei Wuxian dutifully launches into a story about a woman who wanted five rooms: one for her, and one for each of her--“Evil! Vicious! Terrifying!”--toy poodles.

Lunch wraps up, and Wei Wuxian pays for Nie Huaisang as Lan Wangji pays for Wei Wuxian. They make their way out the door and part ways for the afternoon, Nie Huaisang waving cheerfully while Jiang Cheng stalks off silently beside him.

“Your brother,” Lan Wangji says as they disappear around a corner. “He is not comfortable with us.”

Wei Wuxian sighs and laces their fingers together. “He’s not good with change. He’s been especially moody since Jiejie got not-engaged, and as for you, well. He’s just bitter because he didn’t see us coming.” Wei Wuxian grins. “He thought you hated me. Or at least, only tolerated me.”

“Hm,” Lan Wangji muses. He supposes he should be thankful he wasn’t as painfully obvious to the rest of the world as he thought he’d been. “I never hated you,” he adds, wanting Wei Wuxian to know that.

“I know,” Wei Wuxian assures him. “You’re not a hateful person.”

They walk in silence for a while, breaths coming out in little clouds.

“Your research this summer,” Lan Wangji begins. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Um, yes, actually,” Wei Wuxian mumbles, sounding nervous.

“You weren’t looking for yourself.” It’s not a question.

“No,” Wei Wuxian sighs. “Not entirely. Don’t be mad, okay?”

Lan Wangji stops to look at him directly. “Why would I be mad?”

“You don’t think it was presumptuous of me?” Wei Wuxian looks tentative. “You don’t think I should just mind my own business? Jiang Cheng is always telling me I don’t know when to butt out.”

“I know you mean well,” Lan Wangji says.

“Do you…” Wei Wuxian swallows. “Do you want to know what I found?”

Lan Wangji nods.

Wei Wuxian takes a deep breath. “I contacted the Berklee College of Music and the New England Conservatory of Music. They both sent me information packages. I brought them back with me, if you want to look at them. The New England Conservatory is the oldest one in the US. Berklee is the biggest in the world.” Wei Wuxian looks up at him, almost shy. “And they’re both in Boston.”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji can feel his whole body softening with warmth.

“MIT also has a music program, and I selfishly looked into that, too,” Wei Wuxian soldiers on. “But you’re so good, you should totally go to an actual music school. MIT is just across the river from both of them.” He steps a little closer, eyes hopeful. “It’d be really easy to see each other. And even more importantly, you’d be doing something you love.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says again. “Thank you.”

“You’ll look at the information packages? You’ll really consider it?” Wei Wuxian’s eyes are shining.

“I will,” Lan Wangji promises. “I spent a lot of time thinking over the summer.” He pauses, choosing his next words carefully. “You make a very strong case for my own happiness, Wei Ying. It would be remiss of me not to listen to you.”

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian presses their clasped hands to his chest. “Remember to think of my poor, weak heart when you say things like that!”

They resume walking, Wei Wuxian swinging their hands lightly. He radiates joy as easily as if he were the sun. Lan Wangji loves him an awful lot.

“Will you tell your uncle?” Wei Wuxian asks softly.

“Yes. But not yet. I want to be absolutely sure of my path before I seek his approval. It will not be easy,” he admits.

Wei Wuxian nods in understanding, giving Lan Wangji’s hand a squeeze.

“I’d really like to go to university with you. I really, really want that,” Wei Wuxian says.

“Mn. I do, too.” Lan Wangji returns the squeeze.

“Promise me you’ll try?”

“I promise, Wei Ying.”

Lan Wangji bathes in the warmth of Wei Wuxian’s answering smile.

They part that evening at the entrance to the Gusu Academy dorms, once Wei Wuxian has ducked inside to retrieve the information packages. He presses them into Lan Wangji’s hands, and Lan Wangji seals his promise with a kiss.

He goes to bed that night with a new conviction and a text from Wei Wuxian.

Wei Ying <3: I believe in you

Chapter Text

“Does your uncle know I’m here this time?” Wei Wuxian asks as they enter the apartment. “I don’t want to give him an aneurysm, or anything.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji confirms. “I sent him a message. He will not be home until almost nine tonight.”

“That’s a relief,” says Wei Wuxian. “He kind of scares me.”

Lan Wangji pauses. “He scares a lot of people,” he finally offers.

“Well, at least I have company, then. So!” Wei Wuxian chirps. “Where’s my present?”

“Shameless,” Lan Wangji says fondly, then motions for Wei Wuxian to follow him down the hall.

Wei Wuxian laughs and trails after him.

It’s October 31^st, and they’ve just finished up a birthday dinner celebration for Wei Wuxian with a gaggle of their classmates. Since it is a Tuesday, most of the group had returned to school for evening session after the meal, but a handful of them had skipped in order to celebrate a little longer. Lan Wangji had endured an hour of karaoke before quietly asking Wei Wuxian if they could sneak away yet, and Wei Wuxian had happily ditched the rest of the crowd immediately.

It’s just past 8 o’clock by the time they enter the music room. There’s a small gift bag sitting on top of the piano, and Wei Wuxian eyes it expectantly until Lan Wangji picks it up and offers it to him. Inside is a blood red cashmere scarf, luxuriously soft and long. Wei Wuxian exclaims appreciatively and strokes the length of it with his hand.

“Lan Zhan, it’s beautiful! Thank you! I’ve been meaning to get a proper scarf since I lost my old ratty one. This is so much nicer than anything else I own!” He drapes it experimentally around his neck. “What do you think?”

“It suits you,” Lan Wangji says. “I am glad you like it.”

“I love it!” Wei Wuxian’s eyes crinkle up at the sides.

“But there is one more thing,” Lan Wangji says, making a move to sit at the piano.

“Oh my God, yes!” Wei Wuxian almost yells. “You’re going to play for me? Oh my God, finally! I am so excited, oh my--”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji admonishes gently. He gestures for Wei Wuxian to sit, then begins to run through a few warm-up exercises as Wei Wuxian scrambles onto the nearby stool that his teachers often use when watching him play.

He lets his fingers fly up and down the keys for a few minutes before settling in and taking a deep breath. Then, he begins to play for real.

The notes of his composition flow forth as smoothly as water, rising slowly like a wave to wash gently over his captive audience. The song yearns, then exalts. It twists through love and adoration, sinuous and serpentine, unfolding into a plea to be seen and heard and held. Here I am, it says, if you would only have me.

The last note lingers before fading into silence, and it’s a full ten seconds before Lan Wangji can find the courage to look up at Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes are glistening, face open with undisguised awe. He looks as vulnerable as Lan Wangji feels.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian whispers, voice wet. “Did you write that?”

Lan Wangji nods, maintaining eye contact.

“Did you write it for me?”

Lan Wangji can barely hear him.  He nods again, holding his breath.

“Oh, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian breathes. “My Lan Zhan. How are you so perfect?”

Suddenly, Wei Wuxian is on the bench beside him, his hands cradling Lan Wangji’s face. Wei Wuxian nuzzles forward, and Lan Wangji lets out the breath he’s been holding as Wei Wuxian kisses his cheeks, his eyelids, and finally, his lips. Lan Wangji leans into the kiss, willing all of his feelings to travel across their point of contact and settle in Wei Wuxian’s heart.

Wei Wuxian draws back a bit, and Lan Wangji almost chases him, but Wei Wuxian speaks softly and Lan Wangji goes still.

“Can I be greedy? Can I ask for just one more thing?”

“What is it?” Lan Wangji prompts, hands stroking up Wei Wuxian’s sides.

“Will you play it for me one more time? I don’t think it will ever sound as perfect as it just did, and I’m so happy that will always be just mine. But Lan Zhan. Will you play it again and let me record you?” He searches Lan Wangji’s face with shimmering, star-struck eyes. His voice is a sweet, plaintive entreaty. “Can I have that? I’ll never play it for another living soul, I promise. Please?”

“If you wish,” Lan Wangji whispers. He cannot deny Wei Wuxian anything when he looks at him so earnestly and speaks with that voice.

“Thank you!” Wei Wuxian’s smile is breathtaking, as always. He springs off the bench and sets himself back on the stool, digging his phone out and swiping the camera open. “Whenever you’re ready, Lan Zhan.”

Once more, Lan Wangji plays, his naked heart bleeding, open and willing exclusively for Wei Wuxian.

A long, reverent moment after the last note disappears, Wei Wuxian is behind him, arms draped forward over Lan Wangji’s shoulders as he rocks them back and forth. He presses a rough, lingering kiss to Lan Wangji’s temple.

“Thank you,” Wei Wuxian murmurs against the shell of his ear. “Thank you, Lan Zhan.”   

“Mn,” Lan Wangji manages, closing his eyes and leaning back into Wei Wuxian’s embrace.

“I love you so much,” Wei Wuxian whispers.

Lan Wangji breathes out a long, shuddering sigh and lets Wei Wuxian tip his head back for a kiss. It’s an awkward angle with Wei Wuxian looming over him, but they make it work, lips and tongues sliding together, Wei Wuxian’s hand resting on Lan Wangji’s throat.

A knock on the door has Wei Wuxian springing backward, and Lan Wangji reels a little before his eyes can focus on his uncle as Lan Qiren opens the door and steps into the music room.

“Wangji,” he says in greeting. He nods at Wei Wuxian, eyes narrowing. “Wei Wuxian.”

“Director Lan,” Wei Wuxian bows. “Thank you for having me again.”

“I wasn’t aware you were musically inclined,” Lan Qiren says somewhat icily, clearly irritated at the lack of any evidence of studying.

“I played the flute in middle school,” Wei Wuxian offers, somewhat glib.

“Indeed.” Lan Qiren doesn’t sound particularly interested or impressed. “Wangji. Be mindful of the time.” 

And with that, he sweeps out of the music room and away. Lan Wangji lets out a breath and tries to slow his racing heart. He looks apologetically at Wei Wuxian, who sighs and shrugs helplessly.

“Walk me out?” he says.

They barely make it outside before Wei Wuxian is throwing himself at Lan Wangji, who catches him easily and seals their mouths together. Wei Wuxian claws at his back, fists his hands in Lan Wangji’s hair, whines into his mouth. Lan Wangji swallows him down, yanking him close by his collar, fisting handfuls of the new scarf.

“Fuck your stupid curfew,” Wei Wuxian pants against his lips. “If we’d been at evening study, I could have kept you until eleven.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to play for you, though,” Lan Wangji points out.

Wei Wuxian groans. “Fine. Look at you, making so much sense.” He drags his mouth up Lan Wangji’s jaw, eliciting a shudder. “So sensible, Er-gege.”

Lan Wangji growls and finds Wei Wuxian’s mouth again, kissing him furiously until they both need to stop and catch their breath. He rests their foreheads together and strokes the sides of Wei Wuxian’s arms. “Happy Birthday, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian lets out a breathless laugh. “Best birthday ever,” he declares.

“Mn,” Lan Wangji kisses him one more time, rough and firm.

“You’re fucking perfect. I fucking adore you.” Wei Wuxian places a wet kiss in the middle of his forehead. “Thank you so much. For everything. Goodnight, Lan Zhan.”

“Goodnight, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian disappears into the falling snow, red scarf trailing behind him.

---

November disappears into December, December into January. The 23^rd rolls around, another Tuesday, and Lan Wangji finds himself enveloped in the folds of a baby blue scarf as Wei Wuxian twines it around his neck.

“Happy Birthday, Lan Zhan! I’m a copycat,” confesses Wei Wuxian. “I wanted us to match.”

“I don’t mind,” Lan Wangji says, content to accept anything Wei Wuxian deigns to give him, and he likes the thought of them matching. The colours are starkly different, but otherwise the scarves are identical.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” Wei Wuxian grins. “It looks good on you. Also, this,” Wei Wuxian says, pressing a data stick into his hand. “Beyonce’s latest album. You’re going to learn a lot from this one.”

“Oh?” Lan Wangji spoons a perfect square of steamed tofu into Wei Wuxian’s rice bowl, making sure the piece of cod drenched in black bean sauce perched on top doesn’t slide off. They are huddled together in the corner of a small restaurant not far from campus, squeezing in a quick meal before evening session. Wei Wuxian had begged him to skip and play birthday hooky with him, but Lan Wangji had declined, knowing that if he did, it would inevitably get back to his uncle. He suspects his teachers are eager to have a chance to talk to the Director, even if it means ratting him out.

“I think maybe you can take some tips from Suga Mama,” Wei Wuxian quips, eyes twinkling.

Lan Wangji gives him a look that could wither a whole forest of healthy trees, but it merely serves to stoke the laughter in Wei Wuxian’s eyes, his wicked smile stretching wider.

“Don’t judge! You haven’t even heard it yet,” Wei Wuxian teases. “I found it very inspiring.”

Lan Wangji huffs at him. It only makes Wei Wuxian giggle.

“I can’t believe it’s almost winter break,” Wei Wuxian muses, deftly snapping the head off a crispy, chili encrusted prawn. “We’ve only got another week and a half to go.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji agrees. The first term has flown by, exams and lectures blurring together until Lan Wangji can barely differentiate between the days and the subjects. His time is measured in moments spent with Wei Wuxian, in the sparse minutes they find together at lunch, in the relaxed hours of evening study every Tuesday and Thursday, in the weekend afternoons when they can steal away on long walks, take trips into Caiyi town, or hole up in Lan Wangji’s music room.

His studies have not been affected; Lan Wangji is still at the top of the class, although Wei Wuxian has now eclipsed him in Chemistry as well. They are both flourishing, and Lan Wangji is satisfied that his uncle has nothing to reproach him with. Lan Qiren has certainly not warmed to Wei Wuxian at all, but since he is mostly absent on the days when Wei Wuxian comes over, they’ve avoided too many more awkward encounters.

Neither one of them is looking forward to a month of separation, but there will be plenty of festivities to distract them both, and Wei Wuxian is at least happily anticipating seeing his sister again.

“I can’t wait to give her a hug and then eat all her food. I love it when she’s home from university. She spoils me rotten, and I intend to take advantage of it,” Wei Wuxian declares proudly.

“You’ve forgiven her for the engagement, then?” Lan Wangji asks, passing Wei Wuxian the prawn he’s just peeled for him. Jiang Yanli is probably the only person on earth who can spoil Wei Wuxian without making Lan Wangji jealous.

“Non-engagement,” Wei Wuxian insists, accepting the prawn with a smile. “And I was never mad at her, just disappointed. I could never be mad at Jiejie. But don’t think I’m not going to light incense and pray for them to break up this year.”

Lan Wangji can think of several things more useful on which to spend a New Year’s incense offering, but he doesn’t comment.

“What about you? Any special plans for the break?” Wei Wuxian serves Lan Wangji more tofu.

“Yes,” Lan Wangji says carefully. “I plan to broach the subject of university with Uncle.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes go wide and searching. “Really? Does that mean you’ve decided where you want to go?” He doesn’t even try to keep the hopefulness out of his voice.

Lan Wangji nods. “I’ve decided that the New England Conservatory would be the best option for what I want to do.”

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian radiates excitement. “I’m so happy! You’re really going for it! I’m so proud of you! Wait, is that condescending? I don’t mean it to be, only that I think what you’re doing is brave and wonderful and just—it’s the right thing to, Lan Zhan, I know it is!”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, impossibly fond.

“He won’t say no, will he? What if he says no?” Wei Wuxian asks, sobering a little.

“He might,” Lan Wangji admits. “But I hope to make a strong argument in favour of my decision. I am not abandoning my future with the academy, so he cannot fail to take that into consideration.”

“He won’t really begrudge you some sort of musical career, will he?” Wei Wuxian searches his face with that open, imploring stare. “What if you’d rather just be a musician or a composer and forget all about the stuffy old board of directors?”

“One step at a time, Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says smoothly.

“So wise and calm, Er-gege,” Wei Wuxian drawls, smile doting. “Well, I can be excited enough for the both of us.” He puts down his chopsticks and reaches across the table to grab Lan Wangji’s free hand and squeezes tightly. “We’re gonna make this happen. You and me, Lan Zhan. Just you and me.”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji breathes. He squeezes back.

They finish up their meal, and Wei Wuxian pays the bill, slapping at Lan Wangji’s hand as he reaches for his wallet.

“Do not fight me on this, Lan Zhan. It’s your birthday, for crying out loud. You can at least let me take care of this one meal,” he argues, piling the cash on the table.

Lan Wangji relents, and they head out, Wei Wuxian scooping up his hand for the brisk walk back to the academy. They arrive with five minutes to spare, and Wei Wuxian bounds into the classroom, towing Lan Wangji behind him. Jiang Cheng looks up at their approach and makes a pained expression at the sight of their matching scarves, which of course just makes Wei Wuxian happier.

Nie Huaisang nods approvingly as he finishes manoeuvring their desks around to face each other.  “Looking sharp, gentlemen.”

“Thanks!” Wei Wuxian chirps as he sheds his coat and gets settled.

Lan Wangji nods silently back, ears slightly flushed as he retrieves his books.  

“What’ll it be tonight, then?” Nie Huaisang asks.

“What do you need?” Wei Wuxian counters. “We’ve got three tests left, and I’ve put together study guides for all of them. Which one do you want to tackle first?”

Jiang Cheng shakes his head. “I can’t believe the king of not studying is actually studying for someone else,”

“I said I’d help, and I will,” Wei Wuxian says, rifling through his stack of notebooks, each one marked with colourful tabs. “You’re gonna kill the exams this year, Nie-xiong.”

“I just need to pass. That’ll be enough for me. I really can’t thank you enough for this, Wei-xiong.” Nie Huaisang accepts the proffered study guide from Wei Wuxian. “You’re going to save me from being the shame of my family.”

“Nah, you’re going to do that yourself. But I’ll be happy to help you do it.”

“I’m serious. You get me through the next year and a half, and I’ll owe you big time. If you ever need a favour, I’m your man.” His eyes wander toward Lan Wangji, and he smiles timidly. “I’ll be your ally.”

Lan Wangji feels a familiar chill, but Wei Wuxian just laughs and pats Nie Huaisang on the arm. “You already are, Nie-xiong.”

The evening rolls on, and Wei Wuxian continues to guide Nie Huaisang, remaining patient whether he is drilling him on his English vocabulary, breaking down a particularly difficult algebra equation, or correcting his notes on prokaryotes. Lan Wangji watches them absently as he reviews his own work; Wei Wuxian is a good teacher, he thinks.

Every once in a while, Wei Wuxian will pull back and lean into Lan Wangji. He’ll press their legs together, or grab a hold of Lan Wangji’s arm and rub his cheek briefly on Lan Wangji’s shoulder. Lan Wangji remains stoic as Wei Wuxian flits away again and goes back to tutoring Nie Huaisang. He feels the lingering warmth of Wei Wuxian’s touches seep into his veins.

They begin to wrap up as the clock edges closer to 11:00pm, and tired students proceed to don coats and gloves and hats to brave the snow outside. They shuffle en masse out the doors, greeted by a chilling gust of wind. Wei Wuxian grabs Lan Wangji’s hand and lingers just beyond the side of the doorway, waiting for the crowd to thin out in front of them.

“Come on, Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng gripes. “Hurry the fuck up.”

“Just go on ahead,” Wei Wuxian calls. “I’ll catch up.”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t have time to protest before Nie Huaisang is turning him by the shoulders and nudging him toward the street, and together they take off toward the dorms.

Wei Wuxian waits until the last student is just a speck rounding the corner before crowding in close to Lan Wangji and wrapping his arms around Lan Wangji’s waist. He nuzzles his nose just behind Lan Wangji’s ear and drops a kiss to the inch of skin that’s still showing above the scarf on Lan Wangji’s neck. 

“I kind of want to walk you home, but you probably won’t let me,” Wei Wuxian murmurs.

“You wouldn’t get home until well after midnight if you did,” Lan Wangji reasons.

“It’d be worth it,” Wei Wuxian grins as he leans back. “I usually don’t fall asleep until 1:00am anyway.”

“You should get home as soon as possible,” Lan Wangji insists. “It’s cold out, Wei Ying.”

“You’d keep me warm!” Wei Wuxian quips, but he relents as Lan Wangji disentangles his arms to hold both of Wei Wuxian’s hands gently.

“Thank you for the birthday wishes.” He strokes his thumbs across the backs of Wei Wuxian’s hands.

“Of course!” Wei Wuxian smiles. “Will you let me extend the festivities a little, since you spent the bulk of today at school? Let’s spend Sunday together because I know you have it free, and it’ll be the last full weekend we have before the break.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji agrees. “I’d like that.”

“Great! Perfect! I can’t wait.” He sneaks a glance in both directions to make sure no one is around, then he closes the distance between them and kisses Lan Wangji soundly on the lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Lan Zhan.”   

Lan Wangji trails his knuckles down Wei Wuxian’s cheek.

“Goodnight, Wei Ying.”

---

Early Sunday afternoon arrives with another fresh layer of snow, and Wei Wuxian comes tumbling out of the dorms and into Lan Wangji’s arms, announcing his intention to stay there for the rest of the day.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, attempting to pry Wei Wuxian loose from where he is welded to Lan Wangji’s chest with his arms latched around his back. “We can’t walk like this.”

Wei Wuxian’s laughter is muffled against Lan Wangji’s chest.

“I will tickle you,” Lan Wangji says with the utmost seriousness.

Wei Wuxian yelps and jumps back a bit, but he’s still smiling, and he re-attaches himself to Lan Wangji’s arm where he remains a warm, comforting weight.

Rather than go south to Caiyi town, they head north into the trails of the mountain behind the academy. Lan Wangji guides Wei Wuxian through the well-worn pathways of the lower hills into the less-traveled areas of the upper ridge. The world is drenched in white, and the sunlight through the trees glitters off of every crystalline surface. They wind their way deeper into the forest, trekking back down on the far side of the ridge into a small valley where a natural cold spring sprawls out before them. The waterfall that feeds it cascades over glistening icicles, babbling gently into the spring, sending soft, soothing ripples over the surface of the pond.

“Wow,” Wei Wuxian breathes out, a small cloud of awe. “This is amazing. Your family owns all of this?”

Lan Wangji nods. “The academy grounds extend as far back as the steepest mountain face. Grandfather opened the lands to the public when the school was completed, but few people make it this far back.”

It’s taken them almost two hours to get this far, and Lan Wangji had been counting on it being deserted, confident that most people avoid the trails this time of year.

 “Good!” Wei Wuxian proclaims. “People are so good at ruining things. I’m glad not many people see this place. It’s really beautiful.”

He crouches down at the edge of the spring, dipping his fingers into the frigid water.

“Ever go swimming in here?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“Only in summer, and even then, the waters are glacial, so it is always freezing.”

“Dare you to jump in?” Wei Wuxian grins wickedly.

“No,” Lan Wangji answers smoothly.

“You gonna dare me to jump in?”

“No,” Lan Wangji says again. “Because you’d do it.”

Wei Wuxian laughs, a sonorous bell that shimmers off every snowflake.

“True,” he muses. “Come take pictures with me instead, then.”

Lan Wangji dutifully lets Wei Wuxian position him by the edge of the spring, angled so that the waterfall is in the background. Wei Wuxian takes several shots, and on the final one, he turns his head at the last second to press a kiss to Lan Wangji’s cheek as he taps the button to capture the image.  He checks the photo with one arm still slung around Lan Wangji’s shoulders, their bodies flush side to side.

Satisfied, Wei Wuxian pockets his phone and turns himself into Lan Wangji, fisting his hands in Lan Wangji’s scarf and reeling him in for a deep, slow kiss. Lan Wangji wraps his arms around Wei Wuxian’s waist and gives himself over to the kiss, diving into the warmth of Wei Wuxian’s mouth, savouring the languid slide of their lips.

Wei Wuxian breaks the kiss but doesn’t pull away, resting their foreheads together.

“I want to stay like this forever,” he sighs, their breaths mingling.

“You’d get cold,” Lan Wangji points out, ever the pragmatist.

Wei Wuxian just shakes his head, their noses brushing together.

“Never cold with you like this,” Wei Wuxian whispers, nestling closer. “You feel like home. Loving you is like coming home.”

Lan Wangji shivers, but not from the cold, and he pulls Wei Wuxian tighter against him, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat.  He doesn’t know how to answer that with words; he doesn’t trust himself to try. Nothing has ever felt as right as this moment, and Lan Wangi clings to Wei Wuxian like he’s the only solid thing left in his universe. He presses a long, firm kiss into Wei Wuxian’s hair, just above his ear, and hopes that Wei Wuxian can feel his overflowing love and gratitude through the contact.

Eventually, Wei Wuxian’s stomach growls loudly, and he pulls back with a joyful, breathless laugh.  

“Trust me to ruin the moment,” he says ruefully. “Come on, Lan Zhan. Let’s go find food.”

They make their way back towards the academy, and by the time they make it into town, it’s almost 5 o’clock, perfect for an early dinner. They order piping hot noodle soups, Wei Wuxian’s broth teeming with bright red chilies, and Lan Wangji’s lips tingle where he kisses him after they’re done.

They stumble back into the apartment around seven and chase away the last of the winter chill with mugs of Ovaltine next to the fireplace in the great room. Once they’re both warmed all the way through, they retire to the music room.  Wei Wuxian lies sprawled out on the floor like a starfish, enjoying the vibrations as Lan Wangji sits and plays at the piano. He plays randomly from memory, familiar segments flowing freely and running together like a river. Wei Wuxian sighs happily as Lan Wangji segues into the song he wrote for him, closing his eyes and feeling every note.

“You never told me the name of this song,” Wei Wuxian says softly as the final notes fade. “What’s it called?”

Lan Wangji hesitates, suddenly shy.

“Hmm?” Wei Wuxian prompts.

After a moment, Lan Wangji replies.

“Wangxian.”

A sweet, serene smile splits Wei Wuxian’s face in half.

“Lan Zhan, you big softie. I love it.” He extends both arms toward Lan Wangji from where he is lying on the floor. “C’mere. I want to make out with you.” He pauses, then adds, “Maybe grope you a little.”

Lan Wangji huffs in amusement, but he goes as bidden, lowering himself to a sitting position beside Wei Wuxian, legs stretched out long in front of him. Wei Wuxian makes grabby hands at him, so he inches closer and leans over to brace his arms on either side of Wei Wuxian’s shoulders. Wei Wuxian’s hands come up to stroke at his sides, and Lan Wangji shivers a little as Wei Wuxian rucks his sweater up, exposing an inch of skin at Lan Wangji’s waistline and running his nimble fingers along it.

He leans down to mouth at Wei Wuxian’s neck, sucking and nipping at the skin there. Wei Wuxian tilts his head back to give him more access and hums his approval, his hands running up and down Lan Wangji’s back. He tries to tug Lan Wangji fully on top of him, but Lan Wangji resists him, maintaining several inches between their torsos as he moves to straddle one of Wei Wuxian’s legs. Wei Wuxian whines a little and nudges at the side of Lan Wangji’s head where he’s still buried in Wei Wuxian’s neck. In response, Lan Wangji slides one hand up to tangle in the hair at the crown of Wei Wuxian’s head, pinning him firmly in place on the ground.  Wei Wuxian’s breath stutters in his throat, a shiver running down his whole body.

Lan Wangji sucks on the juncture of Wei Wuxian’s neck and shoulder, then follows Wei Wuxian’s rapidly quickening pulse up his neck with slow, methodical, open-mouthed kisses. Wei Wuxian groans as Lan Wangji seals his mouth over the sensitive skin under his ear where his throat meets his jaw, and he strains a little against Lan Wangji’s hand in his hair, enough that Lan Wangji tightens his grip slightly and growls into Wei Wuxian’s skin. It only makes Wei Wuxian groan louder, his hands fisting in the fabric of Lan Wangji’s sweater.

Lan Wangji pulls his head back to observe his work. Wei Wuxian is flushed from his collarbones up into his face, a lovely crimson dusting his cheeks underneath his wide, dark eyes. Lan Wangji locks their gazes and then moves his free hand to grip the front of Wei Wuxian’s hip, applying most of his weight there to keep Wei Wuxian fixed in place. Then slowly, deliberately, Lan Wangji drags his knee up to press in between Wei Wuxian’s legs.  

Wei Wuxian lets out a startled cry, eyelids fluttering, but all he can do is tremble, held rigidly in place, breath coming out in ragged little moans. Lan Wangji looms over him, and Wei Wuxian tugs at him with slightly shaky hands. When Lan Wangji continues to resist, Wei Wuxian yanks his sweater up defiantly and slips his hands underneath to paw at Lan Wangji’s chest. Lan Wangji hisses and falters slightly, but he recovers and presses his knee more firmly against Wei Wuxian’s crotch. This time, when Wei Wuxian cries out, Lan Wangji follows the sound down into Wei Wuxian’s mouth, kissing him roughly, catching Wei Wuxian’s bottom lip between his teeth before diving in and claiming him completely.

He lets his hand travel up Wei Wuxian’s body, sliding under his shirt and smoothing over soft skin, the pad of his thumb catching on the peak of a nipple. Hips free, Wei Wuxian surges upward, seeking friction against Lan Wangji’s leg even as his whole body shudders under Lan Wangji’s hand. He brings his own knee up between Lan Wangji’s legs and bucks upward in revenge. Lan Wangji has to release Wei Wuxian’s mouth in order to let out a sound he didn’t know he was capable of making, his hand going slack in Wei Wuxian’s hair to brace himself against the ground.

Wei Wuxian grins against the skin of Lan Wangji’s throat, licking a stripe up toward Lan Wangji’s jaw and nipping at his chin.

“How’s that, Er-gege?” he teases, voice rough.

Lan Wangji can’t find his voice to answer him, and before he realises what’s happening, Wei Wuxian has hooked his leg over Lan Wangji’s hip and toppled him to the floor, switching their positions and settling himself fully on top of Lan Wangji’s body. He props himself up with his hands on Lan Wangji’s chest and then grinds their hips down together, hard.

They both have to stop to moan this time, Wei Wuxian bowed over Lan Wangji’s chest. Lan Wangji’s hands fly to Wei Wuxian’s hips, holding him steady, and this time when Wei Wuxian grinds down, Lan Wangji thrusts up to meet him, thumbs digging into the skin above the waistband of Wei Wuxian’s jeans. A few more thrusts have Lan Wangji running his hands back up under Wei Wuxian’s shirt, clawing lightly at Wei Wuxian’s back before crushing him down by the shoulders. Wei Wuxian’s face is buried in the crook of Lan Wangji’s neck, his breath coming fast and hot against Lan Wangji’s collarbone as they rut against each other.

Lan Wangji bites down hard on the skin of Wei Wuxian’s shoulder where it’s peeking out from the collar of his shirt, and when Wei Wuxian stutters in his movements with a strangled cry, Lan Wangji takes the opportunity to flip them one more time. Wei Wuxian’s back hits the floor with a thud, knocking out what little breath he has left, and Lan Wangji seizes both his hands, pinning both slender wrists above his head with one hand. He splays his other hand flat against Wei Wuxian’s chest, just underneath his throat, thumb and forefinger pressed up against Wei Wuxian’s collarbones, and pushes down hard.

Wei Wuxian goes still, pupils blown wide, a brilliant smile on his lips, his only movement the heaving of his chest under Lan Wangji’s hand. Lan Wangji holds his gaze, breathing down roughly, holding Wei Wuxian in place as he struggles to regain his own self-control.  He can feel Wei Wuxian’s thundering heartbeat underneath his fingertips, can hear his own pulse racing in his ears.

“Lan Zhan, kiss me,” Wei Wuxian breathes out. “Er-gege, please,” he begs.

Slowly, so slowly, Lan Wangji lowers his face to place a reverent kiss to Wei Wuxian’s forehead, then to each of his eyelids, his cheeks, his chin. He teases at the side of Wei Wuxian’s mouth before kissing him fully, agonizingly slow, tongue sweeping gently as Wei Wuxian grants him access and kisses back. He keeps the pace languid, pulling back whenever Wei Wuxian tries to drag him deeper, until he can feel Wei Wuxian relent, relaxing under Lan Wangji’s ministrations until the slide of their mouths is almost lazy, warm and tender and mellow.

He releases Wei Wuxian’s wrists and lets himself fall to the side. He pulls Wei Wuxian with him until the two of them are lying face to face, foreheads pressed together. He finds Wei Wuxian right hand with his left and tangles their fingers together, bringing their joined hands up between their bodies so he can place a kiss to the back of Wei Wuxian’s knuckles. With his right hand, he traces up the side of Wei Wuxian’s body, trailing up his neck and cradling his head, his thumb brushing gently over Wei Wuxian’s earlobe.  Wei Wuxian’s left hand drifts up to settle over Lan Wangji’s heart. The two of them lie like that for an interminable stretch of minutes, breathing each other in, listening to each other’s heartbeats.

When Wei Wuxian breaks the silence, his voice is low and earnest.

“Do you know,” he murmurs, “that I absolutely adore you?”

Lan Wangji squeezes his hand in response.

“Sometimes I feel like I love you so much, I’m going to suffocate under the weight of it. Or burst at the seams from it. I’m so thankful for you.” He grips the fabric over Lan Wangji’s heart. “Lan Zhan, you’re my best thing.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji breathes out. The lump in his throat is back.

“It’s okay,” Wei Wuxian whispers. “You don’t have to say it back.”

Lan Wangji strokes his thumb back and forth across Wei Wuxian’s cheek and struggles with himself.

“Everything,” he manages.

“Hmm?”

“You’re everything,” Lan Wangji repeats. “Everything I never knew I wanted.”

That he’d needed.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes go impossibly soft.

“Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian says his name like a blessing.

“Wei Ying.” It sounds like a prayer.

Wei Wuxian angles his face up to kiss Lan Wangji’s forehead, then nestles closer, bringing their clasped hands against his chest to rest against his heart. Lan Wangji closes his eyes and lets his breathing sync up with Wei Wuxian’s heartbeat. The last light of day, suffused by the snow, fades away beyond the window, and Lan Wangji slips quietly into sleep.

---

“Wangji!”

Lan Wangji jerks awake, startled into consciousness by the sharpness of his uncle’s voice, head snapping up and around to where Lan Qiren is glaring down at him. Lan Wangji blinks rapidly as his uncle’s face comes into focus, livid and contorted into something like shock or rage.

Beside him, Wei Wuxian stirs, still asleep, and Lan Wangji is almost overcome by the panicked urge to cover and protect him. He instinctively tightens his grip on Wei Wuxian’s hand as he pushes himself to a sitting position, body angled unconsciously toward Wei Wuxian even as he keeps his gaze on his uncle. He grips Wei Wuxian’s shoulder with his free hand and gives him a little shake, willing him to wake up and hating that he has to do it.

“Wangji,” his uncle seethes as Wei Wuxian blinks awake, groggy and disoriented. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Lan Wangji swallows.  He has no idea whatsoever. Daring to break eye contact, he flicks his gaze to the clock hanging above the piano.

It’s almost 10 o’clock.

Wei Wuxian is sitting up now, wide-eyed and unnaturally pale.

“You,” Lan Qiren snaps at him. “It’s time for you to go home.”

When Wei Wuxian hesitates, Lan Qiren’s face grows even more livid. “Now,” he says, voice rising almost imperceptibly into a threat.

The two of them scramble to their feet, and Wei Wuxian dashes for the door, hazarding a quick bow before he goes. Lan Wangji follows him into the foyer and holds his coat ready as Wei Wuxian struggles with his boots. He hesitates for only a second before he’s thrusting on his own boots, and he hurries Wei Wuxian out the door and into the elevator even as he hears his uncle angrily calling out to him from within the apartment.

The trip down is silent and pensive, Wei Wuxian anxiously fiddling with his zipper. It’s not until they’re outside that Wei Wuxian turns to him, eyes wide and worried, reaching out to grasp Lan Wangji by the shoulders.

“He’s mad,” Wei Wuxian says. “He looks really, really mad. Lan Zhan…”

Lan Wangji grasps Wei Wuxian’s wrists and holds on tight, wanting to comfort him but feeling entirely too unsettled himself.

“He didn’t know about us,” Wei Wuxian says. It’s not a question.

“No. I don’t know,” Lan Wangjji confesses.

He had assumed, or perhaps just selfishly hoped, that news of their behaviour at school had reached his uncle already. They have never been overly demonstrative with an audience, but Wei Wuxian is no longer shy about holding Lan Wangji’s hand whenever he wants to, which is almost always, and Lan Wangji has noticed more than one teacher glare disapprovingly at them during evening study. Nie Huaisang has even pointed out that the two of them have a fan club; a not insignificant number of girls are often found lurking outside their classroom, and many of them have snuck a picture or two, all of which inevitably seem to circulate online.

Lan Wangji has always avoided talking about Wei Wuxian with his uncle, and now he regrets that decision, feeling distraught. It must show on his face, because Wei Wuxian immediately moves to comfort him.

“It’s okay,” Wei Wuxian soothes. “I haven’t told Uncle Jiang or Auntie Yu, either,” he admits. “I’m not mad at you. I know you’re not ashamed of me. I wouldn’t want to have that conversation with your uncle, either,” he sighs.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji’s voice is thick with apology. “I will talk to him. It will be all right,” he says with a confidence he doesn’t really feel.

“I’m sorry I got you in trouble again,” Wei Wuxian says, sounding morose.

“Not your fault,” Lan Wangji shakes his head. “I will fix this.”

“Hey,” Wei Wuxian says, giving Lan Wangji a little tug. “We’re in this together, okay? You’re not alone anymore.”

For a moment, Lan Wangji’s anxiety is overridden by a warm affection. “I know, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian moves forward and seizes Lan Wangji’s face with both hands, kissing him hard and fast.

“Okay,” Wei Wuxian whispers. “Better go. I love you.”

Lan Wangji kisses him back, a solid, firm press of lips before he turns and flees back into the elevator, pushing the button with a racing heart.

His uncle is waiting for him in the foyer, face dour but no longer twisted. There’s a hardened steeliness about him that Lan Wangji finds more unnerving than rage would have been.  He immediately drops into a bow and holds it.

“I apologise, Uncle.”

“Do you even know what you are apologising for?” Lan Qiren asks, voice low.

“For breaking curfew,” Lan Wangji answers. He refuses to apologise for Wei Wuxian.

“Stand up straight,” his uncle commands, and Lan Wangji rises to meet his eyes.

Lan Qiren is regarding him severely, but he looks contemplative, and the muscles of his jaw are working as if he is literally chewing on his thoughts. Lan Wangji squares his shoulders and stares back, determined not to flinch even as his stomach is turning itself inside out with distress.

“How long did you intend to lie to me?”

Lan Wangji does flinch at that. “I never lied to you, Uncle.”

“Really?” Lan Qiren says, voice like ice. “You’ve told me twice now that Wei Wuxian is not a distraction, and yet here I find you, well past curfew, entangled—“ Lan Qiren spits the word, unable to continue.

“He’s not a distraction,” Lan Wangji protests. “He’s—“

“He is what?” Lan Qiren almost roars, voice rising dangerously.

“He’s—He’s mine.” It comes out sudden and desperate.

“Is he,” Lan Qiren seethes. “Is he indeed.”

Lan Wangji grasps for something to say, tamping down on the panic rising in his throat. This is not how he wanted this conversation to go.

“You’ve broken curfew again by allowing your guest to stay late,” Lan Qiren says, nearly hissing the word ‘guest’. “You left the apartment tonight even though you knew I was trying to speak with you. You lied about the nature of your… relationship with Wei Wuxian. What else have you been keeping from me?”

“I never lied to you, Uncle,” Lan Wangji insists. He thinks guiltily about the university information packages stashed in his desk. Now is definitely not the time. “I thought you already knew,” he tries.

“Rumours!” Lan Qiren barks. “Idle gossip, or so I believed. And now to have it confirmed only by your flagrant disregard for my rules? You disappoint me, Wangji. You disappoint me greatly.”

“I’m sorry, Uncle,” Lan Wangji says, voice sincere. “I want to make amends.”

Lan Qiren narrows his eyes. “And how do you plan to do that?”

“I will accept whatever punishment you deem necessary,” Lan Wangji says.

“And how should I punish you?” Lan Qiren scoffs. “Perhaps I should ground you again? For all the good it did last time.”

Lan Wangji swallows and remains silent.

“Well, I suppose it will have to do for now. For the next three weeks, you are grounded. I expect you home directly after school next week. After that, you will only leave the house if I need to take you with me for New Year’s preparations. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Uncle,” Lan Wangji says, heart clenching. It means he won’t be able to see Wei Wuxian off this time.

“You’re dismissed. Get to bed.”

Lan Wangji bows one more time before shucking his boots off and heading to the bathroom. It doesn’t take him long to get ready for bed, and he tucks himself under the covers with no small amount of discontent. Nothing feels settled, and Lan Wangji isn’t sure what steps he needs to take in order to put things right.

His phone goes off on the nightstand, and he taps open the message from Wei Wuxian.

Wei Ying <3: Are you okay?

I’ve been grounded again. I’ll be fine.

Wei Ying <3: Oh Lan Zhan, that means you’re not okay?

Wei Ying <3: Can I do anything?

Wei Ying <3: Do I need to apologise too?

Wei Ying <3: Please, love, let me help

Wei Ying. I’m fine. I promise. Please go to sleep.

There’s a pause before the next message.

Wei Ying <3: I love you

Lan Wangji’s heart aches.

Wei Ying <3: I need you to know that

Lan Wangji types back just one word:

Everything

---

The next week flies by faster than Lan Wangji ever thought it could, and the Sunday of Wei Wuxian’s departure arrives like a thunderclap, rattling Lan Wangji awake with all the dread of what he’s about to do. He waits until his uncle has left for an early morning appointment before donning his coat and shooting Wei Wuxian a message as he heads out the door.

I’m coming to see you off. Please wait for me, if you can.

Wei Wuxian’s train leaves at 9:00am, and Lan Wangji will have to hurry to make it in time. He rushes onto the platform just as the final boarding announcement for Yunmeng comes over the loudspeakers, desperately scanning the crowd for Wei Wuxian’s face.

“Lan Zhan!”

He whirls toward Wei Wuxian’s voice, turning around just in time to catch him as Wei Wuxian comes flying into his arms. He stumbles back a step before straightening up and holding on tight, supporting Wei Wuxian around the waist as Wei Wuxian’s arms go around his neck. It’s only been a day since school ended, but not being able to see each other on Saturday for a proper goodbye had been torture.

“You made it,” Wei Wuxian breathes against his ear.

“Mn,” Lan Wangji says, squeezing him tighter.

Distantly, Lan Wangji registers Jiang Cheng’s voice, yelling at his brother to get going before he misses the train.

“Shit,” Wei Wuxian exhales. “I really have to—“

“Come on, Wei Wuxian!”

“Lan Zhan—“ Wei Wuxian cuts himself off, surging forward to kiss Lan Wangji. It’s a little messy and very rushed, and Lan Wangji barely has time to respond before Wei Wuxian is pulling away and tearing out of Lan Wangji’s arms, fingers slipping through Lan Wangji’s hands.

Wei Wuxian darts onto the train just as the doors slide shut. The last thing Lan Wangji sees is a flash of his red scarf through the window as the train pulls out, and then he is gone.

Chapter Text

New Year’s preparations are strained. His uncle makes all the arrangements with the restaurant while Lan Wangji busies himself with the cleaning. Since he’s stuck at home for the next two weeks, he figures he might as well do something useful, and the whole apartment gleams with his efforts. Since the New Year is a little later this year, he finishes his confinement a week before the celebrations, which leaves him just enough time to get his hair cut and pick up a new outfit.

Throughout it all, his uncle remains terse and distant, brooking no room for extended conversation, and Lan Wanji despairs of bringing up university. He resolves to wait until after the New Year, when his uncle will have fewer obligations and distractions; Lan Qiren has just received news that Lan Wangji’s grandfather is ill, and Lan Qiren is largely preoccupied with his care.

New Year’s Eve rolls around, and the dinner commences even more sombrely and subdued than usual in the absence of his grandfather. Lan Wangji looks forward to visiting him tomorrow, even just to see how he fares. Wei Wuxian is texting him incessantly, and Lan Wangji checks his phone surreptitiously under the table. He types back a quick message, promising to reply later, feeling his uncle’s glare boring a hole into the side of his head.

Back at home, Lan Wangji scrolls through all the happy pictures as the clock ticks closer to midnight. Jiang Yanli features prominently in many of them, looking radiant and cheerful, her gentle smile welcoming as she presents an especially well-formed dumpling to the camera.

Wei Ying <3: I told her all about you. All about us!

Wei Ying <3: She really wants to meet you!

Lan Wangji agrees. He’d like to meet her properly, too. Hopefully, by next summer his uncle will be well acclimated to the idea of Wei Wuxian, and Lan Wangji will get his permission to visit.

Wei Ying <3: Omg, are you seeing this?! What are they even doing lol

Lan Wangji glances at the TV, where the gala hosts seem to be mired in some sort of embarrassing confusion.

Wei Ying <3: Zhou Tao looks like she wants to murder Li Yong lmao

Lan Wangji watches as the hosts interrupt each other, one after the other, before they all plaster on smiles, and the ten-second countdown commences. Midnight strikes, and Lan Wangji types out a greeting. Wei Wuxian beats him to it by a fraction of a second.

Wei Ying <3: Lan Zhan! Long ma jing shen!

Xin nian kuai le.

Wei Ying <3: Goodbye terrible no good bad awful dog! Hello piggy!

Wei Ying <3: I love you!

Lan Wangji softens, running his thumb over the words. He is absently aware that his uncle is speaking on the phone with his brother, his voice unusually low.

“You are prepared for tomorrow, then?” Lan Qiren asks. “Good. Yes. Goodnight, Xichen.”

Instead of handing the phone off to Lan Wangji, Lan Qiren promptly hangs up. Lan Wangji blinks curiously at him, wondering if perhaps his brother had to go. His uncle settles his gaze on him, looking tired.

“Wangji. Get to bed,” he says. “We leave tomorrow at 8:00am.”

“Yes, Uncle,” Lan Wangji nods, moving to collect his teacup and take it to the kitchen.

Back in his room, Lan Wangji sends his brother a New Year’s greeting, but he doesn’t get anything back. Lan Xichen must be very busy, he thinks.

Wei Ying <3: Going to bed soon?

Yes.

Wei Ying <3: Have a good sleep, Lan Zhan.

Wei Ying <3: Text me tomorrow! <3

I will. Goodnight, Wei Ying.

---

The next morning at 8:00am sharp, Lan Wangji is ready and waiting in the back of the car. His uncle loads a bag into the trunk before climbing into the other side and signaling to the driver. Lan Wangji scrolls through his gallery, deciding which shot of the morning’s sunrise he will send to Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji knows that Wei Wuxian will not be awake for another hour at least, and he’d like Wei Wuxian to wake up to something beautiful.

Lan Wangji stares idly out the window, watching as the buildings flash by. His thoughts elsewhere, it takes him several minutes to register that they are not headed in the direction of his grandfather’s house. Frowning, he turns to face Lan Qiren.

“Uncle, are we not going to visit Grandfather?”

Perhaps his uncle has an errand to run first.

“No,” Lan Qiren says, eyes straight ahead. “You will not be seeing your grandfather today.”

Lan Wangji’s frown deepens.

“Why? Is he too unwell?” The thought is not a happy one, and Lan Wangji feels a twinge of distress.

“He is fine,” Lan Qiren answers smoothly. He doesn’t elaborate.

A quiet alarm bell begins to go off in the back of Lan Wangji’s head.

“Where are we going?” he asks, stomach twisting with the beginnings of dread.

“The airport,” Lan Qiren says briskly. “You have a flight to catch.”

“What?” The dread settles heavily like an anvil in his gut. “Uncle, what do you mean?”

“You will be joining your brother in London,” Lan Qiren declares, still not looking at him. “I have made arrangements for you to attend the academy branch there. You start classes next week.”

“What?” Lan Wangji almost chokes in disbelief, throat constricting painfully. “Uncle, what—“

“You will live with your brother, and you will mind what he says,” his uncle continues. “You will complete your secondary studies at the London academy, and you will do your undergrad in Education at King’s College. I expect you to do your master’s in Educational Administration, as well.”

“Uncle, no—“

“No?” Lan Qiren rounds on him, cutting off his protest and looking him in the eye for the first time since their conversation begun. “You dare to tell me ‘No’ at this moment? Ungrateful child, you forget yourself.”

“Uncle, please,” Lan Wangji tries again, feeling the beginning flicker of panic rising in his throat. “I do not wish to go to London. I am happy here at the academy. I am still at the top of my class, I—“

“Your standing is not relevant to this decision,” his uncle declares. “But your lack of discipline and respect most certainly are. Perhaps you will find it within yourself to reflect on your behaviour under the guidance of your brother, since you no longer listen to me,” Lan Qiren bites out.

“Uncle, if I have been disrespectful, I apologise fully, but please, do not send me away.” Lan Wangji grasps desperately for something more to say. He feels as if he is beginning to drown. “I take full responsibility for my actions up until now, and I promise to abide by all your rules, so please—“

“As you did when you snuck out two weeks ago?”

Lan Wangji goes pale, ice forming in his lungs.

“What kind of a fool do you take me for, Wangji?” His uncle’s voice is as sharp as a knife. “What good are your promises to me?” He takes something out of his inner coat pocket and throws it down on the seat. “What is your word even worth?”

The pamphlet for the New England Conservatory lies crumpled between them.

Lan Wangji feels his stomach drop. He’s starting to feel dizzy. “Uncle, please, I will explain—“

“There is nothing to explain,” Lan Qiren barks. “You think I don’t know what this means? That you were planning to defy me and follow that boy to the United States?”

Lan Wangji snaps his head up, eyes wide and straining. “Uncle…”

“Have you forgotten who you are? What sort of conduct is appropriate? Have you forgotten what you owe to me and all the family?”

Realisation is choking him. Breathing is painful, and the air inside the car is suddenly hot and stifling. He thinks he might be sick.

“This… this is about Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji chokes out. It’s strangled and slightly breathless.

“This is about duty!” Lan Qiren snaps. “This is about your future, and I will not have you compromise it with an inappropriate relationship right when you need to focus the most. You will go to London and you will not return until your studies are complete.”

Lan Wangji shakes his head furiously, even though it makes the world swim. “I can’t, I will not, you can’t—“

“Indeed I can, and you will go,” his uncle vows, voice steely. “The decision is not yours to make. A clearer head than yours was needed to make it. You will do as I say. This infatuation,” Lan Qiren spits the word. “It will not last.”

“No!” Lan Wangji bursts out, voice cracking alongside his heart. “It’s not! Wei Ying is not an infatuation, he is—“

“Do not speak to me in that tone!” Lan Qiren roars. “You dare defy me again? You seek to defend your own foolishness in this matter, but I will not be moved by childish sentiments, and you should not be led by them.”

“No!” His voice doesn’t sound like his own anymore. “Uncle—“

“Would you end up like your father, then?” Lan Qiren spits.

Lan Wangji chokes and recoils as if bitten by a serpent. His breathing stops entirely; no air makes it past the razor-sharp agony in his chest. He feels like he’s just been stabbed.

“Ruled by a fickle heart? Neglecting family and duty in pursuit of your own ruin?” Lan Qiren presses on, driving the knife deeper. “I will not allow you to make that mistake, Wangji.”

The edges of his vision are starting to blur, and Lan Wangji starts breathing again, managing to take short, shaky breaths, each one punctuated by a painful tremor in his heart. He tries to slow down, to take deeper, more careful inhales, but his focus is shredded, and he can only continue to gasp. Dimly, he notes that the car has stopped moving.

Lan Qiren has already exited the vehicle. Lan Wangji feels the trunk open, feels the lurch as his uncle retrieves the bag he’d packed and shuts it again. The door opens beside him, but Lan Wangji remains frozen where he sits, paralyzed with the shame evoked by his uncle’s words. 

“Wangji. Get out of the car.”

One shallow breath.

Two.

Lan Wangji doesn’t move.

“Now, Wangji.”

Slowly, as if through water, Lan Wangji exits the car and stands at the curb. His uncle is before him, the duffel bag in his hand. He motions Lan Wangji ahead, and they pass through the doors of the airport, Lan Wangji moving mechanically. He feels detached, like he’s not in control of his own body. Lan Qiren walks him briskly past the kiosks to arrive outside of security.

“Your cell phone,” Lan Qiren says. “Give it to me.”

Numbly, Lan Wangji produces his phone, and his uncle plucks it out of his hand, replacing it with a new one and pressing Lan Wangji’s passport into his hand alongside it.

“The passcode is 2301. Your ticket information is on there, and you are already checked in,” his uncle says. “Your brother will activate a phone plan for you once you arrive in London.” He thrusts the duffel bag toward Lan Wangji, and Lan Wangji takes it automatically. “You may purchase anything I’ve forgotten after you’ve landed. Now move. You board in just over an hour.”

“Uncle,” Lan Wangji whispers, one last desperate plea. He hears himself speak as if from a great distance.

“Goodbye, Wangji,” His uncle intones solemnly.

Lan Wangji moves robotically through security, still in a state of shock, and he stumbles through the body scan as if he were drunk. He accidentally wanders past his gate twice, circling back once and then again from the other direction. He finally lowers himself into a seat at his gate and tries once more to breathe deeply, willing himself to be calm. It feels like a bad dream.

Struck by a sudden thought, he pulls out his wallet and is immediately dismayed. His uncle has removed any cash, his credit card, and his debit card, and without his phone, he cannot so much as purchase a drink, let alone pay for the train or a cab ride home. He is effectively stuck here, and if he doesn’t get on the plane, what then? Walk home for three hours, just to be ferried back and possibly followed all the way through security and escorted onto the next flight?  He wouldn’t put it past his uncle to do so.

His head is whirling. He will have to go. He will have to regroup in London. He thinks of his brother and feels a violent stab of betrayal. Lan Xichen must have known last night when he did not return Lan Wangji’s greeting.

He taps open the new phone, and dismay spikes again when the device refuses to connect to wifi. He stares helplessly at the empty contacts. He thinks of Wei Wuxian, likely just woken up, sending Lan Wangji a message that will never be answered. His heart constricts with a pang so sharp he doubles over in his seat, fingers fisted in his own shirt, his vision swimming. He keeps his head between his knees until the world stops spinning, and he tries not to be sick. 

His breathing is finally under control, but everything is overly bright, and Lan Wangji is still somewhat numb by the time he is on board and seated in his row. Unable to focus and feeling increasingly nauseated, he closes his eyes and hopes for sleep. It never fully comes, but Lan Wangji barely stirs for the duration of the flight, curling himself in toward the window and letting his thoughts unspool into a steady, forlorn mantra.

Wei Ying, he thinks.

Wei Ying.

---

It is 3:00pm local time when Lan Wangji deplanes in London, still unsettled, lightheaded and sick. He’d refused the meal on the plane, only just managing to keep down a small glass of water, and after almost 13 hours of fitful non-sleep, he is thoroughly exhausted and emotionally spent. He barely has the energy to react when he finally spies his brother in the crowd outside of the arrival gate. Lan Xichen looks tired and worried, face drawn and brow slightly creased as Lan Wangji comes to stand before him.

“Oh, Wangji,” his brother says, expression collapsing into unbearable sympathy.

Lan Wangji doesn’t greet him back. He tightens his grip on his bag and clenches his jaw, willing his face not to twist into something unseemly even as he glares accusingly at Lan Xichen.

“Wangji,” his brother tries again. “I’m so sorry, Wangji.”

“You knew,” Lan Wangji bites out. His hands are shaking ever so slightly where he is gripping his bag.

Lan Xichen sighs. “Of course I knew. I had to know, didn’t I? What would you have had me do?”

“You could have warned me,” Lan Wangji says, willing his voice not to break.

“And then what?” Lan Xichen regards him sadly. “What could you have done? Tried to protest? Run away?”

Lan Wangji swallows, fighting once more against feeling utterly betrayed. He would have argued. He would have refused to get in the car. He would have fought and begged and pleaded. Anything but being tricked onto a plane.

“You must have protested anyway, and what good did it do?” Lan Xichen continues gently. “You know that Uncle is not easily persuaded, and he has made his mind up on this, Wangji. I’m sorry for you, but you must understand. Uncle is acting in your best interests. He is not trying to hurt you.”

Lan Wangji shakes his head, starting to feel frantic all over again. “You don’t understand,” he gets out. “You couldn’t.”

“I know it feels that way, and I know you’ll miss your friends, but—“

“Wei Ying is not my friend!” Lan Wangji bursts out, voice stricken. “He’s--He is…” Lan Wangji trails off, overwhelmed and exhausted.

Everything, he thinks.

Lan Xichen is initially shocked by his outburst, but the look on his face gradually melts into regret as comprehension dawns. He takes a step forward and gently places his hands on Lan Wangji’s shoulders. They have never been physically demonstrative, and the gesture is as forward and intimate as any embrace would have been.

“Oh, Wangji,” he says again, voice thick with sympathy. “I am so very sorry.”

Lan Wangji closes his eyes and tries not to sway, feeling sick and sad and alone.

“You need to rest,” his brother soothes. “Let me take you home.”

Lan Xichen takes his elbow and guides him outside, manoeuvring him past the taxi lineups, through the crowds and into the parking lot. The bitter wind that greets him outside does nothing to alleviate his nausea, and Lan Wangji allows himself to be loaded into the car like a child, face pale and body numb. He barely registers the landscape on the drive back to Lan Xichen’s apartment, eyes fixed mostly on his hands as his empty stomach churns.

Inside the apartment, Lan Xichen leads him to a bedroom and makes him drink a glass of water before gesturing toward the bed.

“Try to get some sleep. If you’d like, I can wake you in a few hours and you can try to eat something? It might help to get you stabilized in this timezone,” Lan Xichen offers kindly.

Lan Wangji shakes his head, eyes on the floor. He doesn’t even want to be in this timezone, he thinks petulantly.

“All right,” his brother says quietly. “I’ll leave you alone for now. Rest, Wangji.”

He sits on the bed as his brother exits the room, the door clicking shut behind him. He lies down slowly, facing the wall and curling up around the pain in his stomach. His thoughts are racing, a jumbled, nervous mess, and he concentrates on unwinding one thread at a time, even as sleep begins to tug at the corners of his mind.

It will be getting close to midnight in Yunmeng by now, and Lan Wangji knows that Wei Wuxian will have spent the whole day trying to get a hold of him. The thought brings him pain, but he wills himself to focus. He will have to find a way to get in contact with him, although he struggles with what he must say. How will he explain everything? How is he supposed to tell Wei Wuxian that he is in London, that he has to stay, and that he won’t be coming home for a very long time? He doesn’t even fully believe it himself yet.

There must be a way. There must be another path. There has to be a way back home, back to peace with his uncle, back to the academy and the comforting routine of his studies and his music. A way back to Wei Wuxian.

Lan Wangji closes his eyes, and exhaustion finally takes him.

---

He wakes up in three hours without his brother’s help, and Lan Xichen brings him dinner on a tray. It’s a mild soup and a bowl of rice, and Lan Wangji manages to swallow half of it before he pushes it away, still a little nauseated. He goes back to bed after that, sleeping fitfully for most of the night before finally rising at 5:00am.

Lan Xichen is already in the kitchen, brewing a strong pot of tea and laying out an assortment of jams and jellies to go along with freshly toasted bread. Ripe, colourful fruit has been sliced up and artfully arrayed on a tray, and there is a small bowl of yogurt in front of each chair. Lan Wangji eyes the spread suspiciously, and his brother shrugs slightly in apology.

“I’ve grown accustomed to a western style breakfast,” he confesses. “But there is leftover soup and rice in the fridge, if you’d prefer, or I can make you some eggs?”

“It’s fine,” Lan Wangji says, trying not to sound as sullen as he feels. He settles himself at the table and selects some strawberry jam, spreading it thinly over the buttered toast.

They eat in silence, and once they are down to just sipping at their second cups of tea, Lan Xichen speaks.

“There are some housekeeping things we should get out of the way today,” he says. “You’ll need to activate your phone, and we need to set you up with a bank account.”

Lan Wangji stares into his tea and says nothing.

“There’s also your uniform,” Lan Xichen continues. “You should try it on to see if you need a fitting, or perhaps a different size. We will stop by the academy tomorrow and see about getting your school ID. Uncle has probably told you, but you start classes next week.”

Lan Wangji looks up and meets his brother’s gaze. “What if I don’t intend to stay?”

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen says gently, a little sadly. “You really do not have a choice.”

“There is always a choice,” Lan Wangji insists. “I want to go home.”

“I know you do,” his brother says, voice soft. “But I’m afraid that is not possible.”

“Please let me borrow your laptop,” Lan Wangji says, ignoring his brother’s statement.

Lan Xichen shakes his head. “I’m afraid you can’t do that, either. Not right now.”

“Why?”

Lan Xichen purses his lips, clearly uncomfortable. “Uncle has stipulated that you are to have no further contact with anyone back home for now.”

“That’s unreasonable,” Lan Wangji protests, tamping down on a spike of anger. “As soon as my phone is activated, I will have access to my email. Why delay the inevitable?”

“Because that is what I have been instructed to do, for now. Your phone plan will be limited. The phone itself is restricted to certain functions.”

“Why are you helping him?” Lan Wangji asks, hurt and desperate. Why aren’t you helping me instead, he wants to scream.

Lan Xichen sighs. “You know why, Wangji.” His eyes are infinitely sad. “Please, I am begging you to see reason and cooperate for now. There may be a time, somewhere down the road, when Uncle will be more amenable to your return, but—“

“I cannot wait that long,” Lan Wangji interjects. “I need to go home now.”

Lan Xichen blinks at him, clearly taken aback. Before yesterday, Lan Wangji has never in his life interrupted his brother, and now he’s done it twice in two days.

“Brother, please,” Lan Wangji entreats him, an honest plea. “Please, be my advocate. Speak to Uncle for me. I am begging you.”

Lan Xichen sighs deeply, regret and sorrow displayed across his face. His brother has always been hugely empathetic, and Lan Wangji’s pain is clearly affecting him. He can only hope that Lan Xichen will take pity on him. It’s the last chance he has.

“All right,” Lan Xichen says. “Come with me today. Get some of the errands done, and I promise I will call him first thing tomorrow.”

Lan Wangji wants to protest. He wants to demand that his brother call his uncle right this instant, but more than anything, he doesn’t want his brother to change his mind, and so he relents and agrees. He thinks of Wei Wuxian, and he wills himself to be patient.

---

The next morning, Lan Xichen keeps his word, calling Lan Qiren as soon as they’ve finished breakfast. He takes the phone into his study and shuts the door, leaving Lan Wangji waiting tensely in the kitchen. It’s the better part of an hour before Lan Xichen returns, face pinched, and offers the phone to Lan Wangji.

“He wants to speak with you,” his brother says, voice carefully neutral.

Lan Wangji accepts the phone and takes a deep breath.

“Uncle,” he says.

“Wangji.” Lan Qiren’s voice is deadly calm. “I will keep this brief.”

Lan Wangji swallows.

“Your brother has informed me that you are still opposed to this new arrangement, and your objections have been noted. However. I will not be moved on this decision, and you would be wise to abide by it.”

Lan Wangji takes a breath to respond but his uncle continues, cutting off his protest before it can begin.

“I will remind you once again that you are a valuable part of this family, and that comes with certain obligations. I have devoted the better part of my life to ensure that you and your brother have been raised with every possible advantage, and that your future is secured.”

Lan Qiren pauses fractionally, tone shifting to become even more solemn.

“You have a legacy to inherit. That legacy was built by your grandfather’s hard work and dedication, and you must work equally hard to uphold it after I no longer can.  This family has cared for you, nurtured you, taught you and raised you to be filial, dutiful, and just. If you choose to forsake that, if you choose to abandon all that has been given to you, then you must know that the family will abandon you as well.”

The shock hits him hard, but not like lightning. It’s gradual, like a glass that’s been knocked off the table, horror and disbelief suspended in the interminable seconds before it hits the ground and shatters.  It’s deathly quiet, and Lan Wangji realises that he stopped breathing some time ago.

“The choice is yours. Do you understand me, Wangji?”

A heartbeat. Maybe two, and Lan Wangji starts breathing again.

“I…” He cannot find his voice.

“Wangji. Do you understand?”

He swallows the rising bile in his throat, and it goes down like razor blades.

“Yes, Uncle.” It’s small and hoarse.

“Very well, then. Goodbye, Wangji.”

And with that, the call disconnects.

---

He doesn’t remember how long he sits, perfectly still, staring at the silent phone in his hands. He doesn’t remember when his brother comes in to retrieve it, or when he is coaxed out of the kitchen chair and into the living room. He vaguely remembers Lan Xichen pressing a glass of water into his hands, but he doesn’t remember drinking it.

His brother tells him that they will postpone today’s outing to the academy until tomorrow, and Lan Wangji nods mechanically, hearing him as if he is underwater. Lan Xichen excuses himself to make another phone call, and Lan Wangji lets his eyes drift toward the window and the wet, grey world outside of it.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” his brother is saying from somewhere near the kitchen. “I won’t be in class today, and I think I’d better stay in tonight. He’s not well.” A Pause. “Yes, of course. Give my apologies to A-Yao.”

Lan Wangji goes to stand at the window, tracking the raindrops down the windowpane as they slither and slide into each other, growing fat before falling off at the edge of the glass. Of course his brother is canceling plans to stay in with him. To take care of him. Because Lan Xichen is his brother, and that’s what brothers do. What would he do without his brother? Without his family? What would he have, if not for them? All the raindrops seem to blur together, and the world outside swims, drenched and hazy and diffused.

A deep and desperate sorrow begins to take root in the crevice of his heart, withering all his conviction, strangling his determination, sending fissures through everything he thought was solid and true and real. That fragile garden, tended with so much trust and hope, is gradually being flooded by despair. The real possibility of disownment is staring him in the face, and Lan Wangji cannot make that choice. The thought of losing his family is absolutely crushing, and even imagining it is enough to make his heart constrict like the tightening of a noose.

And yet.

The thought of Wei Wuxian and his breathtaking smile, the sound of his vibrant laughter, the feeling of his heartbeat under Lan Wangji’s hand. All of it rises like smoke from the smoldering funeral pyre of his dying hope, closing his throat and making his eyes sting. Lan Wangji braces himself against the window, suddenly dizzy from the stabbing pain in his chest, queasy and half destroyed with the thought of what he is about to lose.

What he must choose to give up.

He doesn’t think he can do it. He doesn’t want to do it.

He can’t afford not to.

He is dimly aware that he has collapsed halfway onto the window, his forehead resting against the cool glass with both hands pressed flat above his head. He thinks he hears his brother calling out to him, voice laced with concern, and soon, Lan Xichen is at his side, one hand on Lan Wangji’s back while he takes Lan Wangji’s wrist with the other.

“Are you all right, Wangji?” Lan Xichen feels for his pulse. “Come sit down.”

“Brother.” Lan Wangji turns his head to fix him with a plaintive stare. “Let me use your phone.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Lan Xichen says. “Please, just come and sit down. I’ll get you some more water.”

“Brother. Please.” His eyes are burning. “Please just let me.”

Lan Xichen stares at him, eyes wet with something like pity. Wordlessly, he pries Lan Wangji away from the window and sits him on the edge of the couch. With a sigh, he unlocks his phone and passes it over, grasping Lan Wangji’s hand briefly as he does. He retreats to the kitchen, leaving Lan Wangji alone in the living room.

Lan Wangji fumbles the contacts open and finds Jiang Yanli. He swipes to dial and brings the phone to his ear. He can barely hear it ringing over the pounding of his own heart.

“Hello?” Jiang Yanli’s voice rings like a bell, clear and sweet.

“Hello, Jiang Yanli?” he manages, voice rough but not shaking.

“Yes, this is she. Lan Xichen, is that you?”

“No,” he says. “This is Lan Wangji.”

“Oh!” Surprise echoes through the phone. “Oh my, I wasn’t expecting—I mean, of course I wasn’t. Pleased to meet you, Lan Wangji. Are you looking for my brother?”

“Yes, please,” he says, immediately relieved that he doesn’t have to ask.

“Hold on one moment, I think he’s in his room.” There are some dull noises as Jiang Yanli starts moving. “A-Xian—“

The sound becomes muffled, as if she has covered the microphone.

A moment later, Wei Wuxian’s voice comes on the line.

“Lan Zhan?” He sounds so hopeful.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji chokes. It comes out like a sob.

“Lan Zhan, what’s wrong?” Wei Wuxian’s voice is full of concern. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for days! Are you okay? You sound terrible! What’s going on? Did you lose your phone?”

“I—yes, I don’t have my phone,” he gets out. His heart is throbbing painfully and he’s finding it hard to breathe.

“Oh, thank God, I was so worried!” Wei Wuxian rushes on in relief. “Why didn’t you just email me? Not gonna lie, I may have freaked out a little.”

“I’m sorry.” Breathe, he tells himself.

“It’s okay, I’m not mad or anything, but Lan Zhan, are you okay?” Wei Wuxian’s voice is thick with worry. “You really don’t sound very good. Also, how did you get my sister’s number?”

“I’m calling from my brother’s phone.” His voice still doesn’t shake, but he thinks his hand is trembling.

“Your brother came to visit this year? That’s nice, did he take time off of school?”

“Wei Ying,” he says, watery and strained. “I’m in London.”

“What?” Wei Wuxian exclaims, obviously surprised. “What are you doing in London? I didn’t know you were planning to travel this break. Did you lose your phone on the plane, Lan Zhan?”

“No, Wei Ying, I…” He swallows around broken glass. “It wasn’t planned. Not by me.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian begins, the edges of confusion beginning to leak into his voice. “What’s going on? Why are you in London? Are you okay? Wait, is your brother okay?”

Lan Wangji takes a tremulous breath and wets his dry lips. “He’s fine.”

“And you?” Wei Wuxian’s voice is urgent now. “Lan Zhan, what about you? Tell me you’re okay, Lan Zhan.”

He can’t. He can’t lie to Wei Wuxian.

“Lan Zhan, please! Just tell me what’s wrong! Please, love, you’re killing me.”

Lan Wangji gasps as the fissures in his heart begin to widen and crack.

“Okay, okay,” Wei Wuxian switches gears. “You’re in London. I don’t want you in London. When are you coming back?”

Gathering what little composure he has left, Lan Wangji steels himself and finally produces an answer.

“I’m not coming back.”

There’s a long, resounding pause.

“What?” Wei Wuxian’s voice is small, punched out with disbelief.

“I’m to finish high school here.” Lan Wangji is suddenly eerily calm. “Afterwards, I am to attend King’s College. I will be studying Education.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian sounds short of breath. “Lan Zhan, what are you even saying? What about New England?”

“That path is not open to me,” Lan Wangji says. “It never was,” he adds, realising with a stab of sorrow how doomed he’d been from the beginning.

“Lan Zhan, no! You can’t mean that! What’s gotten into you? What’s changed? And what do you mean, you’re not coming back?” Wei Wuxian’s voice breaks. “You have to come back!”

“Wei Ying. I can’t come back.”  His lungs are filling up with ice water again.

“Of course you can! Why can’t you? Is it your uncle? Did he send you away?” Wei Wuxian sounds angry now. “Why would he do that, you haven’t done anything wrong—“

Wei Wuxian abruptly trails off, and Lan Wangji aches with excruciating grief as realisation settles on the other end of the phone.

“This is because of me.” Wei Wuxian’s voice is tiny and lost. “Isn’t it?”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji begs, desperate to comfort him. “Wei Ying, please don’t--”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian chokes out. “Lan Zhan, don’t lie to me. He doesn’t want you seeing me, does he? I’m a bad influence, is that it? I’ve tainted and corrupted you?” His voice is growing frantic. “I’m trash and I need to stay away from you? I’m ruining all his plans for you because I love you and I want you to be happy?”

“Wei Ying, no,” he tries. “It’s not just about you. It’s about duty, obligation. I have to—“

“Fuck duty!” Wei Wuxian cries. “Fuck obligation! What about you? What about what you want? Lan Zhan, why aren’t you allowed to be happy?”

Lan Wangji can feel himself drowning, can feel his heart crumbling like a fractured sugar cube in the rising water.

“I don’t believe this. I don’t believe you. Lan Zhan, you can’t mean it. You can’t want this,” Wei Wuxian pleads.

“It does not matter what I want,” he says, tired and defeated. “I have to.”

Wei Wuxian makes a sharp, strangled noise of frustration before collecting himself. Lan Wangji can almost picture him dragging a hand impatiently through his hair, face scrunched and brow furrowed. The image torments him with a regretful, hopeless fondness.

He can hear Wei Wuxian take a deep breath, and when he speaks next, his voice is even, but it’s strained with an edge of simmering urgency.

“Lan Zhan, listen to me. You have to fight this. You have a choice. You always have a choice. You can go to music school. You can go with me to Boston. We’ll figure it out, together. Lan Zhan, please.”

“Wei Ying.” It’s a broken, beaten exhalation. “I can’t.”

“Yes you can!” Wei Wuxian all but screams at him. “Why can’t you?”

Wei Wuxian is crying now, and Lan Wangji is paralyzed.

“Why won’t you fight for this?” he cries. “For us? Lan Zhan, aren’t we worth it? Am I—Am I not worth it?”

Wei Wuxian takes a ragged breath, voice coming out smaller and quieter than before.

“Why won’t you fight for me?”

The last of Lan Wangji’s heart shatters, grainy shards carried away as the dam breaks inside of him. 

“Lan Zhan, I love you,” Wei Wuxian pleads.

Lan Wangji is silent.

“I love you,” Wei Wuxian sobs.

The rain against the window is impossibly loud.

“Please, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian begs. “Please, I love you so much.”

“Wei Ying,” He manages, finding his voice at last. He’s never felt so empty or so helpless. “It’s not possible.”

There’s a pause, and then Wei Wuxian makes a small, agonizing sound, like a glass bell breaking against a rock, and then he is weeping openly, small shuddering sobs escaping after every sharp inhale. Each one lands like a jagged knife in the tattered space where Lan Wangji’s heart used to be.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji tries, utterly devastated.

“No,” Wei Wuxian chokes out. “No. Don’t. Not possible?” His voice is ruined. “We’re not possible?”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji tries again, forcing himself to speak past the asphyxiating pain. “You—“

“No! I don’t want to hear it,” Wei Wuxian sobs. “I don’t want to fucking hear it!”

Lan Wangji reels in anguish.

“You can’t. You won’t. Fine. I get it. You just can’t. Fuck it. Fuck you.”

“Wei—“

“Shut up! Just—just get lost!”

It’s like a sword through his gut.

“I’m so sorry,” Lan Wangji gasps.

“I said get lost!” Wei Wuxian’s voice is pure pain. “Stay in London! Don’t ever call me again!”

“Wei Ying!”

The last thing Lan Wangji hears is another broken sob before the connection goes dead. 

A moment passes, and Lan Wangji remains frozen, the phone still poised by his ear. Another moment, and then the edges of the world begin to spark white, and suddenly he is stumbling to his feet and into the bathroom, falling to his knees and heaving up what little breakfast he’d managed to eat this morning. He clutches at his chest, overcome by a piercing sensation so violent he thinks he might pass out, but the room merely swoops with every pulse of agony, and he continues to retch.

Lan Xichen is at his side, his brother’s warm hand stroking steady circles onto his back, but Lan Wangji cannot be calmed, body convulsing, empty stomach heaving as he coughs up bile.  Eventually, there’s nothing left but air, and Lan Wangji’s breath comes far too fast, stuttering painfully in and out of his frozen lungs. Lan Xichen hauls him into a sitting position, drawing his knees up and guiding his head down to rest in between them.

Slowly, a lifetime later, Lan Wangji comes back to himself, hollowed out by grief and exhausted by sorrow. His brother gently lifts him to his feet, and Lan Wangji catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looks like a ghost.

He hasn’t shed a single tear.

Lan Xichen has him rinse his mouth out, and then he guides him back to the bedroom. Lan Wangji lets himself be manhandled into bed, and his brother tucks him in gently before turning out the light, making sure to leave the door open as he exits. Lan Wangji stares at the ceiling, mind blank and body aching. He closes his eyes and prays for sleep.

He thinks, as he drifts off, that if he doesn’t wake up, that might be okay.

---

Awareness filters back in slowly to the sound of rain against the window, and Lan Wangji cracks his eyes open into the dimness of the room. The only available light is seeping in through the open door from the hallway, the evening sky having blanketed the window. He must have slept through the entire day.

He can hear his brother’s voice faintly, speaking in hushed tones. He crawls out of bed and comes to stand in the doorway, straining to listen to the conversation, suddenly anxious that Lan Xichen might have a guest. But it’s only half a conversation, and Lan Wangji realises his brother must be speaking on the phone.

“No, he’s still asleep. We’re all out of aspirin. I need to duck out and get some, but it should be all right.”

A pause.

“It’s too far out of your way, don’t trouble yourself. No, I’m sure. Thank you, A-Yao.”

A few minutes later, Lan Wangji hears the front door open and shut, and then he is alone in the apartment. He wanders aimlessly through the rooms, coming to a halt in the doorway of Lan Xichen’s study. His brother’s laptop is open on the desk, and Lan Wangji sits down in front of it, finding it unlocked.

On impulse, he logs into his email, not sure what he’s hoping to find, but feeling a sickly anticipation nonetheless. There’s one new message from Nie Huaisang with no subject line. He clicks it open and feels his stomach twist pitifully with fresh grief.

I’m still on your side. Please call him.

Attached is Wei Wuxian’s contact information, cell phone number glaring up at him from the screen.

Don’t ever call me again, Wei Wuxian had said. His broken, bleeding voice echoes in Lan Wangji’s ears.

He logs off and moves in a daze, back into the living room where he circles around and runs his fingers over the spines of Lan Xichen’s books in the credenza that sits along the wall opposite the couch. There’s a small cupboard on the lefthand side, and Lan Wangji swings the door open, surprised at what he finds.

Inside is a crystal decanter filled with a dark amber liquor and two heavy looking glasses upon a silver mirrored tray. Lan Wangji is almost certain that his brother does not drink, unless something has changed in the year since he has been at university. Dimly, he recalls that Nie Mingjue is a fan of scotch, and he realises that the alcohol must be here for his benefit. Perhaps Jin Guangyao partakes, as well.

Seized by a sudden destructive urge, Lan Wangji unstoppers the decanter and pours a ludicrously generous amount into one of the glasses. It’s several drams at least, but Lan Wangji tosses it back with a few swift gulps, nearly choking as the liquor sears the back of his throat. Eyes watering, he places the glass down on the shelf and tries not to cough or be sick, feeling flush as his mouth continues to burn in the aftermath.

It’s not long before the room is spinning, the alcohol smoldering like embers in his stomach, flames licking back up his throat. His limbs feel heavy, and his fingers are tingling, afire with pins and needles as he grabs clumsily for the wall, seeking support. He tries to stand perfectly still, but soon he is rocked by a sense of vertigo.

The world shifts, and then he blacks out.

---

This time, as he returns to consciousness, there is a light on in the room. The soft glow from the lamp on the nightstand illuminates his brother where he sits in a chair beside Lan Wangji’s bed. Lan Xichen closes his book and leans anxiously forward as Lan Wangji blinks the haze from his eyes and struggles to sit up.

“How are you feeling?” his brother asks.

Lan Wangji swallows and shakes his head in lieu of an answer. The motion sends a shockwave of pain ricocheting back and forth inside his skull, and he closes his eyes to ride out the accompanying upswell of nausea.

“You really scared me, Wangji,” Lan Xichen says softly. “Please don’t ever do that again.”

Lan Wangji remembers drinking. He remembers feeling lightheaded and dizzy, but he doesn’t remember anything else.

“What did I do?” Lan Wangji rasps, throat constricted and burnt.

Lan Xichen regards him gently, looking impossibly sad.

“You tried to hurt yourself. You succeeded, a little.”

“What?” Lan Wangji casts about for the memory, but it eludes him. Vaguely, he becomes aware of a slight stinging sensation on his chest.

His eyes fall to his right hand, to the small bandages there. One is looped around his first two fingers, and the other sweeps across his palm. He flexes his fingers and feels a dull stab of pain, the kind of soreness that comes from a shallow cut.

“Brother,” he says, suddenly overcome by remorse. “I am sorry.”

“It’s all right, Wangji. Go brush your teeth.” Lan Xichen proffers a brand new toothbrush, still in the wrapper. “You’ll feel better without the aftertaste.”

Lan Wangji accepts the toothbrush and makes his way to the bathroom, squinting at the overly bright vanity lights around the mirror. He takes in his miserable appearance. Pale face, dark sickly under-eye circles, and dry red eyes. He feels another itching sting where his shirt drags against something on his chest, and he gingerly pulls his shirt off to investigate.

There’s a bandage on his chest, right over top of his heart. The skin around the edges is red and irritated, although it doesn’t appear to be a reaction to the adhesive. Rather, the ends of some thin markings extend just past the borders of the dressing, raised and faintly red.

In the last of a series of terrible choices he’s made today, Lan Wangji rips the bandage off.

Underneath is an array of what can only be claw marks. The skin has been rubbed raw, crosshatched in red, and bisecting the whole mess is one straight, smooth, diagonal cut. It’s too shallow to be a real incision, but it’s deep enough, and it looks precise and almost surgical.

Lan Wangji sways on his feet, closing his eyes as memory flashes flinty and cold against the inside of his eyelids. The scrape of nails across his skin. The crystal glass, shattering against the wall. The largest shard angled like a knife within his grasp, poised to carve out that incessant, seeping, pulsing ache.

His eyes fly open and he braces both hands on the counter, breath rattling out in a dry, rickety sigh. He meets his own gaze in the mirror and stares himself down, shock giving way to a deep, relentless shame. He thinks of his father, drunk and dead and not even forty, and his uncle’s words echo mercilessly through his mind. He can see it now, in the depths of his eyes, his own ruin reflected right back at him.

A new kind of sorrow settles over him now. It’s a hollow, aching echo of despair that once howled in agony, but now it whispers softly, like a benign wind whistling through the grass, lulling his nerves to sleep. His body goes numb as his mind goes quiet, and Lan Wangji puts the last of his hope to rest.

He carefully replaces the bandage, brushes his teeth, and holds his own gaze in the mirror before turning off the light.

He knows what he has to do.

---

When Lan Wangji is 17 years old, he yields up his heart to duty and resigns himself to fate.

And if his heart breaks in the process, if it shatters like so much spun glass, then who is to know, and who is to care? He gave it away to a brilliant boy with a radiant smile and a musical laugh, and Lan Wangji doesn’t want it back.

He deletes his email and sets up a new address. He puts his head down and studies like he’s been trained to do. His English is perfect, and so are his grades. He finishes high school at the top of his class, and he gets into King’s College with a scholarship to spare.

His uncle is proud of him.

He meets Jin Guangyao and has dinner with him and Nie Mingjue, but they are really just his brother’s friends. He doesn’t make any of his own.

He doesn’t listen to music on long walks anymore. He doesn’t compose any songs. And if he stops playing any of his instruments, even after Lan Xichen insists on having his violin and his guqin shipped over, who could blame him? No one is listening to him, and his brother doesn’t have a piano, anyway.

He gets his bachelor’s degree. He gets his master’s. He returns to Gusu just in time to bury his grandfather. He doesn’t cry.

He never cries. 

He becomes the Vice Principal at Gusu Academy. He works. He teaches. He keeps a strict sleep schedule.

He moves on to become the Vice President on the board of directors. He works. He no longer teaches. His world shrinks a little more every day.

And if some nights, in the earliest hours of the morning, if he suddenly wakes with the memory of a kiss, a phantom touch against his lips, and he feels the loss of it so acutely that his breath dies in his throat, then no one has to know.

No one will ever have to know.

Chapter Text

February 2019

“Let’s get started, shall we?”

His Uncle’s voice echoes through the nearly empty conference room as he leans slightly toward the console. Lan Wangji sits across the table from him, back straight and expression severe.

“Thank you again for making time during the holidays,” Lan Qiren is saying. “I know this timing is not ideal, but circumstances dictate that we resolve this situation as quickly as possible.”

There is a collective murmur of agreement from all extensions of the conference call.

“No doubt the timing was calculated to hit precisely because of the holidays,” says one disgruntled board member. “When else would everyone be away and distracted?”

“Indeed, it was no coincidence,” Lan Qiren says gravely. “I am told we are not the only organization to have been hit. Nor are we the only school.”

“I suppose that’s a relief. It will help with PR control if we’re not the only ones in the spotlight.”

“That depends entirely on how we choose to proceed with handling this.” Lan Xichen’s voice is clear and steady on the other end of the console. “What’s done is done, but the question is, how do we move forward after being compromised?”

“Are we truly compromised, then?” A woman’s voice breaks in. “Have we lost personal data pertaining to our staff and our students? How much of a breach are we talking about here?”

“The database has not been compromised as such,” Lan Wangji replies. “Rather, it is being held hostage. It will be breached if we do not pay the ransom.”

“The hackers have control of our center domain, and we are currently locked out of our own systems,” Lan Qiren further explains. “In order to regain access and control, we will have to pay.”

Even now, a skeleton crew of technicians is working to lock down all access to the school database, to shut down all networks in hopes of stalling the spread, but Lan Wangji knows that the mainframe is already thoroughly infected with ransomware. The attackers had gained access via a compromised login account, and now the majority of Gusu Academy’s servers are infested with the strain.  

“Pay a ransom?” the woman exclaims. “How much do they want?”

“Unfortunately, they are asking enough that our emergency contingency fund will be entirely wiped out, and then some.” Lan QIren replies. “However, we intend to pay. Whatever the emergency fund does not cover, we will take from last year’s reserves, and if that is still insufficient, I will make up the remainder personally. The primary purpose of this call is to inform the board members of this decision. The secondary purpose is to outline the next steps.”

“To request such a sum, these hackers truly are brazen...”

“Will this affect the next semester? Will the system be operational in time for classes to start?”

“How do we know that none of the data was truly breached?”

“Will such a sum affect the school’s operating budget? Of course, it will come out of an emergency fund, but how will we even replenish it in case of further disasters?”

“And for the Director to have to pay personally--”

“Everyone, please,” Lan Qiren interjects, voice resonating with a request for order. “The decision has been made, and we shall make the payment as swiftly as possible. The question now is how to proceed with the management of the fallout.”

There are disgruntled mutterings of assent throughout the call.

“We will have to ensure there has been no actual breach of sensitive data and scour the system for remnants of the ransomware. And in the meantime, we will have to draft a statement to the public to assure our students and our faculty that the organization remains safe and secure.”

Lan Qiren pauses to take a breath before continuing.

“Lan Xichen, I leave the drafting of the statement up to you. Please have it ready for me by tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, Director Lan,” Lan Xichen replies.

“As to the task of our extensive systems cleanup and future security, I have been informed that our current IT resources may not be up to the task,” Lan Qiren says darkly. “We will need to contract with a third-party consultant to make sure that we are fully in the clear, and it is imperative that we be better fortified against similar attacks in the future. We must be ready to defend against these new level threats if we are to maintain the confidence of our students and their families.”

“Agreed,” says a man with a gruff voice. “Do you have anyone in mind?”

“I do not,” answers Lan Qiren. “Hence, I am open to suggestions. I am requesting the use of all your resources to help in the selection of an appropriate company.”

“If I may, Sir?” says a woman. “Chen Nianru here, head of the alumni association.”

“Go ahead,” says Lan Qiren.

“I’m sure it will surprise no one to hear that I’ve had several inquiries already as to the state of things here at the academy,” Chen Nianru says. “But yesterday I received a timely message from one of our alumni that I believe will be of use to us here.”

“Go on,” says Lan Qiren.

“He gave me the contact information of a data security company and highly recommended we make use of their services. He says they are at the cutting edge of security and encryption technologies, and that we would be remiss not to use them.”

“Oh?” Lan Qiren asks. “What company is this?”

“Stygian Security, Sir.”

Lan Wangji snaps his head up.

“I am not familiar with them, but then, I am unfamiliar with this area in general,” Lan Qiren admits. “Where are they based?”

“The company is American, actually, but they recently obtained a license to operate in China,” Chen Nianru replies. “I believe they are headquartered in Yiling.”

Lan Wangji feels his heart skip a beat.

“And which of our former students made the recommendation?” Lan Qiren wants to know.

“A Nie Huaisang, Sir.”

Lan Wangji’s ears are ringing. He grips the arms of his chair until his knuckles go white.

“Nie Huaisang,” Lan Qiren muses.

Lan Wangji wonders what his uncle is picturing, if he can recall the nervous, squirrelly boy who nearly flunked out in year one of senior secondary. Lan Wangji can see his pale, nervous face as clearly as if it were yesterday.

“Very well,” Lan Qiren says. “Send me the information, and I will review it. If anyone else has a recommendation, please send them in as soon as possible. We shall have to make a decision by Friday.”

“So soon?” The man sounds surprised. “It’s already Wednesday.”

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Lan Qiren replies. “The ransom is due by Friday. As soon as the ransom is paid, we will have access to the system again, and we will need to commence the cleanup operation almost immediately. We must ensure the system is clean before operations can return to normal. Unless anyone else has an order of business? I believe that’s all.”

There are several declarations of agreement around the call, and Lan Qiren adjourns the meeting. The lines click dead, one by one, until the console blinks with the singular light of the conference room. Lan Qiren reaches out to switch it off, and Lan Wangji is left alone in silence with his uncle. He regards Lan Qiren with a furrowed brow, watching his uncle as he collects his notebook and reorganises his briefcase.

“Is there something else, Wangji?” his uncle asks, eyes on his bag.

Lan Wangji swallows. “Uncle, I think you should know,” he begins carefully. “The founder of Stygian Security. He is also one of our alumni.”

“Oh?” Lan Qiren looks up at last. “And who might that be?”

Lan Wangji takes a steadying breath.

“Wei Wuxian.”

Lan Qiren goes perfectly still, but his gaze does not waver. Lan Wangji stares back, silent and unreadable.

“Wei Wuxian,” Lan Qiren repeats slowly, voice low. “I see.”

Lan Wangji holds his gaze. His uncle is the first to look away.

“Well,” Lan Qiren says, briskly zipping up his briefcase. “I promise not to let that cloud my assessment of the company, although I intend to review all options before we contract with anyone.”

“And if he is the best option?” Lan Wangji asks softly.

“Then I will do what’s best for the academy and solicit his services,” Lan Qiren answers, perhaps a little sharply. “I trust there will be no conflict of interest in doing so?”

“No, Uncle,” Lan Wangji answers. “Of course not.”

Lan Qiren nods. “Good. I’ll be going on ahead, then.”

Lan Wangji nods as his uncle takes his leave. He lingers in the empty conference room, fingertips resting on the tabletop, eyes downcast in contemplation. It’s the start of the 13^th year since he’d last seen Wei Wuxian, since the last time he’d heard Wei Wuxian’s voice, broken and desolate on that final, fateful phonecall.  

But Wei Wuxian has always been there, flitting around at the periphery of his awareness. Lan Wangji has tracked Wei Wuxian’s career in snippets and glimpses through the media, latching on to any article that so much as references Stygian Security or Wei Wuxian’s work in AI. Wei Wuxian had shot to fame in the applied mathematics world during his earliest days at MIT, and his notoriety only increased when he pursued his master’s in artificial intelligence. His work is known to be controversial, and these days, he is as famous for inventing particularly virulent malware as he is for defending from it. In one interview, he had described himself as being in a war of attrition with himself.

{“If I’m going to make an unbreakable system, then I might as well see if I can break it myself. There’s always going to be someone or something that’s one step ahead, so it might as well be me.”

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll create something you can’t control?”

“I can control it. I won’t lose to myself.”}

Lan Wangji knows that Wei Wuxian has been home exactly once since he left for university, and that was to attend his sister’s wedding to Jin Zixuan at least six or seven years ago. He was gone back to the US almost as quickly as he had arrived, and no one has seen him in China since then. But now, apparently, his company is establishing a Chinese headquarters in Yiling. Would it be possible to set up an international branch without the presence of the founder and CEO? Lan Wangji doubts it; the company isn’t big enough to delegate that kind of an important venture.

No, he thinks. Wei Wuxian must be in China. And Lan Wangji knows that there is no other company more suitable for the job of re-vamping and fortifying Gusu Academy’s systems than Stygian Security. No one else is more qualified to save them than Wei Wuxian. 

Lan Wangji leans forward a little, letting his fingertips absorb his weight on the table. He feels a little dizzy, a little sick with anticipation. Soon, within days, Wei Wuxian could be sitting in this very conference room. He could be walking the halls of Gusu Academy, as he did just over a decade ago, but this time, the fate of the school, of the Lan family legacy, will rest entirely in his hands.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, lightheaded with remembrance, the last vestiges of a forgotten happiness unfurling around him like smoke. It settles as it always does into a familiar melancholy, blanketing his senses and obscuring the sound of his heart.

Lan Wangji steels himself against a merciless future, and heads out the door.

---

Over the next two days, the board scrambles to research security companies, and in the end, Stygian Security proves to be the best option, just as Lan Wangji feared it would be. Friday whips around and the ransom is paid accordingly, first thing in the morning. Now it is late afternoon, and Lan Wangji sits in the conference room alongside the other board members who have returned early from vacation. Together, they await the arrival of the Stygian Security team, who have been working since access was regained in the morning to assess the total damage and evaluate the system.

Lan Wangji scans the room as the board members begin to get restless. The meeting was scheduled to begin at 4:00pm, and it’s already 4:15pm. Even Lan Qiren is beginning to show the edges of his impatience, pointedly checking his watch even though he sits in full view of the oversized clock on the wall. For his own part, Lan Wangji remains outwardly composed, the picture of gentlemanly stoicism. Internally, his stomach is twisted into anxious knots, and his heart rate has kicked up with anxiety. Every second ticking by seems to reverberate in his chest and rattle his ribcage.

It’s almost half-past four before the sound of footsteps can be heard outside in the hallway, and the door to the conference room swings open to reveal Lan Qiren’s ruffled secretary. She apologetically waves the guests in, bowing as they enter.

The first to arrive is a woman, clad all in black save for a pair of blood red heels to match her scarlet lipstick. She is slight and delicate, but with all the bearing of a queen, regal and imposing in her clear-eyed gaze. She sweeps the room with an imperious look before setting a laptop down at the head of the conference table and hooking it up to the console there.

Wei Wuxian follows her in.

Lan Wangji drinks in the sight of him, his heart in his throat. Wei Wuxian is a little taller, a little broader, impossibly lean and graceful. He’s grown his hair out, enough that it is pulled back into a high ponytail, the ends of which sweep just above the nape of his neck. He’s dressed more like he’s ready for a rock concert than a board meeting, a leather jacket thrown over a white, funnel neck t-shirt paired with slightly weathered, black skinny jeans. His face is sharper, his cheekbones more prominent, and he still moves with that lazy confidence, that effortless ease that borders on arrogance, and Lan Wangji aches at the sight of him.

For a moment, their eyes lock, and Lan Wangji’s heart stutters painfully in his chest, but it’s merely a fraction of a second before Wei Wuxian’s eyes are sliding away to survey the rest of the room, not a hint of tension in his facial expression or the lines of his body. He looks a little bored.

“Welcome to Gusu Academy,” Lan Qiren says, voice clipped. “We were starting to wonder if you were ever going to show up.”

“Welcome back,” Wei Wuxian says smoothly.

Lan Qiren blinks. “Pardon?”

“You mean ‘Welcome back’,” Wei Wuxian repeats. “I graduated from this place, after all.”

“Of course,” Lan Qiren replies stiffly. “How could I forget?”

“I was wondering that myself,” Wei Wuxian says, about as lightly as a razor blade wrapped into whipped cream. “But nevermind. For the sake of those who don’t know me, I am Wei Wuxian, President of Stygian Security.” He gestures politely to the woman typing at the laptop. “This is Wen Qing, Vice President and Senior Project Manager for the operations here at Gusu Academy. She’ll be in charge of all logistics, so she will be your point of contact for updates and communication.”

Wen Qing merely nods at the room, conveying a look of such superiority that the board members nearest to her seem to shrink a little.

“Now,” Wei Wuxian continues, “I’m sure you’re all curious as to the state of your systems, so let’s move right along and dive into it.”

“No need for our introductions, then?” Lan Qiren asks, clearly affronted.  

Wei Wuxian waves a hand dismissively. “If you insist,” he says. “But I’m not going to remember your names, anyway.”

A ripple of shock and incredulity makes its way across the conference table.

“Is he serious?” mutters the board member directly to Wen Qing’s left.

“Always,” Wen Qing says, fingers flying deftly over her keyboard. “He has a terrible memory. Luckily for him, I take impeccable notes. Please feel free to send me a list of your members with their related duties outlined, and I’ll be sure to keep the appropriate parties in the loop.” She hits one final, definitive keystroke, then looks up to scour the room with a commanding glare. “Now, ladies and gentlemen, I suggest we proceed with the agenda, as we are somewhat short on time.”

“Perhaps if you had not been late,” Lan Qiren nearly snaps, “we would have plenty of time left to proceed.”

“On the contrary,” Wei Wuxian cuts in again, voice like steel. “We arrived exactly when we should have, given the extent of what we had to review today. And we have exactly the time we need. It won’t take long, for such a straightforward situation.”

“Straightforward?” asks Chen Nianru. “Is that good news?”

Wen Qing even manages to scoff elegantly.

“Not really, no,” Wei Wuxian drawls. “The situation is straightforward, but the remedy isn’t.”

“And the situation is?” Lan Qiren grits out.

“In layman’s terms?” Wei Wuxian’s eyes are dancing with coldhearted mirth. “You’re screwed.”

There’s a smattering of gasps and exclamations around the table, and Lan Wangji has to fight to tamp down on his own amusement, although outwardly, he remains perfectly expressionless. The air of offended disbelief, of shocked disapproval that radiates from the board members at Wei Wuxian’s audacity is strangely satisfying to Lan Wangji, even as he is slightly embarrassed by it.

“Outrageous,” someone mutters.

“How unprofessional,” another voice agrees.

“This is who is going to get us through this crisis?”

“In non-layman’s terms, then,” Chen Nianru tries again, “what needs to be done? How exactly are we supposed to fix this?”

“The system is old, and too far infected for it to be worth saving. You’re going to need a wholescale overhaul, hardware included, if you want to be operating on a level that’s optimally safe and secure. Think of it like a car accident,” Wei Wuxian offers. “Your system has been totaled. It’s a write-off. You need a new one. Stat.”

“But what about our databases? We were told they haven’t been compromised?”

“They haven’t, insofar as their contents haven’t been pilfered for any nefarious purposes,” Wei Wuxian explains. “But their containers, so to speak, have been eroded to the point that keeping them inside is just asking for the data to be corrupted. And unfortunately, extracting that data is no longer as simple as plugging in a few portable hard drives.”

“It’s not?” Lan Qiren asks, face carefully modulated not to show how angry he’s feeling.

“It’s definitely not,” Wei Wuxian smiles so that his brilliant white teeth are showing. “It’s going to be more like extracting a million broken eggshells from an eggwhite with a pair of needle-nosed tweezers while trying not to break the yolk.”

Lan Qiren grinds his teeth. “You’re certain of this?”

“Absolutely,” Wei Wuxian declares, smile wicked. “If you want to save any of it, it’s going to be quite the process. You can, of course, raze the whole thing to the ground and start over again, but I suspect that would severely damage the records of students who are actively applying to universities, and that wouldn’t go over so well with your tuition-paying base.”

“No, it certainly would not,” Lan Qiren quietly seethes.

“That being said, after the extraction, your hardware upgrade is going to be absolutely crucial,” Wei Wuxian continues. “Your current hardware isn’t even capable of running my programs. If you want this place properly locked down to future cyber threats, the upgrade is non-negotiable.”

“And I suppose you’d source all of that as well?”

“Naturally,” says Wen Qing. “We have our own skilled team of technicians, and we work exclusively with the best vendors in the business. I’ll be overseeing the purchasing and installation of equipment myself, alongside our head hardware technician.”

“And I will oversee the extraction of your databases and see about setting up your new security infrastructure,” Wei Wuxian says. “Which brings us to the heart of our presentation.”

Wen Qing hits a button on her laptop, and the screen at the front of the conference room comes to life with the Stygian Security logo. Another click brings up the image of a tiger, rendered like an old fashioned silk painting.

“The Stygian Tiger Seal,” Wei Wuxian announces. “This is our top tier data security software package, and what we will be recommending for the academy.”

Wen Qing continues to click through the slides as Wei Wuxian elaborates.

“The Tiger Seal is powered by artificial intelligence that analyses domains in real-time, meaning it will stop more threats in minutes than what our competitors take weeks to do through human review. All traffic is monitored through proprietary machine learning algorithms to block emerging threats and DDoS attacks. And our complete cloud management portal allows business owners and IT managers to easily monitor network access and proactively identify any suspicious activity.” 

Another click.

“It also includes file monitoring software that detects file copying, and if enabled, it allows for a notification whenever a file is copied. The user account, and their IP address, is reported. It allows auditing of who is reading, writing, and deleting important files, and who is deleting or moving folders.”

“What sort of training do you offer?” an older man wants to know. “As director of IT, I need to make sure my people are prepared to use your programs.”

“Of course,” Wei Wuxian says, giving the elderly man a completely unsubtle once over. “We offer full, hands-on seminars, either in person with a facilitator or completely online, depending on what kind of experience suits your team best. And what you’re willing to pay for.”

“Speaking of which,” a waspish looking woman at the end of the table interjects, “what is this Tiger Seal going to cost us?”

Wen Qing clicks decisively on her laptop, and a figure flashes across the screen.

“That’s outrageous!” the director of IT splutters. “What, would you have us pay another ransom?”

Wei Wuxian feigns surprise. “I was under the impression the ransom you paid was at least three times that, but perhaps my sources have misled me?”

“That information is private,” Lan Qiren bites out.

“Nothing is private if you know where to look,” Wei Wuxian says, voice cold and sharp as a knife. “Or how to look for it. So my question for you, dearest members of the board, is how well would you like to stay hidden?”

Lan Wangji holds his breath in the silence that follows.

“If you don’t want to pay for the Tiger Seal, there are other options.” Wei Wuxian begins to rattle off possibilities, counting them off on his fingers. “You can choose your level of coverage for asset discovery, vulnerability scanning, cloud configuration checks, threat monitoring, intrusion detection, log collection and monitoring, WAF defense, SOC—choose your own adventure game, really. And that includes dumping me and going with a competitor, but I assure you, it will become a much more terrifying adventure without me along for the ride.”

The room is silent, save for the sound of people shifting uncomfortably in their chairs. Someone coughs, and someone else clears their throat. Lan Wangji hazards a glance around the table, taking in the rankled and defeated board members. He wonders how many of them would have looked down on Wei Wuxian twelve years ago. He wonders how many of them had looked down on him the minute he walked in the room. And he wonders, as Wei Wuxian surveys the room with a harsh, steely gaze, if Wei Wuxian is wondering the exact same thing.

“We understand if you’re hesitant to sign off on the top tier package right away, and so I’ve put together three different options for you,” Wen Qing says, smoothly drawing out a stack of booklets from her briefcase. She takes one off the top and hands it to the person next to her before passing the stack down the table and gesturing for others to do the same.

“Each option can be fully customized within the confines of the price bracket, which you will see outlined in the appendix. If you’re interested, there are short demos online at our website to guide you through an outline of what to expect from our programs. The web address is listed on the front of your booklet, and the demos are under the product menu. But please do let us know if you have any difficulty finding them,” she says, voice tinged with just a hint of condescension.

Lan Wangji looks up to regard her as he takes one of the booklets off the stack. She catches him looking and angles her chin up slightly, eyebrows raised in challenge, and he lets his gaze slide back to Wei Wuxian, who appears to be fiddling with his watch.

“I have a question,” says the same waspish woman as before. “Do these prices include the assessment from today? And the data extraction?”

“No,” Wei Wuxian says, looking up from his watch. “That’s separate. But it does include the hardware upgrade and installation, and the software updates for the next five years, which you can feel free to opt out of, but I wouldn’t recommend it. That’s part of the reason it must seem so high to you.”

“It seems preposterous.”

Wei Wuxian shrugs carelessly. “I could say the same about your tuition, but hey. You get what you pay for, right?”

The whole room seems to bristle at that. Lan Wangji bites the inside of his cheek, feeling the same mix of amusement and embarrassment as before.

“How long do we have to decide?” Lan Qiren wants to know.

“I’ll give you until the end of the holidays,” Wei Wuxian says. “The data extraction should be complete by then. Before then, hopefully, so we’ll just house it on one of our servers until you’ve made up your minds.”

“How generous,” Lan Qiren nearly hisses.

Wei Wuxian shrugs again, almost lazy this time. “Up to you. If you’d like to decide sooner, be my guest. If you’d like to decide you want nothing more to do with me after this meeting, then by all means, we’ll pack up and leave within the hour.” He levels Lan Qiren with an icy stare. “Do not waste my time, Director Lan.”

Lan Wangji watches his uncle as the room falls silent once again. Lan Qiren’s face is livid, and the telltale sign of rage is in the way he works the muscles of his jaw. Lan Wangji is caught between wanting to save face for his uncle and wanting to do nothing of the sort. Here his uncle sits, face to face with Wei Wuxian, completely at his mercy. Lan Wangji feels a pang of grim satisfaction for Wei Wuxian, and the thought of speaking up for his uncle dies in his throat, swallowed by guilt. Lan Wangji has no right to be proud of Wei Wuxian, but in a small corner of his heart, he exalts him nonetheless. 

“I would not wish to do any such thing,” Lan Qiren grits out at last. “We shall review your materials and reconvene on Monday next week. I will have an answer for you no later than Wednesday.”

“Excellent.” Wei Wuxian is all razor-edged cheer. “Do let Wen Qing know as soon as possible so she knows what to start ordering for you.”

“Yes, of course,” Lan Qiren says coolly, having mostly collected himself. “I believe that concludes today’s meeting. I will see you all again on Monday.”

So saying, Lan Qiren stands smoothly from the table and exits the room. The rest of the board members shuffle up and out in some confusion, taken aback by the abruptness of the Director’s exit. Some of them mill about Lan Wangji, pressing him with questions he doesn’t have answers for until eventually, they too give up and exit the room. Before he realises what’s happened, Lan Wangji is suddenly alone with Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian.

Wen Qing is collecting the remaining few booklets back into her briefcase, and Wei Wuxian is bent over near her ear, whispering something that makes the two of them laugh. The sound echoes off the walls of the conference room, and Lan Wangji can swear he feels it ricochet off his heart.

And then, Wei Wuxian stands up and looks at him.

The last of Wei Wuxian’s laughter fades into silence, and the smile on his lips turns almost cruel as he levels Lan Wangji with that flinty, ruthless stare. Lan Wangji remains motionless, like a deer caught in the sights of a wolf. It’s several moments before he can find his voice.

“Wei Wuxian.” It’s a stiff acknowledgment.

“Lan Wangji.” It’s practically a sneer. “Or should I say, Vice Director Lan?”

“If you’d rather,” Lan Wangji replies, gratified that his voice remains level.

“If I’d rather?” Wei Wuxian’s voice is light and deadly. “How terribly formal of you, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji flinches almost imperceptibly, but he can tell by the flash of triumph in Wei Wuxian’s eyes that he caught it, and Lan Wangji steels himself against the agony of being seen. 

Wen Qing glances back and forth between them before snapping her laptop shut and rising to stand beside Wei Wuxian.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” she asks Wei Wuxian. “Since you clearly know each other,” she finishes with just a touch of sarcasm.

Wei Wuxian laughs, a hollow chuckle, not at all musical like earlier. “Wen Qing, this is Lan Wangji. He’s an old classmate.”

Every word cuts like a knife. Lan Wangji nods silently.

“Pleased to meet you, Lan Wangji.” Wen Qing extends her hand. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I haven’t heard anything about you.”

Lan Wangji nods again. He should be relieved, but it hurts just as much as the rest of it, if not a little more. He clasps her outstretched hand and searches for his voice.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” he manages.

Wen Qing smiles at him, a touch thinly, but genuine.  “Maybe you can tell me about Wei Wuxian, instead,” she says slyly.

Before he can even begin to formulate a reply, Wei Wuxian has swept Wen Qing’s laptop into her briefcase and tossed it over his shoulder.

“As much as I’d love to catch up, we have a lot of work to do. Even if it is the holidays, we shouldn’t waste any time preparing for the extraction,” he says, voice light and airy.

Wen Qing snorts.

“All right then,” she says. “Consider my curiosity officially piqued. I’ll catch you next time,” she says to Lan Wangji. “Clearly, you know something about him that he doesn’t want me to know.”

“He knows nothing about me,” Wei Wuxian says dismissively, voice still light but edged with disdain. “Come on, Wen Qing, let’s go find food. I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving,” she says, nodding her farewell to Lan Wangji as the two of them head out into the hallway.

Lan Wangji remains loitering in the conference room until their voices disappear entirely, staring at the spot on the floor where Wei Wuxian had been standing.

It’s over, he thinks. The pain of their initial meeting is over. Everything from this point on shouldn’t be nearly as fraught, he reasons.

And yet, his heart constricts at the memory of the contempt in Wei Wuxian’s voice, the steel in his eyes, the merciless victory when Lan Wangji had flinched, and Lan Wangji dreads their next encounter. He knows that he has not been forgiven. Why should he be? Lan Wangji had abandoned and deserted Wei Wuxian. He had given Wei Wuxian up to oblige his uncle. He had disappointed all their shared hopes, dashed them into ruins while Wei Wuxian had begged him not to do it. What right did he have to forgiveness?

He makes his way home and prepares the same tasteless meal he’s eaten for the last five nights. He eats quickly, clears the table, and does the dishes in a precise, routine manner. Feeling restless and unsatisfied, he cleans the kitchen from top to bottom, scrubbing the non-existent grime from the smooth cupboard surfaces and the imaginary soap scum from the faucet. By the time he’s done, it’s nearly 8:30pm, and Lan Wangji prepares for bed.

He turns the light off at 9:00pm sharp and lies awake, staring at the ceiling. He’s tired, but unsettled. Exhausted, but edgy. He closes his eyes and attempts to meditate, but when that fails him, he rises from the bed and paces into the den.

He flicks on the overhead lamp and hits the dimmer, bringing the light in the room to a low, soothing glow. The silhouette of the piano gleams in the lamplight, soft rays reflecting off the grain in the mahogany. It’s the only thing he’d taken with him when he’d moved out of his uncle’s apartment years ago.

He sits at the bench and lifts the keyboard cover. He stares at the keys, his hands falling back into his lap. It’s been months since he’s played anything at all, and now he feels paralyzed, empty and aching with loss and regret.

After an eternity of contemplating the keys, he shuts the cover again and returns to bed.

---

Monday brings with it the most spirited board meeting Lan Wangji has ever attended. The members are fit to bursting with indignation at Wei Wuxian’s behaviour. Everything from his casual appearance to his blatant lack of manners and respect are dragged out and dissected with more vigor than Lan Wangji had thought they collectively possessed. He remains silent throughout, as does his uncle, and it’s not until the last complaint is finished that either of them speaks.

“And does anyone have any alternatives?” Lan Qiren wants to know.

“We must have reviewed a dozen other companies,” the director of IT complains.

“None of which met the requirements for both the extraction and the infrastructure the way that Stygian Security did,” points out Lan Wangji. “All others were rejected after a fair review.”

“It is worth noting that they have already begun the process of extracting our databases,” Lan Qiren continues. “We’d have to halt their progress and pay them out for hours worked if we cut the contract with them at this point. And who knows what state that might leave us in.”

The general murmur of agreement does nothing to quell the overall feeling of discontent, but logic and Lan Qiren prevail. In the end, they unanimously vote to accept the deal for the Stygian Tiger Seal package, even as some of the older members shake their heads in dismay.

“How are we going to pay for all this?”

 “We shall make do,” Lan Qiren declares. “I will review the budget with the financial team in the morning. We may have to make allowances for how we do things around here this time.”

Lan Wangji turns to regard him, concerned at the tone of his voice. “You don’t mean to suggest fundraising, Director?”

“Perhaps I do,” his uncle answers smoothly. “But that is a discussion for another day. This meeting is adjourned.”

Lan Wangji frowns. Gusu Academy has always operated independently from private donations to avoid undue influence by donors. Its financing comes exclusively from the equity capital it raises. After the principal investment made by Lan Wangji’s grandfather was topped off by the investment of the founding faculty, an option that remains available to new staff as well, the school has never had to operate on debt-based financing.

Free of financial influence from the banks, the government, and overbearing private donors, the academy’s main purpose remains educational in nature, and profit takes a back seat.  While tuition and student fees make up the bulk of the total operating revenue, requiring all investors to also be employees of the school means that all profits are essentially invested right back into the academy. Either the money is going towards paying the staff a fair wage, or it is ensuring that the school’s facilities are up to date. Lan Wangji finds the idea of recruiting outside financial help extremely distasteful; he doesn’t want the academy beholden to any commercial sponsors.

Lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t register right away that Lan Qiren has come around to stand in front of him, and he blinks up at his uncle from where he is still seated at the conference table.

“Wangji,” Lan Qiren says. “I am putting you personally in charge of overseeing this security project. I need your eyes on this while I deal with the financial end of things.”

Lan Wangji feels his stomach churn with dread.

“Uncle, perhaps someone more people-oriented would be better suited to this project,” he tries. Liaising with third parties is hardly his strong suit.

“No. I need someone I trust completely on this. It’s far too delicate a matter to delegate to anyone lower than the family executives, and you are more than capable. It’s time for you to practice your people skills, Wangji,” Lan Qiren says gruffly. 

Lan Wangji thinks he might be sick, but his face remains impassive. “Yes, Uncle.”

Lan Qiren nods his approval. “Contact Miss Wen and let her know what we’ve decided, then help them get set up in the teacher’s lounge. There will be plenty of room for them to work there, and it is closer to the server room than the student lounge they’ve been operating out of until now.”

It will also serve the dual purpose of keeping Wei Wuxian clear of most of the board members, Lan Wangji thinks, as most of their business is conducted in the office buildings on the west side of campus, and the teacher’s lounge is in the east wing. He breathes a small sigh of relief at that; he won’t have to go out of his way to avoid Wei Wuxian. Since all communication is supposed to flow through Wen Qing, perhaps he can avoid Wei Wuxian all together. A slim hope, but still a possibility.  

Not for today, though, as he finds himself leading Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian down the hall and into the teacher’s lounge, Wen Qing’s heels clicking along the linoleum as Wei Wuxian whistles an idle tune. Several members of the faculty look up as they enter, and Wei Wuxian graces them all with one of his brilliant smiles, although Lan Wangji notes that there’s something cold about it. Lan Wangji guides the two of them to a group of vacant desks in the far corner.

“I hope this is sufficient space?” he asks.

“I think it will suffice,” says Wen Qing. “We’ll be having a few more team members arrive in the coming days. The hardware team is scheduled to arrive once the equipment we’ve ordered is onsite, but most of their work will happen in the server room. And as for the software team, well.” She glances at where Wei Wuxian is spreading out what looks like the entire contents of his overstuffed bag. “I’ll do my best to contain the chaos.”

“This one is free too, right?” Wei Wuxian gestures to a desk on his left and tosses a couple of notebooks on it before getting a response. “No one had better touch any of this once I get it all set up.”

Lan Wangji feels the pricklings of an old fondness, but he tamps it down with practiced restraint. “The staff is under strict instructions not to interrupt you or interfere with your work.”

“Good,” Wei Wuxian says, head angled to see into the bottom of his bag. “Although I won’t say no to anyone who wants to show me how to get a coffee around here.”

“Coffee machine and assorted supplies are just through that door in the kitchen,” Lan Wangji gestures to an entryway across the room. “You have my number if there is anything else you need, and in the event that you can’t reach me, I’d like to introduce you to your faculty contact.”

Lan Wangji turns to where a young woman has just entered the lounge, looking a little flushed, clearly having just come inside from the snow. The cold air has left her lips and cheeks an enticing shade of pink, and she makes a very pretty picture as she sheds her coat and slings it over one arm, heading toward them with a smile.

“My apologies, Vice Director, I didn’t mean to be late. Some last minute inquiries from eager students kept me back an extra couple of minutes. I hope you weren’t waiting long?”

“I didn’t realise we were waiting at all,” Wei Wuxian cuts in smoothly, smile guileless and charming as he perches casually on the edge of the desk. “Although it looks to be worth the wait.”

The young woman blinks at him, possibly going a little bit pinker.

“Luo Qingyang, this is Wei Wuxian,” Lan Wangji says tightly, trying to ignore the way his stomach is twisting. “And this is Wen Qing, from Stygian Security. This is Luo Qingyang, our philosophy teacher.”

“Pleased to meet you!” Luo Qingyang reaches out to shake Wen Qing’s hand with a slight bow. It takes her a little longer to shake Wei Wuxian’s hand; his smile goes a little lopsided, and she forgets to let go after the first shake. Embarrassed, she draws her hand back after the third swing.

“I don’t remember having a philosophy teacher when I was a student here!” Wei Wuxian exclaims. “Since when did Gusu Academy encourage philosophical thought?”

“Since always!” Luo Qingyang cries indignantly. “I teach Critical Thinking and Introduction to Philosophy as third-year high school electives, and I have since the Vice Director hired me.”

Wei Wuxian blinks in surprise. “Lan Zhan hired you?”

“Back when Vice Director was the Vice Principal, yes,” Luo Qingyang says as if it should have been obvious. “The Vice Director has done more to modernize the curriculum than any other administrator in years.”

“Well,” Wei Wuxian seems caught off guard, but he recovers quickly. “I’m glad to hear the curriculum isn’t as outdated as the security,” he says lightly.

“It’s not outdated at all!” Luo Qingyang is indignant again. “I was this close to giving up on teaching abroad and going back to America, but then I was scouted by Vice Director Lan, and here I am. I love it here.”

“You’re from America?” Wei Wuxian perks up. “Whereabouts? I went to university in Boston, but we established the company on the west coast.”

“California! I grew up in the Bay Area of San Francisco.”

“No way,” Wei Wuxian’s smile grows wide and genuine. “I actually started out in San Francisco, but I moved up to Seattle after the first year. I confess, I didn’t much like San Francisco.”

“Too much of a tech rat race?” Luo Qingyang asks sympathetically.

Wei Wuxian laughs, clear and joyful. “You could say that,” he smiles.

Luo Qingyang nods in understanding. “It’s not for everyone. I don’t know if I could go back, myself. Definitely couldn’t afford it,” she laughs.

“Mmm,” Wei Wuxian muses, eyes dancing. “Nice place to visit, though. Maybe we’ll both find our way back there and you can show me around one day?”

“Maybe,” she grins a little slyly. “Let’s see about showing you around here first, shall we?”

Wei Wuxian’s smile is rakish. “I hear there is a coffee machine around here somewhere. Care to show me how it works?”

Luo Qingyang laughs freely. “Sure thing,” she smiles. “Would you like to come along?” she offers to Wen Qing. 

“I’m good, thanks,” Wen Qing says drily.

Luo Qingyang’s eyes crinkle prettily at the corners as she smiles back. “Well then, I’ll take them from here, Vice Director Lan.”

Lan Wangji nods at her, feeling vaguely sick and entirely superfluous. Together, Luo Qingyang and Wei Wuxian head for the kitchen, side by side, hands drifting just a little too close together. Lan Wangji tries not to stare after them, but his eyes are glued to where their fingers are almost touching.

When he turns back, Wen Qing is watching him appraisingly.

“Don’t suppose you have time to chat right now, do you?” she asks, one elegant eyebrow arched in question.

“I’m afraid not,” he replies sincerely. He has another meeting in ten minutes.

“Pity,” she muses. “I’ll get to you eventually,” she says. It sounds like a promise.

Lan Wangji ducks a fractional bow and takes his leave, turning sharply on his heel and heading back toward his office. He walks quickly and hopes the tension in his stomach will unravel as he moves. It shouldn’t hurt this much, he tells himself. Wei Wuxian has always been a flirt, and Lan Wangji has no claim on him.

Once, maybe, it would have been different. Once, they were so open, so similar, their feelings so in unison that it was hard to tell one heartbeat from the other. But now, they are like strangers, moving in opposite directions, never to become reacquainted.

The claims of affection belong to the past, and Lan Wangji is resigned to leave them there. Tender, watercolour dreams are not for him.

Not anymore.

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji stares at the invitation in his hand and vaguely considers begging his uncle to reconsider.

“I know I was originally scheduled to go, since the invitation came directly from Jin Guangshan, but I’m simply not at liberty to be leaving the academy at a time like this. You will go in my stead,” Lan Qiren says briskly.

“What of the security project?” Lan Wangji tries.

Lan Qiren pauses in his paperwork to look up at him. “I was under the impression they’ve reached somewhat of a lull? The hardware shipment has yet to arrive, and Wei Wuxian is managing the data extraction team remotely at this time, is he not?”

“Yes, Uncle,” Lan Wangji replies. “I mention it only as a project that requires ongoing attention if the situation were to change.”

“I think that unlikely. You’ll only be gone for one night, and not even a full day on either end. No, you must attend. Given the longstanding relationship between our two families, we must have a representative.” Lan Qiren returns to signing documents. “I know this is not the sort of thing you enjoy, but it is as I said before. It is time to work on your people skills, Wangji.”

“Yes, Uncle,” Lan Wangji says again. He knows he is being dismissed, and so, he takes his leave.

He will have to get organised quickly if he is to be leaving for Lanling tomorrow. At least the travel preparations are already in order; the hotel was booked well in advance, and now all he has to do is call the airline and switch the ticket from his uncle’s name to his own. He fingers the edges of the invitation and frowns. He will have to prepare a red envelope, as well.

He sends his best suit to be pressed and goes about the rest of the preparations with a heavy heart. While a 100 day celebration is a joyful occasion for most, Lan Wangji finds little to celebrate at the prospect of being trapped in Lanling for a night with Wei Wuxian and his family.  The invitation had specified Lan Qiren as head of the Lan family, an honoured guest of Jin Guangshan for the celebration of his first grandson, but now Lan Wangji must attend as his substitute.

He tries not to dwell on his unfortunate luck. Even now, Wei Wuxian is in Lanling with his sister, and Lan Wangji will have to spend a night packed in amongst strangers while he tries to avoid him. He won’t be able to avoid his sister, but that should be an easy interaction. The few times he has met Jiang Yanli in the past, she has been eloquent and gracious. Jiang Cheng, on the other hand, has been borderline discourteous in the handful of exchanges they’ve had at society events over the years, and Lan Wangi hopes to avoid him as well.

The flight to Lanling is not a long one, clocking in at just under an hour, and Lan Wangji deplanes in the late afternoon and heads straight for his hotel. By 5:00pm, he’s in a cab and on his way to the Jins' flagship hotel, Koi Tower, in the heart of Lanling.

The banquet hall is decked in red. Dozens of tables sport artfully folded red napkins at each place setting, and the centre of each table boasts a golden bowl containing an odd number of brightly dyed red eggs. Delicate dishes containing an assortment of candied ginger are arranged in front of each seat, and the champagne is already flowing when Lan Wangji makes his way through the door and politely refuses the proffered glass.

He makes his way to the gift table where the proud parents are greeting their multitude of guests. He bows to them both and presents Jin Zixuan with the red envelope.

“Thank you,” Jin Zixuan says. “We’re so glad you could make it.”

“My uncle sends his apologies that he was unable to attend,” Lan Wangji says.

“I’m so happy you could come in his place,” says Jiang Yanli. “It’s lovely to see you again, Lan Wangji.”

Lan Wangji nods in acknowledgment.

“Jiejie!”

Lan Wangji freezes at the sound of that voice.

He turns to see Wei Wuxian and a small party of people arrive. Among them are Jiang Cheng, Wen Qing, and a young man that Lan Wangji doesn’t recognise. He’s too late to politely extract himself by the time the group is upon them, so Lan Wangji sets his jaw and prepares to endure the introductions.

“A-Xian!” Jiang Yanli exclaims happily as Wei Wuxian places a kiss on her cheek. “I’m so glad you’re here, and you did bring your friends! Welcome, welcome, all of you.”

Wei Wuxian graces his sister with the warmest, most genuine smile Lan Wangji has seen on his face since they were teenagers. “Jiejie, Jin Zixuan, this is Wen Qing, my Vice President. And this is Wen Ning, her brother and the head of our hardware team.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Jiang Yanli says, shifting the baby in her arms to incline her body in a small bow. “I’m so glad you could come, I’ve been dying to meet you both. I’ve heard so much about you! Thank you for taking care of my brother.”

“You’re very welcome, of course,” Wen Qing says smoothly. “I’d say it was no trouble, but I’m sure you’d know that was a lie.”

Jiang Yanli laughs lightly while Wei Wuxian just grins. “Of course,” Jiang Yanli smiles. “Our A-Xian has always been a bit of a handful.”

Jiang Cheng snorts. “That’s the understatement of the year, Jiejie. You can thank all three of us for making sure he was even on time today.”

Jiang Cheng makes his way forward and kisses Jiang Yanli on the cheek before coolly greeting Jin Zixuan. He draws back and throws a nasty look in Lan Wangji’s direction.

“Lan Wangji,” he says curtly. “I suppose you’re here in lieu of your uncle?”

“Jiang Wanyin.” Lan Wangji nods slightly in confirmation. “He is very sorry he could not attend.”

“Well.” Jiang Cheng gives him a disdainful once over. “I hope you enjoy yourself.”

Wen Qing steps forward and gracefully inclines her head in greeting. “How nice to see you here, Vice Director Lan.” She extends her hand, and Lan Wangji takes it, absently noting that Jiang Cheng seems to colour as he does so. 

“I suppose I should thank your uncle for being unable to attend,” Wen Qing continues. “Maybe I will finally get the chance to talk to you.”

“It would be my pleasure,” he replies. It’s not even a lie to say so, although he knows he will have to steer the conversation away from Wei Wuxian if it comes to it.

“May I introduce my younger brother?” Wen Qing turns to indicate the quiet young man hovering a little bit behind her. “This is Wen Ning. He’s our head hardware technician. He and his team will be doing your installation at the academy.”

Lan Wangji extends his hand, and Wen Ning darts forward to accept it, ducking into a deeper bow than necessary as they shake hands.

“Pleased to meet you, Vice Director Lan,” Wen Ning says, voice quiet and a little unsteady. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Likewise,” says Lan Wangji. He looks between the two siblings and notes the small similarities. They have the same eyes, but where Wen Qing is regal and commanding, austere and intimidating, Wen Ning appears soft and eager to please, nervous and timid. There’s something melancholy about him, something intangible that seems to linger around him like a cloud. Lan Wangji recognises it almost instantly as grief.

“Have you two greeted Mother and Father yet?” Jiang Yanli is asking her brothers.

Jiang Cheng shakes his head as Wei Wuxian grimaces. “We came straight to you,” Jiang Cheng explains.

“I was hoping to get through dinner first,” Wei Wuxian grouses. “Although I suppose I should put Auntie Yu out of her happy anticipation and back into misery where she belongs in relation to me,” he says, somewhat glib.

“A-Xian, really,” Jiang Yanli reprimands him gently. “Mother is thrilled you’re back and will be glad to see you again. She’ll be happy to see you happy.”

“She’d be happiest to see me married off, and you know it.” He looks at Wen Qing. “I’ll bet you next month’s profit share she thinks you’re my date. She’s been watching you hopefully like a hawk since we got here.”

Wen Qing arches one perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him. “So you’re avoiding the inevitable because you don’t want to dash her hopes, or you’re afraid she’ll scold you for not bringing a real date?”

“Both,” Wei Wuxian groans. “All I hear from her these days is whose son or daughter is getting married now, and I’d better get a move on, etc. Now that I’m back, she’s threatening to set up a meeting with a matchmaker. I’m just going to have to disappoint her again.”

“Well, she’s right,” Jin Zixuan offers, ever so helpful. “You’re at that age, and you’re not getting any younger.”

“Yes, thank you,” Wei Wuxian says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’ve never heard anyone say anything like that before.”

“No prospects back home, then?” Jiang Cheng says, clearly enjoying his brother’s suffering.

“No,” Wei Wuxian declares, waving dismissively. “I’m married to my work, and we all know how unattractive that is.”

Lan Wangji remains impassive, but the words sting a little. He wonders if they were intended to. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Jiang Yanli watching him, but when he turns to look at her, she averts her eyes. She seems about to say something, perhaps to change the subject, but her husband beats her to it, unwilling to drop the thread of conversation just yet.

“Well, what better time to relax and meet some new people, now that you’re back home?”

“Right,” Wei Wuxian says, sarcasm back in his voice. “Because between setting up a new headquarters, executing the project at the academy, and taking on new clients daily, I have all the time in the world to think about dating.”

“Don’t take on so many new clients, then,” Jin Zixuan presses. “You’re your own boss. Setting your own schedule is one of the perks,” he says, as if imparting wisdom to a small, stupid child.

His tone is not lost on Wei Wuxian, who bristles and pulls himself up to his full height. “I’m aware of that. It’s not like I’m unwilling. I really am just very busy.”

“If you’re not unwilling, just make some time for it,” Jin Zixuan carries on. He’s either oblivious to Wei Wuxian’s growing ire or deliberately stoking it. Lan Wangji is certain it’s the latter. “I’d be happy to introduce you to some eligible young ladies.”

“Of course you would,” Wei Wuxian grits out. “Well,” he says, shifting gears, “go right ahead, then. Here I am, home sweet home, ready to make a foolish match with a nice Chinese girl so Auntie Yu can stop freaking out about me possibly marrying some loud American. A little beauty, a lot of brains, and it’s a done deal. Sign me up. Just as long as you sign up Jiang Cheng, too,” he says wickedly.

“Excuse me?” Jiang Cheng huffs. “I’m fine, thanks. You can leave me out of this.”

“What fun is that?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“You’re older than me,” Jiang Cheng bites out.

“By like, a week,” Wei Wuxian points out. “If anyone should be worried about marriage, it’s you. Remember how many grandkids you’re expected to produce? Better get on that.”

“Shut up!” Jiang Cheng splutters, and then immediately goes bright red with a look at Wen Qing. “Worry about yourself first.”

“Shall we all find our seats?” Jiang Yanli cuts in. “The banquet will be starting soon, so you’d all better find somewhere to sit. The head table is that one, and the two next to it are reserved for family.”

The tables have already begun to fill up, and Lan Wangji scans the room for somewhere hopefully far away from the family section, but most of the tables have been fully occupied already. Awkwardly, he makes his way into the crowd and finds a spot not too far away from the head table where the seats are only half full. He looks up as Wen Qing appears at his elbow, Wen Ning in tow.

“Mind if we join you?” she asks. “Turns out there are quite a few cousins taking up spots at the family tables.” Her smile turns wry. “And since I’m not a real date, I’m not guaranteed a seat.”

“Please,” he says, indicating the two empty seats to his right with a small nod.

“Thank you,” she says graciously, slipping into the nearest chair as Wen Ning sits down beside her.

The first course is a cold meat platter, and Lan Wangji eats a little of the jellyfish but passes over the rest, content to wait for the other dishes. The soup is seafood based, and he gladly partakes of that, instead. Platter after platter of sumptuous food arrives, one course at a time, until the table is loaded down with enough food for a small army. Oyster sauce braised abalone, crispy-skinned squab, sole filet on its own deep-fried bone, lobster in garlic sauce, seafood fried rice, and red glutinous peanut cakes for dessert.

Wen Qing proves to be a gifted conversationalist, always ready with a topic for discussion, and Lan Wangji notes that she is carefully keeping things light and formal.  Wen Ning speaks mostly when called upon to do so, and he is cheerful enough in his answers, although his aura remains a touch gloomy.

“So tell me,” says Wen Qing, suddenly a little pointed. “Do you play the piano?”

Lan Wangji is caught off guard. “Why do you ask?” It’s such a specific inquiry when all her other questions have been broader. Less personal.

“No reason,” she says, voice airy. “A-Ning plays. Don’t you, A-Ning?”

“Yes,” Wen Ning replies immediately. “A little. I’m not very good.”

“I see,” says Lan Wangji, unaccountably nervous. “I also play a little.”

“Just a little?” Wen Qing says, eyebrow raised.

“A long time ago, I might have played quite seriously,” he admits. “I don’t play much anymore.”

“Hmm,” she says. “I see.”

Something about her smile looks satisfied, as if she is now in possession of something important. Something secret. Lan Wangji averts his gaze and takes a sip of tea.

“Do you like music?” Wen Ning asks shyly. “That’s why I started playing, because I just loved music so much. I’m not much good at making it, but at least I can always listen.”

“Music has been a large part of my life, yes,” Lan Wangji answers carefully. His life as it is right now, however, is mostly devoid of it.

“It’s comforting, right?” Wen Ning says. “There’s a song for every mood, even the sad ones. Especially the sad ones,” he says, sounding wistful. Suddenly, he looks a little lost. “Um, excuse me,” he mumbles. “I’ll be right back.”

Lan Wangji watches as Wen Ning pushes back from the table and heads out of the banquet hall, eyes lowered and shoulders hunched. Beside him, Wen Qing sighs.

“Is he all right?” Lan Wangji asks.

“He’ll be fine,” Wen Qing assures him. Her eyes are a little sad. “My brother has been through some hard things lately. Some very hard things.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Lan Wangji says, voice sincere. “He seems very sad.”

“He is,” Wen Qing says, matter of fact. “It’s not easy to lose someone you love.”

Lan Wangji is taken aback. “I’m sorry,” he says. He didn’t mean to pry, and he hadn’t been expecting that.

Wen Qing shakes her head. “It’s all right. It hasn’t quite been a year yet, but it’s coming up soon, so of course he’s feeling sad again on the anniversary of A-Qing’s death.” She smiles sadly. “They were engaged, you see.”

“I’m so sorry,” Lan Wangji says again, at a loss for what else to say. 

“It was a car accident,” Wen Qing continues, eyes distant. “A-Qing was driving her uncle Xiao Xingchen to an appointment downtown when they were hit by a young man in a stolen car. He ran a red light and plowed right into them. They both died at the scene. Of course, the young man walked away,” she says bitterly. “Xue Yang. He’s probably up for parole soon.”

Lan Wangji remains silent, a little shocked that she is disclosing so much.

“You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you all this,” she says, as if she can read his mind. “I just don’t want you thinking badly of A-Ning. He’s awkward at the best of times, and his grief just makes him more vulnerable to being misunderstood.”

“I would never think less of anyone for having been unhappy,” Lan Wangji avows. It would be downright hypocritical of him to judge another person for being awkward and sad.

“I didn’t think you would,” Wen Qing smiles reassuringly. “You’re easy to talk to, you know that?”

Lan Wangji almost balks. “No one has ever accused me of that, no.”

Wen Qing just laughs. “Maybe not, but I stand by what I said. You’re a good listener.”

“May I interrupt?” a smooth, clear voice interjects.

Lan Wangji turns in his seat in order to see the speaker and comes face to face with Jin Guangyao, who smiles softly, eyes suffused with a glinting warmth. He cuts an elegant figure in his navy blue suit, pocket square flecked with gold.

“No need to get up,” Jin Guangyao says as Lan Wangji is about to rise and greet him. “What a pleasure to see you again, Lan Wangji.”

“Jin Guangyao,” Lan Wangji nods. “Likewise.”

“How is your brother?” Jin Guangyao asks, all smiles.

“He is well,” Lan Wangji assures him.

“I assume he is much preoccupied with this business with the academy? Even though his responsibilities are mostly in London, I’m sure he’s eager to offer his help at a time like this.”

“He is,” Lan Wangji confirms. “He is assisting us in communicating with the public.”

“You’ll give him my regards, won’t you?” Jin Guangyao entreats him. “I’m afraid we haven’t had as much contact as I’d like since I left London myself several years ago.”

“I will be happy to do so,” Lan Wangji offers, somewhat carefully. He knows that Jin Guangyao and his brother are not close like they used to be, although he is not aware why. Lan Xichen has not disclosed anything dire, but he also hasn’t been forthcoming with many details at all. The only thing Lan Wangji knows for sure is that Nie Mingjue will no longer tolerate Jin Guangyao’s company, and that gives Lan Xichen no small amount of pain.

“Thank you, I am much obliged,” Jin Guangyao bows slightly. “Although it bears saying, I may find myself back in London eventually, and possibly sooner than I had foreseen.”

“Oh?” Lan Wangji is curious.

“Yes, and actually, I will have business there that may be of interest to you. May I—“

He’s suddenly cut off as a man arrives and effectively collides with him, throwing an arm around Jin Guangyao’s shoulders and nearly bowling him over.

“Cousin,” Jin Guangyao chides. “Control yourself, please.”

The man laughs loudly, clearly inebriated. “I’m fine, I’m fine. This is a celebration after all!” He leers toward Lan Wangji. “Second young master Lan! Imagine seeing you here.”

“Jin Zixun,” Lan Wangji nods fractionally in acknowledgment.

“Milady.” Jin Zixun offers Wen Qing a tip of his imaginary hat. She raises both eyebrows, clearly unimpressed. Jin Guangyao has the good grace to look a little embarrassed.

Wen Ning returns to the table, Wei Wuxian following close behind him.

“Hey,” Wei Wuxian says, dropping into the empty seat beside Wen Ning and downing the rest of his wine. “Can I steal you two for a minute?”

“Time to break your aunt’s heart, is it?” Wen Qing asks archly.

Wei Wuxian grins at her. “You know it!”

“Excellent,” she says, rising from her seat and smoothing the front of her skirt. “Shall we?”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Jin Zixun waves a bottle of champagne in front of them. “A toast! A toast to my new cousin!” He proceeds to fill the handful of glasses on the table and grabs two of them, thrusting one toward Lan Wangji. “Have a drink with me, Lan Wangji!”

“Cousin,” Jin Guangyao says in warning.

“I do not drink,” Lan Wangji says stiffly, refusing the glass of champagne.

“Come now!” Jin Zixun insists. “This is a celebration! Have a drink in honour of baby Jin Ling, why don’t you?”

“Cousin,” Jin Guangyao tries again, awkwardly picking up another of the glasses. “Let’s have a toast without Lan Wangji, shall we? Or let him just have water?”

“You can’t toast with water!” Jin Zixun scoffs. “It’s bad luck! Here,” he says, thrusting the glass forward. “Drink up!”

“I really cannot,” Lan Wangji grits out, starting to feel annoyed. He doesn’t want to be rude, but his patience is starting to wear thin.

“If you don’t drink, I’ll be offended!” declares Jin Zixun.

Lan Wangji opens his mouth to reply when Wei Wuxian stands and reaches across him to seize the glass of champagne.

“To Jin Ling!” Wei Wuxian declares, and then he downs the whole glass in one go.

Jin Zixun gapes at him.

“Satisfied?” Wei Wuxian asks. He turns to Wen Qing. “Shall we go?”

Wei Wuxian offers her his arm, and she swats him away. She turns back to speak to Lan Wangji.

“Thanks for listening,” Wen Qing says to him. “I hope to talk to you some more later.”

Wei Wuxian spares him a glance, and Lan Wangji detects a hint of wariness mixed with annoyance. “What on earth could you have to talk about?”

“You,” says Wen Qing, not missing a beat as Wen Ning scrambles up to follow her. “I want to hear about how much of a nuisance you were in high school.”

Wei Wuxian laughs as he leads them away. “No more than I am now, I promise.”

Lan Wangji watches him go, emotions roiling within his stomach. Jin Guangyao has managed to steer Jin Zixun away, leaving Lan Wangji alone at the table. He drops his gaze to the empty champagne glass, his heart full with gratitude for Wei Wuxian’s small act of kindness. It clearly was not a hardship for Wei Wuxian to drink another glass of champagne, but it had saved Lan Wangji from having to inspire more of a drunken scene from Jin Zixun, and he is truly thankful. Lan Wangji has not touched a drop of alcohol since his ill-fated experiment with scotch, and he dreads to think what might have happened had he been forced to drink.

Wei Wuxian can’t have known what might have happened, but it was clear that Lan Wangji had not wanted to drink, and Wei Wuxian had opted to take action. He had not been able to sit idly by and watch Lan Wangji be bullied. Lan Wangjji cautions himself against thinking that maybe Wei Wuxian doesn’t despise him as much as his previously cold conduct would suggest. Wei Wuxian is simply a kind person. He doesn’t like it when anyone is being picked on, even if it’s Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji sighs.

The last thing he needs right now is an impossible hope.

---

Lan Wangji grows tired as the evening wears on, and he finds himself on one of the small balconies bordering the banquet hall to catch his breath and get some fresh air. He tucks himself off to the side, effectively hiding behind the open door where it swings out to the side. Inside is hot and crowded, and he welcomes the cold night air as he closes his eyes, breathes in deeply, and allows himself to slouch just the tiniest bit against the outside wall.

“How did it go?”

Lan Wangji’s eyes fly open at the sound of that voice.

“About as well as I thought it would,” Wei Wuxian replies, sounding tired.

“She really thought Wen Qing was your date?” Jiang Cheng’s voice sounds a little strained.

“Of course she did. And just because she’s my business partner, you know that has Auntie Yu thinking it could evolve.”

“Could it?” Jiang Cheng asks, voice tight.

The laugh Wei Wuxian barks out is sudden and raucous. “Are you joking?” he almost chokes. “Wen Qing is like another sister. A scary one.”

Lan Wangji hazards a glance through the crack in between the hinge of the door and the wall. He can just make out the edge of Wei Wuxian’s profile where he stands next to Jiang Cheng on the threshold of the balcony. He takes a quiet breath and prays for them to walk away.

“So,” Jiang Cheng changes the subject. “What’s it like being back?”

“Suffocating,” Wei Wuxian almost spits, but it’s said without much rancor. “Especially at things like this.”

“Hm,” Jiang Cheng agrees. “Pressure really is on, huh?”

“I’m sure you can feel it, too. It’s always like this here. Constant competition with each other.”

Jiang Cheng snorts. “You say that like you’re not the one winning.”

“Am I?” Wei Wuxian sounds tired again. “All you’d have to do is get a girlfriend and nothing I could do would ever top that,” he says, somewhat morose.

“Well, that’s not very likely, is it?” Jiang Cheng growls.

“Your standards are too high,” Wei Wuxian says.

“Look who’s talking,” Jiang Cheng snaps. “When was the last time you had a partner?”

“You know when,” Wei Wuxian says, voice like ice.

They are silent for a while after that. A gentle breeze whispers past, drifting through the strands of Wei Wuxian’s hair where it’s hanging loose from his ponytail to frame his face.

“What’s it like?” Jiang Cheng asks quietly.

“What’s what like?” Wei Wuxian asks, voice low.

“Seeing him again. Lan Wangji.”

Lan Wangji stiffens, feeling a sudden, sick rush of heat.

Wei Wuxian lets out a short, sharp laugh. “Are you kidding me? It’s surreal. I barely recognised him.”

“Really?” Jiang Cheng asks. “He doesn’t look that different to me.”

“I swear, I almost didn’t know it was him,” Wei Wuxian insists. “I’ve never seen anyone so altered. He just looked so… dull. Pale and dull.”

Jiang Cheng snorts. “He’s always pale.”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “Not like that. More like, washed out. Washed up, really,” he says derisively. “It’s like he got small.”

“He’s still taller than you,” Jiang Cheng points out.

Wei Wuxian swirls his whiskey, ignoring his brother and looking thoughtful.

“I used to think he’d outshine us all, you know?” Wei Wuxian’s voice is quiet now. “He used to shine so brightly he was hard to look at. And now, well.” He takes a swig of his drink. “I told him once to go into music, but I guess it’s a good thing he didn’t. You need a lot of passion for that,” he almost sneers.

“No doubt,” Jiang Cheng agrees. “Can’t say I’d ever associate the word ‘passion’ with Lan Wangji.”

“Hm,” Wei Wuxian nods. “Me neither.”

Lan Wangji holds his breath and tries to feel anything besides the torturous clenching of his heart. He brings his right hand up to press against his chest, sliding it underneath his suit jacket, hoping to ease the ache. But all he feels is the perfect ridge of scar tissue underneath the thin fabric of his shirt, and it sears a line of shame across his palm.

“Come on,” Jiang Cheng says. “I need another drink.”

Wei Wuxian tosses back the rest of his whiskey and turns to follow his brother back to the bar, leaving Lan Wangji alone once more.

He shouldn’t be surprised, he thinks. What had Wei Wuxian said that he doesn’t deserve? Lan Wangji is a small person, with a small life. He has his work. He has his family. But he has no friends, and he definitely has no passion. And yet, the words still sting. They strike at something old and wounded and desolate at the very heart of him, and Lan Wangji is almost paralyzed by the pain.

If he’d felt the stirrings of an unbearable hope earlier tonight, reality is now rushing back to crush it into dust. Foolish, he thinks. Shameful.

He checks his watch. He has less than half an hour before it would be polite to make his exit. He can make it, he thinks.

He can make it.

Chapter Text

The next week brings the advent of classes that much closer, and Lan Wangji is settled in the conference room again, early as usual for the joint board and faculty meeting. He skims grimly over the notes on Wen Qing’s update report, knowing that he will be the bearer of bad news today.

“You’re looking cheerful today,” says a woman down and across the table.

Lan Wangji looks up to see Luo Qingyang settling into a seat next to the colleague who had spoken. He recognises her as the teacher representing the Mathematics department.

“I’m in a pretty good mood, thanks,” Luo Qingyang smiles.

“I’ll bet,” the other woman says slyly. “Well? How was it?”

“How was what?” Luo Qingyang asks, somewhat coy.

“You know what! Your date with Wei Wuxian! How did it go?”

Lan Wangji freezes, his stomach lurching.

Luo Qingyang’s smile spreads a little wider across her pretty face. “Oh, I’d say it went very well.”

“Is he a good kisser?”

“A lady never tells,” laughs Luo Qingyang.

Lan Wangji can feel himself flushing. He thinks he might be a little sick.

“Oh come on! You’re American. Aren’t you supposed to be fast and loose with those kinds of details?”

“Hey!” Luo Qingyang swats at her, but she’s laughing again. “I resent that implication. But seriously. It was nice. He’s really nice. And you know what he’s really good at?”

“Kissing?” says the other woman hopefully.

“Listening!” gushes Luo Qingyang. “I’ve honestly never had a man—especially one so honestly, truly smart—listen to everything I say so attentively. Real, genuine interest in the words coming out of my mouth. Can you believe it? I might have swooned.”

“Now that is attractive,” the math teacher agrees. “You’re sure he was actually interested?”

“Positive,” Luo Qingyang avers. “He was super engaged. He asked me a ton of questions, always looking for me to elaborate. He wanted to know all about my work, and we had a really intense debate about philosophy. I’m telling you, it was the sexiest conversation I’ve had in years.”

“I’m so jealous,” she sighs. “He’s already so hot, and now this? So unfair. Are you going out again?”

Luo Qingyang nods enthusiastically, and Lan Wangji can feel the bile creeping up his throat.

“Tomorrow, actually!”

“Well, keep me updated, then. I want a full rundown. And you’re going to dish on the kissing eventually, right?”

Luo Qingyang laughs again. “We’ll see,” she says.

Lan Wangji reshuffles his notes, carefully lining up the edges of the papers and reminding himself to breathe. It’s none of his business, he tells himself. So what if Wei Wuxian has finally discovered enough time to date, just like his brother in law and all his family have been encouraging him to do? It has nothing to do with Lan Wangji.

The rest of the staff members trickle in, and the meeting gets started. When it comes time for the update on the security project, Lan Wangji takes a breath and launches into the report.

“The hardware installation is progressing smoothly, and the server upgrade is almost complete. Unfortunately, the data extraction team has hit something of a snag.”

“What kind of a snag?” Lan Qiren asks, voice wary.

The Director of IT clears his throat. “Apparently, one of our IT workers who was scheduled to help them with some of the more manual tasks may have been… overzealous in his approach, and he may have… well. How do I put this so it’s easy to understand? It’s all highly technical jargon, but, well…”

Lan Qiren’s brow furrows and a shadow of irritation passes over his face.  “He broke the egg yolk?” he says flatly.

The Director of IT winces.

“Essentially, yes,” Lan Wangji supplies.

“And what does that mean for the project?” Lan Qiren wants to know.

“It’s still possible to extract what we need without corrupting everything, but it’s going to take a lot longer now,” Lan Wangji continues. “They plan to run a parallel program on a new server to start fresh when classes recommence next week, and then build it backward to encompass the older records as they recover them.”

“And how much more is this going to cost us?” Lan Qiren asks, face dark.

“That remains unconfirmed. Likely, it will simply be a matter of paying for the extra work hours, as the rest of the agreement remains unchanged. Unfortunately, that looks to be quite a lot of extra hours.”

“How much longer will it take at this point?”

Lan Wangji refers to his notes. “Another month. Possibly more.”

Lan Qiren’s eye twitches in frustration. “Well,” he says. “I suppose that brings us to our next order of business, which is of course financial. It’s no secret that after having to pay the ransom, the academy is somewhat strapped for funds. Which is why I’d like the board and the faculty representatives to vote on a fundraising initiative.”

There’s a small murmur of concern that passes through the room, and Lan Wangji tightens his grip on his pen. He was worried it would come to this.

“We will be hosting a one-time fundraising gala in order to recoup the emergency fund, offset the extra operating costs of the security project, and ensure the safety of our scholarship program. Without a substantial injection of outside funds, our scholarship program is in particular danger of being gutted, which means our less fortunate students would be the first to suffer, and the student body as a whole may have to face higher tuition in the following years.”

Lan Qiren surveys the room with a severe, heavy gaze.

“I know this is not the way we normally do things around here, but the shortfall is simply too much to ask for a reinvestment from our staff members alone. But because we are all investors here, we will, of course, put this motion to a vote. Please consider carefully, and we shall vote at the end of the meeting.”

The rest of the meeting progresses with reports from the faculty. As the final department finishes up their presentation, Lan Qiren’s secretary makes her way around the room and passes out makeshift ballots for the vote on the gala. It’s a matter of minutes before she is collecting all of them into a box, and Lan Qiren counts out the votes one by one at the head of the table. In the end, the yes vote has it by a clear majority.

“So be it,” Lan Qiren declares. “I will put together an organising committee and set the date for a month from now, as we will need to move as swiftly as possible. Invitations will be issued within the week. I know we shall be working with a tight deadline, but the situation dictates the timeframe. Please keep your eyes on your inboxes for updates. This meeting is now adjourned.”

---

“What’s all this?” Wei Wuxian wants to know.

“An apology. From the academy, and the IT department in particular,” says Lan Wangji. He places the tray of piping hot coffees and the box of gourmet pastries on the desk. “For your added troubles concerning the self-inflicted setback,” he clarifies.

Wei Wuxian lets out a short laugh, mouth quirked up into a wry smile. “Yes, well. Your guy did quite a number on the project. I’m not usually one to wish unemployment on people, but I might recommend it in this case.”

“He has been dealt with,” Lan Wangji says smoothly. Su She had even been given severance pay, although Lan Wangji doesn’t think he deserved it.

“Thank you,” Wen Qing enthuses, accepting one of the fancy coffees and inhaling deeply.  “This smells amazing.”

Wen Ning gratefully takes a cup as well, but Wei Wuxian waves the tray away. “I only drink it black these days.”

Lan Wangji extracts a cup from the corner of the tray and offers it to Wei Wuxian, sliding it forward across the desk. “I am aware,” he says quietly.

Wei Wuxian freezes and regards him with wide-eyed surprise. Recovering quickly, he nods fractionally and accepts the cup, reaching out to take it after Lan Wangji withdraws his own hand.

“What are you doing this weekend?” Wen Qing asks sharply, making Wei Wuxian jump.

Lan Wangji is taken aback. He blinks at her, considering. “I have not yet made plans,” he finally offers. Of course he has nothing to do, he thinks.

“Wen Qing,” Wei Wuxian says, voice low.

“Then you should come to Yiling,” Wen Qing says, ignoring Wei Wuxian.

“Yiling?” Lan Wangji exclaims in surprise.

“Yes, Yiling,” continues Wen Qing. “A group from the faculty is coming for a tour of the new headquarters at Stygian Security. Perhaps you’d like to come along?”

“Wen Qing!” Wei Wuxian snaps.

“What? We always intended to extend the invitation to members of the board, and you know it.” She flashes a sly smile at Lan Wangji. “That’s where the real money is, after all.”

“So this is an investment opportunity?” Lan Wangji asks, understanding dawning.

“Partially,” Wen Qing explains. “We’re not new, so we don’t need seed capital, but it’s always good to work with local investors and build a customer base. But aside from that, it’s just a fun thing that we’re doing for some of our new friends here. Care to join in?”

“Unless you’re too busy,” Wei Wuxian interjects, voice tight. The expression on his face is strained, and he looks a little agitated.

“You should come,” Wen Ning pipes up, uncharacteristically enthusiastic. “I’d love to talk to you some more about music, Vice Director Lan.”

“Music?” says Wei Wuxian, sounding surprised.

“Vice Director Lan is a musician,” says Wen Ning, as if imparting an especially important piece of information.

Lan Wangji shifts awkwardly.

Wei Wuxian’s gaze drifts over Lan Wangji’s face. “I am aware,” he murmurs, an echo of Lan Wanji’s earlier words, but in Wei Wuxian’s mouth, they come out sounding soft and wistful.

Lan Wangji averts his eyes and tries to come up with a good excuse not to go.

“We could chat during the train ride?” Wen Ning offers, quietly hopeful.

Wen Qing laughs. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t mean the whole way. That’s almost nine hours, after all.”

“You’re all taking the train?” Lan Wangji asks.

Wen Qing shakes her head. “I’m flying along ahead, but these two will be escorting the faculty members who would rather take the train.”

Lan Wangji nods, suspecting that most of the faculty members would be looking to save money right now.

“So, what do you say?” Wen Qing prompts. “Want to come and take a look? No obligation to invest, don’t worry. We’d love to have you.”

“Yes, please come!” entreats Wen Ning.

Lan Wangji glances at Wei Wuxian, who will not meet his eyes, then back to Wen Ning and Wen Qing, who both regard him expectantly. He takes a deep breath and decides to do something reckless.

“I’d be honoured,” he says.

He hears Wei Wuxian let out a breath.

“It’s still under construction, so don’t get your hopes up. It’s not that exciting yet,” Wei Wuxian cautions.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Lan Wangji says.

“We have tickets for Friday morning, and hotel reservations for Friday and Saturday,” Wen Qing says. “The tour is on Saturday, and the return ticket is for Sunday, so your staff will all be back in time for classes to start on Monday. Would you like us to get your tickets so you can join up with the group?”

“Are you sure it’s no trouble?” Lan Wangji asks, not wanting to be a last-minute burden.

“No trouble at all,” Wen Qing assures him. “I’ll arrange everything and send you the receipt.”

“Thank you,” says Lan Wangji.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Wen Qing smiles. “We’ll see you Friday.”

---

Friday rolls around and Lan Wangji finds himself boarding the train with the rest of the party at 10:00am sharp. He takes a seat next to Wen Ning and settles in for a long ride. Wei Wuxian sits across the aisle and a few rows down at one of the sections with a table, his seat facing toward Lan Wangji. Luo Qingyang sits across from him, and Lan Wangji can see the edge of her profile as she speaks animatedly about something, gesturing enthusiastically with her hands. He notes with no small amount of pain that their feet are tangled together under the table.

Lan Wangji can only assume that their second date has gone as well as their first, if not better. The two of them are intent on each other in a way that belies a growing intimacy, and Lan Wangji cannot stop the twinge of nauseated grief that it brings him to see it. He knows he has no right to be jealous, but he cannot help the way his stomach twists, or the way memory seems to surface like a shipwreck, sharp broken masts piercing the still waters that hide a deep, aching sorrow. He remembers the notes of a song he hasn’t played since he was seventeen, and he is nearly overcome with a profound sense of loss.

“Do you have a favourite modern composer?” Wen Ning asks, breaking him out of his reverie.

“I confess, I am largely out of touch with the modern music world,” Lan Wangji admits. “It has been a long time since I was seriously involved in any of it.”

Wen Ning nods in understanding. “I’m no expert, either, I just like pretty sounding things. I’m a big fan of Yiruma. Do you know him?”

Lan Wangji nods. “I’ve heard pieces of his work. He is very whimsical.”

“And accessible. I like that. He’s not pretentious,” Wen Ning enthuses. “Not like some of the weird, discordant stuff that’s coming out of music schools these days.”

“Snobbery in music has always been an issue,” Lan Wangji agrees. “And I confess, most of my time playing was devoted to learning the most difficult classics.”

“Lots of Liszt and Rachmaninov?” Wen Ning smiles shyly.

Lan Wangji nods again. “Among others.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji says softly, gazing at his own hands. “I enjoyed it immensely.”  

Feeling eyes on him, Lan Wangji looks up to see Wei Wuxian glancing away, attention fixed on Luo Qingyang. Perhaps he had imagined it.

The train ride progresses steadily and pleasantly. Wen Ning is not as skilled as Wen Qing in the art of conversation, but he is amiable and polite, and Lan Wangji discovers that he quite enjoys Wen Ning’s company. He finds Wen Ning to be a deeply sensitive, studious kind of person. Despite his protestations about not being an expert, his knowledge of music theory and contemporary artists runs deep, especially for someone who is mostly self-taught, and Lan Wangji finds himself learning things about the modern music landscape that he had not been aware of. It’s nice, he thinks, to engage in this kind of casual conversation without feeling oppressed by his usual sense of melancholy. Perhaps Wen Ning’s own subdued nature mitigates his habitual need to appear less sombre than he feels.

They arrive in Yiling, and Wen Qing is there to greet them at the train station. She has already arranged their transportation to a restaurant where they have a spirited dinner before continuing on to their hotel for the night. By the time they arrive at their accommodations, Lan Wangji is exhausted from the exertion of remaining placid throughout the too-loud evening festivities, and he collapses gratefully into sleep.

---

The tour begins mid-morning the next day. The group arrives, and Wei Wuxian ferries them into the lobby where they are greeted by Wen Qing and a cheerful looking young man that Wen Qing quickly introduces.

“This is Lu Zhixing, our Director of Operations in Yiliing,” she says.

“Welcome,” Lu Zhixing says, voice warm and friendly. “We’re happy we get to show you around today. Of course, President Wei will take very good care of you, but please let me or anyone from my team know if you need anything else while you’re here.”

“Thank you, Director Lu,” Wei Wuxian smiles. “I’ll take it from here.” He turns to the group, smile going wry. “Everything suddenly feels so formal. Please, feel free not to call me President for the duration of the tour.”

There is some scattered, good-natured laughter as the group proceeds into the offices.

The space is large and modern, open concept, clearly designed with a more North American atmosphere in mind. Exposed brick and piping is more of a feature than a flaw, and the light from the tall, oversized windows reflects off the polished concrete floors.

“It’s a beautiful space,” Chen Nianru says. “It doesn’t get too cold in here?”

“The heating bill hasn’t been too exorbitant thus far, and it is the middle of winter,” Wei Wuxian shrugs. “But we’re happy to provide our employees with further space heaters if they’re uncomfortable. Luckily no one has complained yet,” he says cheerfully.

They move through the different areas of the office space, Wei Wuxian indicating where each department will finally live after all the construction is completed. He explains the layout and the function of the company, and he introduces the employees as they move along, all of whom appear especially happy to be working there. Most of them are new hires from the local population; there are very few transplants from the US.

After about an hour, Wei Wuxian leads them into the cafeteria, where everything is slick and steely, but there are softer touches in the corners, where plush furniture is arranged to form cozy nooks, perfect for an afternoon coffee or tea.

“The kitchen isn’t fully operational yet, but eventually, we’ll have a full meal service available.” He gestures to a table at the side of the room where an elaborate spread of food has been laid out. “Wen Qing arranged a catered lunch for us today, so please, everyone help yourselves and have a seat wherever you’d like.”

Lan Wangji selects a small amount of food and resists the urge to retreat into a far corner, taking a seat next to Wen Ning after the young man beckons him over. He has to fight to keep down the spike of anxiety that rises in his throat as Luo Qingyang drops into the seat opposite him, and Wei Wuxian takes the seat across from Wen Ning. He knows it’s unreasonable to expect Luo Qingyang to keep her distance. After all, he had hired her, and she is the closest thing he has to a work friend. Before this entanglement with Wei Wuxian, the two of them have always been friendly and gracious with each other, and of course she would see no reason for that to change.

“This is quite the setup,” Luo Qingyang says. “Very chic, very modern. Definitely more stylish and employee oriented than your average Chinese office space.”

“We wanted to import a little of that American style office culture,” Wei Wuxian agrees. “I want things to be fun and casual as well as productive. There’ll be a game room, too. Creative people need space they can move in, after all.”

Lu Zhixing ducks in, perpetually smiling, coming over to see how everything is going. He happily ducks out again when Wei Wuxian assures him that everything is running smoothly.

“He seems nice,” Luo Qingyang says. “What exactly does he do here?”

“Everything,” Wei Wuxian says. “He’s the boss.”

“Aren’t you the boss?” Luo Qingyang asks playfully.

Wei Wuxian laughs. “After a fashion, sure. But he’s the one in charge here.”

“You don’t intend to stay,” Lan Wangji says, a statement and not a question. It hadn’t occurred to him before, but now it seems obvious.

“No,” Wei Wuxian meets his gaze, eyes guarded. “I’ll need to go back to Seattle eventually. But I’ll be back and forth frequently enough.”

“That’s quite a commute,” Luo Qingyang observes, voice light.

“Isn’t it?” Wei Wuxian says, equally casual. “But it’s not such a hardship. Even if most business can be conducted remotely, I’d like to make it a habit to be in China semi-regularly. I have a nephew to visit, after all.”

“Jin Ling!” Luo Qingyang nearly squeals. “He’s so cute! I’d want to be around him all the time if I were you.”

“He is pretty cute,” Wei Wuxian grins. “I can’t wait for him to get old enough to talk so I can teach him all the bad words. I’m going to be the cool uncle,” Wei Wuxian declares.

Luo Qingyang just laughs. “I bet you already are.”

Lan Wangji watches the two of them with a heavy heart, chiding himself for feeling the edge of disappointment. Of course Wei Wuxian isn’t here to stay. And even if he was, what does it have to do with Lan Wangji? Nothing, he thinks.

Nothing at all.

Lunch wraps up, and the group heads out of the cafeteria. Wei Wuxian walks them briskly past an area that’s roped off for construction, dodging past the wet floor sign as he goes, tossing a careless warning behind him to please watch your step.

But despite the warning, despite the extra caution, it only takes one small misstep for Luo Qingyang to go toppling sharply backward as her thin-soled shoe flies out from underneath her on the slick concrete surface. The world seems to slow down in the interminable seconds before the back of her head hits the ground with a sickening crack.

There’s a loud, shocked gasp, an echo of surprised shrieking, and then the group explodes into tittering chaos. Wei Wuxian whirls around at the sound, face going pale at the sight of Luo Qingyang splayed across the floor. He seems rooted to the spot in horror, mouth agape and hands useless, hovering in the air in front of him.

Lan Wangji springs into action, pushing his way through the crowd and quickly dropping down beside her. There’s a small pool of blood forming at the side of her head, but Lan Wangji notes with some relief that it’s not moving very rapidly, nor does there appear to be anything but actual blood. He gingerly runs his fingers up her neck and along the back of her skull, careful not to move her head, satisfied that everything feels unbroken. The skin has cracked, but the skull is thankfully intact.

“Call an ambulance,” he says, pointing directly at Wen Ning. “You know the address here, correct?”

Wen Ning nods, already reaching for his phone.

“Good,” Lan Wangji says. “Go outside and get ready to flag down the ambulance. You’ll need to show them the way here.”

He turns back to Luo Qingyang, then drops down to his elbows, heedless of the blood seeping into his sleeve as he frames her head with his forearms to prevent any future movement. He lifts his head up to look at Wei Wuxian.

“Wei Ying,” he calls, voice commanding.

Wei Wuxian snaps to attention and darts forward, coming out of his fog and looking grimly determined.

“Get them out of here,” Lan Wangji jerks his head toward the increasingly agitated crowd of people. “Take them back to the cafeteria and have them wait there. Chen Nianru,” he calls out. “Please take up position at the end of the hallway to ensure that no one else comes down this way.”

“Good call,” says Wen Qing, materializing next to Lan Wangji. “Get moving,” she says to Wei Wuxian. “I’ll take over here. I’m a level three first aid,” she clarifies, then looks to Lan Wangji. “You stay right where you are.”

Lan Wangji nods at her, having no intention of moving.

Wei Wuxian collects the group and leads them away, entreating them all to stay calm. Wen Qing drops to her knees and performs a cursory inspection of Luo Qingyang, who remains unconscious. It feels like an eternity before Wen Ning returns with the paramedics, and Lan Wangji carefully shifts out of the way, following their instructions for the transfer of the patient into their care.

In the end, Luo Qingyang is loaded carefully onto a stretcher and carried out to the ambulance, Wen Ning leading the way. Lan Wangji is asked to ride along, if for no other reason than he is covered in blood, and that bears examining.

“None of it is mine,” he assures the paramedics. “But I would be happy to come along.” He thinks of Luo Qingyang having to wake up in a hospital without a familiar face, and he doesn’t like the thought.

He is taking off his bloody suit jacket and preparing to board the ambulance when Wei Wuxian appears, still looking pale, his face drawn and brow furrowed.

“How is she?” Wei Wuxian wants to know.

“We won’t know for sure until we get to the hospital,” the paramedic says. “We’ll have to take some x-rays to be sure, since there is a small possibility of spinal damage due to the hard surface, but I’m optimistic she’ll be fine. Hopefully, it’s just a concussion.”

“Would you like to go along instead?” Lan Wangji offers.

Wei Wuxian shakes his head, expression tight and worried. “I have to handle things here. There’s a whole group to look after, and I’ll have to report the accident.” He shoots an anxious glance to where they have just finished loading Luo Qingyang into the ambulance. “Take care of her, will you?”

“Of course,” Lan Wangji says quietly. “I have your number. I will keep you updated.”

“Thank you,” Wei Wuxian says, shoulders relaxing just a little.

Lan Wangji climbs aboard and straps himself in at the instruction of the paramedics. The last thing Lan Wangji sees before the ambulance door shuts are Wei Wuxian’s wide, grateful, trusting eyes.

---

Lan Wangji spends the rest of the day coordinating with the nurses and the administration at the hospital. Since Luo Qingyang is an ex-pat, her insurance is slightly more complicated than the standard citizen, and as a non-resident of Yiling, there is an extra layer of intricacy to be dealt with. It also means that her family is overseas, and her emergency contact is simply the math teacher with whom she is close friends. Depending on the severity of her injury, Lan Wangji may have to make a phone call to the US.

He has just returned to her hospital room with a tea from the vending machine when Wen Ning walks in wearing a backpack and carrying a bag of takeout food. Wen Ning smiles shyly and places the bag on the small side table, pulling a chair over and sitting across from Lan Wangji.

“I thought you might be getting hungry,” Wen Ning explains. “It’s been a long day.”

“It has,” agrees Lan Wangji. “Although there was no need to trouble yourself.”

“It’s no trouble,” Wen Ning assures him. “I’m happy to help. And you’ll have to go back tomorrow, right?”

“I may change my ticket,” Lan Wangji says. “I wouldn’t want to leave her alone in this place.”

Wen Ning shakes his head vigorously. “No, of course not! I promise she won’t be alone. I’m volunteering to stay with her, instead,” he explains.

Lan Wangji blinks at him. “We don’t know how long that will be yet,” he warns him. “I have been informed that she will likely be kept longer than overnight for observation, since she still has not regained consciousness, and therefore, she cannot be fully evaluated.”

“I know,” Wen Ning nods. “I packed a bag,” he says, indicating his backpack. “And I know you have to be back in the office on Monday, but I can coordinate my team remotely. Most of the hardware installation is already done, and the rest of the hands-on work doesn’t have to be done by me.”

Lan Wangji regards him thoughtfully. “You really want to do this?”

Wen Ning nods, deadly serious. “Luo Qingyang has been such a great help to the Stygian team. I can only hope to be half as useful to her.”

“Thank you,” Lan Wangji says, moved by Wen Ning’s fierce loyalty. “I will stay for tonight, but tomorrow, I shall entrust her to your care.”

Wen Ning’s smile spreads soft and wide across his face. “Thank you, Vice Director Lan. You’re a very kind person.”

Lan Wangji averts his gaze, uncomfortable with the sudden praise. “I’m only doing what is necessary.”

“You went above and beyond today,” Wen Ning insists. “So now it’s our turn to help out. Here,” he says, unloading the containers from the takeout bag. “Eat,” he insists again. “It’s the least we can do.”

Together, they eat in silence, the sound of medical equipment humming comfortably behind them.  

---

Monday brings with it the influx of returning students, and the academy comes to life at breakneck speed. Lan Wangji is swamped with tedious paperwork, and Lan Qiren has made sure to include him on the committee for the gala, so he sees an increase in his usual workload. He coordinates with Chen Nianru and contacts several of their former students that he knows to be in businesses relevant to their current predicament. Within the week, they have the contracts drawn up for a photographer, a caterer, a string quartet, and a pianist.

At the midway point of the second week since classes restarted, he books a flight to Yiling. Luo Qingyang had regained consciousness the night before he’d left. She’d been groggy but grateful to see him upon waking up, and since then, Lan Wangji has been receiving multiple updates a day from Wen Ning on her condition. The doctors had recommended an extended stay due to some complications she was experiencing with her short term memory, but her prognosis is good, and she is expected to make a full recovery. The doctors advise they cannot be too cautious with head injuries, and Lan Wangji agrees.

He had called her family and conferred with them, and in the end, Luo Qingyang had convinced her parents not to come out, although they’ve had several video calls since they were initially contacted.

“They’ve been introduced to Wen Ning,” Luo Qingyang smiles when Lan Wangji arrives that weekend bearing a light lunch, a bouquet of colourful daisies, and a card overflowing with well-wishes from the rest of the faculty. “He’s been my guardian angel!”

Wen Ning flushes all the way from his cheeks up into his hairline. “I’m just keeping her company,” he mumbles, although he is clearly pleased.

Lan Wangji glances between them, noting with some interest the obvious affection with which Luo Qingyang is regarding Wen Ning.

“You’re keeping me from going insane!” she effuses. “Seriously, you’re a godsend. Did you know,” she says to Lan Wangji, “that Wen Ning has the most amazingly random library of music trivia in his brain? And playlists to match! You have a song for every mood, don’t you?” she asks fondly.

“I got some of them from Wei-ge,” Wen Ning admits shyly, and Lan Wangji feels a twinge of acute nostalgia for summer evenings spent listening to a carefully curated playlist.

“But you’re the one who puts them into such a specific order,” Luo Qingyang insists. “It’s a real art form, I swear. You nearly had me in tears with all of that Adele.”

Wen Ning’s flush deepens, gratified by her praise. “I’m glad you’re enjoying the music.”

“I love it!” she gushes, her face bright with happiness. “You’re my own personal DJ, Wen Ning.”

Lan Wangji takes a sip of his tea, watching them both over the rim of his cup. Wen Ning hides his smile behind his rou jia mo, and Luo Qingyang delicately licks a morsel of shredded pork off her thumb.

“So,” she says, after swallowing her last mouthful and wiping her hands on a napkin. “How are the preparations for the gala going?”

“Quite well,” Lan Wangji assures her. “We’ve had an overwhelmingly positive response from the list of invited guests.”

“Excellent!” she crows. “They’d better bring their wallets with them.”

“That is the idea, yes,” he replies, amused.

“I’m going to be out of here by then, I swear,” she promises. “I’ve got a dress picked out and everything. I wouldn’t miss this for the world, let alone a stupid head injury.”

“It sounds like it’ll be fun,” Wen Ning says quietly.

“It’ll be great!” Luo Qingyang declares. “It’ll be fancy and stuffy and brimming with alcohol. A real chance to dress up and have some high-class fun.” She levels Wen Ning with a commanding stare. “And you’re coming with me.”

A pause.

“What?” Wen Ning squeaks.

“You’re coming with me,” she repeats. “As my date.”

Lan Wangji freezes, suddenly feeling like he might be intruding on something.

Wen Ning has gone completely red. “Your date?” he manages.

“Yes,” she says decisively. “That is,” she says with a slight flush, suddenly less sure, “if you want to?”

“Y-yes!” Wen Ning stutters in reply. “Yes, I… I would like that very much,” he finishes.

Luo Qingyang’s eyes crinkle up with happiness.

“Perfect,” she says. “Make sure you have a tux,” she adds.

Wen Ning nods emphatically. “I will!” he promises.

Lan Wangji finishes the last of his tea and excuses himself, promising to take Luo Qingyang’s greetings back to her colleagues at the academy. He leaves the hospital and heads for the airport feeling a little bemused, and, perhaps selfishly, a touch relieved.

---

“Here you go,” Wen Qing says as she hands over the latest progress report in exchange for a fresh coffee. It’s become something of a Monday routine for Lan Wangji to start the week off with a coffee drop to the Stygian team when he comes to pick up their report. It’s done wonders for his popularity among the techs.

“Good news this week,” Wen Qing promises. “We’ll be down to a skeleton crew in the next week or so, since the hardware installation is complete, and Wei Wuxian’s team is shrinking by the day.”

“The extraction is proceeding faster than expected, then?” Lan Wangji asks, tucking the report into his briefcase.

“Not exactly,” Wen Qing says drily. “It’s just that the number of people Wei Wuxian trusts not to screw it up at this point keeps dwindling. A lot of our techs here in China are newer, and, well. Wei Wuxian has trust issues.”

“I see,” Lan Wangji says, feeling a touch of errant fondness.

“Speak of the devil,” Wen Qing quips as Wei Wuxian enters the teacher’s lounge.

“What,” he says flatly, tossing his bag onto the desk, looking far less cheerful than usual. “Have I done something that bears gossiping about?”

“Aren’t we chipper this morning,” Wen Qing says archly. “What’s wrong? Did your brother in law spend all weekend giving you unwelcome business advice again?”

“Something like that,” Wei Wuxian grouses. “I should have just begged off and gone to Yiling instead.”

“Why didn’t you?” Wen Qing asks.

“Because I’m a coward,” Wei Wuxian sighs. He reaches for the coffee marked as black and takes a long sip. “Thanks, Lan Zhan,” he says absently.

“You’re welcome,” Lan Wangji says quietly. After a pause, he adds, “It wasn’t your fault, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian lets out a bitter laugh. “If you say so. I should probably still visit, though. Especially since Wen Ning hasn’t been sending me updates.”

“He hasn’t?” Lan Wangji asks in surprise.

“No,” Wei Wuxian says, looking up in curiosity. “Has he been sending them to you?”

Lan Wangji nods. “Several times a day.”

Wei Wuxian rakes a hand through his ponytail in frustration. “What’s up with that?” he grumbles.

“He knows you feel responsible,” Wen Qing supplies. “He probably doesn’t want to bother you and feed your guilt complex.”

“Maybe.” Wei Wuxian fiddles with his coffee cup.

“They were both very well when I saw them this weekend,” Lan Wangji offers. “Luo Qingyang is making good progress. Wen Ning is a constant support.”

Wei Wuxian frowns a little. “The two of you get along really well, don’t you?”

“Pardon?”

“You and Wen Ning,” Wei Wuxian says, looking up to meet Lan Wangji’s eyes. “He trusts you.”

“I suppose so,” Lan Wangji says, feeling awkward. He thinks about the scene he witnessed at the hospital and feels a stab of guilt. If Wen Ning isn’t communicating, then Wei Wuxian is obviously still out of the loop on that development, but Lan Wangji does not feel it is his place to tell him. He wouldn’t even know how to start. 

Wei Wuxian continues to study him, something unreadable moving behind his eyes.

“He is easy to talk to,” Lan Wangji concedes, hoping it will be sufficient to make Wei Wuxian stop looking at him.

Wei Wuxian purses his lips, but he eventually drops his gaze back to his coffee cup, and Lan Wangji relaxes just a millimetre or so.

“He likes you very much,” Wen Qing says matter of factly. “Let me know if you need any more detail on this week’s report,” she adds, deftly switching gears.

“Thank you, I will,” Lan Wangji replies, grateful for the change of subject.

“Since I’m sure you’re eager for more to read,” she says drily. “Especially with all the preparations for your fundraiser. How’s that going, by the way?”

“Very well,” he replies. “We are expecting a good turnout.”

“It sounds like it’s going to be quite the party. How does one go about getting an invitation?”

“You could be my date,” Wei Wuxian pipes up. “I’d be happy to get you in, although you’re going to have to endure more hopeful stares from Auntie Yu.”

“You’re invited?” Wen Qing asks. “How do you rate?”

“I’m an alumnus!” Wei Wuxian says indignantly. “One with plenty of money right now.”

“And your aunt?”

“Rich society people always rate. Besides, she paid the tuition of three students here, and she went to university with Lan Qiren back in the day.” Wei Wuxian shifts forward in his chair. “Seriously, though, come and keep me company.”

Wen Qing considers his offer before nodding thoughtfully.

“Sure, why not?” she says. “I wouldn’t mind torturing your family a bit more.”

Wei Wuxian grins wickedly. “I thought you might say that.”

Wen Qing turns back to Lan Wangji. “I look forward to the pleasure of seeing you there, Vice Director Lan.”

Lan Wangji inclines his head. “And I you, Vice President Wen.”

She nods back, satisfied, and then returns to her laptop. “Let’s get to work, shall we?” She glances wryly at Wei Wuxian. “Want me to get you a pair of tweezers?”

“Very funny,” Wei Wuxian says, but he’s smiling at her as he opens his own computer and gets to work.

Chapter Text

The next two weeks fly by, and suddenly, the gala is upon them. The grand ballroom at the Jins' largest hotel in Gusu is entirely at their disposal. Jin Guangshan had insisted on hosting the gala for free, calling it his contribution to the school and a favour to his old friend Lan Qiren.

Lan Wangji arrives early and makes sure to personally greet the vendors and the personnel who will help facilitate the black-tie event. He checks in with the event coordinator to make sure she has everything in order, and shortly after, Lan Qiren arrives to receive any updates. Soon, the doors are thrown open, and Lan Wangji stands with his uncle to greet a stream of well-dressed guests.  

It doesn’t take long for the room to be swimming with people, and Lan Wangji begins to lose track of who is freshly arrived and who has already been greeted, but almost an hour of door duty is enough for propriety’s sake, and eventually, he is free to leave his post. He’s never been especially thrilled about mingling at society events, but he knows how to behave himself, and he takes up a position near the wall not far from the stage where the piano and the string quartet are set up. He has a full view of the room this way, and he doesn’t feel as suffocated among people when he knows there is no one at his back.

“Vice Director Lan!”

He turns to see Luo Qingyang making her way toward him on Wen Ning’s arm. She’s looking happy and healthy in a pale yellow gown, her smile soft and kind.

“Luo Qingyang,” he bows slightly in greeting. “Wen Ning.”

Wen Ning ducks his head in reply. “Vice Director Lan.”

“You’re looking well,” Lan Wangji says to Luo Qingyang. “I am glad to see you out of the hospital and back in Gusu.”

“Thank you,” she says cheerfully. “I’m not cleared to be back at work full time, but I’m definitely okay to be here tonight. I just can’t drink much,” she adds.

“What fun is that?” says a light, smiling voice.

Lan Wangji feels a familiar lurch as he looks up to take in the sight of Wei Wuxian, formally styled in his svelte, black tuxedo. He’s accessorized with a blood red bowtie that matches perfectly with Wen Qing’s resplendent red gown. Jiang Cheng lingers a little bit behind them, his deep purple pocket square catching the light of the chandeliers.

“Wei Wuxian!” Luo Qingyang’s welcoming smile is wide and genuine. She extends her hand and Wei Wuxian takes it, giving her fingers a squeeze, his eyes scrunching up in good humour. Lan Wangji watches them carefully, but he detects no trace of awkwardness or tension. They must have communicated previous to arriving, because there’s also no evidence of surprise.

“It’s so nice to see you all dressed up!” Luo Qingyang enthuses. “Everyone looks so lovely!”

“And it’s so nice to see you out and about,” Wen Qing says kindly. “How are you feeling?”

“Wonderful, thank you! No small thanks to your brother,” she replies sweetly, giving Wen Ning an affectionate look. “He’s taken excellent care of me.”

“I didn’t do much,” Wen Ning says with a blush.  

“You put sanity back into my rattled brain and a hundred new songs into my heart,” Luo Qingyang says, voice sincere and eyes warm. “You did so much, Wen Ning.”

Lan Wangji glances at Wei Wuxian to gauge his reaction, but Wei Wuxian is merely grinning his lopsided grin, clearly amused at how Wen Ning has gone completely red.

“We’re all glad you’re doing so well, Mian Mian,” Wei Wuxian says.

Luo Qinyang flushes prettily. “Don’t call me that in front of the Vice Director!”

Wei Wuxian’s grin gets even wider, and Lan Wangji notes that his eyes are dancing in the same way they used to when he was torturing Jiang Cheng back in their high school days. “Sorry, Mian Mian!”

“Wei Wuxian!” she huffs. “I’m sorry I ever told you about that childhood nickname!”

Wen Ning shyly takes her hand and places it back on his arm. “Shall we go get a drink?” he offers. “You’re allowed at least one.”

“Yes, please,” she sniffs. “Take me away from this gremlin, just like the perfect gentleman you are.”

Wei Wuxian just laughs, and Luo Qingyang departs with a smile.

“A drink doesn’t sound so bad,” Jiang Cheng says, eyes drifting toward Wen Qing. “Would you—“

“Why, thank you,” Wen Qing says smoothly to the waiter from whom she’s just accepted a glass of champagne.

“Gentlemen?” says the waiter, proffering the tray.

Wei Wuxian takes two of the glasses and offers one to Jiang Cheng with a look of pure amusement. Jiang Cheng silently accepts the glass, face dour and defeated.

“Mind if I snag the last one?” comes a voice to their left.

Wei Wuxian’s whole face lights up as the group turns toward the speaker.

“Nie Huaisang!” Wei Wuxian exclaims, delighted. “Long time no see!”

Nie Huaisang sweeps the final glass of champagne off the tray with a smile, eyes glinting. “Gentlemen,” he says, raising the glass. “Fancy running into all of you here. It’s practically a class reunion! Although I don’t believe we’ve met,” he says to Wen Qing.

“Nie Huaisang, this is Wen Qing, my business partner,” says Wei Wuxian. “Wen Qing, this is Nie Huaisang, another old classmate.”

“Not just any old classmate,” Nie Huaisang says, wagging his finger. “The four of us were thick as thieves back then. And I probably have more dirt on Wei-xiong than his entire family combined,” Nie Huaisang winks.

“Now that is interesting,” Wen Qing says, smile sly. “You’ll have to save me a dance later so we can chat.”

Jiang Cheng chokes on his champagne.

“Hey now,” Wei Wuxian warns, although he is smiling widely. “Don’t get too carried away, Nie-xiong. I bet I could dig up a thing or two on you if I had to.”

“Aren’t you in the business of keeping secrets safe?” Nie Huaisang says lightly.

“You’re not paying me,” Wei Wuxian grins, and the two of them laugh.

“Excuse me,” interjects a bright and sunny voice. “Could I get a picture?”

They turn to see a young lady with a heavy looking camera smiling at them entreatingly.

“Of course!” Wei Wuxian says. “Where would you like us?”

“Just like that is fine,” she says. “Smile, everyone!”

She snaps a few shots and checks the screen. Looking satisfied, she lifts her smiling face to Lan Wangji and beams.

“Thanks, Professor Lan!”

“Professor?” Wei Wuxian says, taken aback.

“Oops,” says the photographer. “I guess it’s Vice Director Lan now, isn’t it?”

“It’s all right, Yang Neng,” Lan Wangji assures her. “I do not mind.”

“Oh, good,” Yang Neng says. “Because you’ll always be Professor Lan to me.”

“Lan Zhan was your teacher?” Wei Wuxian asks, curious.

Yang Neng nods enthusiastically. “Only the best teacher I’ve ever had,” she gushes. “I wasn’t a very good History student, but Professor Lan made it so interesting, I tried my best. Plus, I owe him my entire career.”

“Yang Neng,” Lan Wangji shakes his head fondly.

“It’s true!” she insists. “That letter you wrote for me got me into art school!”

“Your talent and ambition got you into art school,” Lan Wangji corrects her. “I merely helped open the door.”

“But that’s huge!” Yang Neng cries. “And besides, my parents never would have let me go if I hadn’t had your support. I’ll never forget how you helped me stand up for my dream.”

Wei Wuxian blinks at her, looking a little poleaxed. “He stood up for your dream?”

Yang Neng nods again. “My parents wanted me to be an accountant. Can you imagine? I would have died under all those spreadsheets. But Professor Lan had a meeting with my parents and convinced them to let me apply for art school. And now, here I am! We’re all like that, really.”

Wei Wuxian blinks again. “We?”

“Yes, we! We’re all former students,” says Yang Neng, gesturing around the room. “Hey, Cao Xupeng!” she calls. “Come over here for a second.”

A young man with a tray of hors d’oeuvres makes his way through the crowd toward them. “Hello,” he bows in greeting to the group. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“I was just telling this gentleman that we’re all former students of Professor Lan here tonight.”

“Ah, yes!” Cao Xupeng avers. “Yes, we are. My name is Cao Xupeng,” he bows again. “I was in the same year as Yang Neng, here.”

“And what do you do now?” Wen Qing asks kindly.

“I own the catering company that’s feeding you tonight,” he says proudly. “I sincerely hope you’re all enjoying the food,” he adds.

“It’s wonderful,” Nie Huaisang assures him, scooping up the miniature prime rib in Yorkshire pudding on Cao Xupeng’s tray and popping it into his mouth. “Just delicious!”

“And do you have an inspiring story about Vice Director Lan?” Wen Qing prompts, eyes sharp.

“Yes, of course, I most certainly do,” Cao Xupeng offers eagerly. “I was supposed to be a lawyer, but my passion was food. My parents really weren’t happy when I applied for culinary school, but Vice Director Lan had my back. He did everything he could to help allay my parents’ reservations. And he wrote me the most generous reference letter.”

“Cao Xupeng, please,” Lan Wangji says, uncomfortable with so much praise. “You have succeeded on your own merits.”

“Everyone needs some support, though,” Yang Neng interjects. “And you inspired all of us. You see the string quartet? The pianist? You gave all of us the push we needed to live our dreams. I know I’ll never forget it,” she says, eyes warm.

“You humble me,” Lan Wangji murmurs.

“I hope we are doing more than that,” says Cao Xupeng. He turns to Wei Wuxian, who is looking a little flushed. “We’re all donating half of our salary tonight, since Vice Director Lan wouldn’t let us work the event for free,” he explains.

“That’s very generous of you!” Nie Huaisang exclaims.

“It’s the least we can do,” Cao Xupeng says. “We all just want to give back and help Vice Director Lan.”

“Actually,” Yang Neng says, struck by inspiration. “Can I get a solo shot, Professor Lan?”

“I’d rather you did not,” Lan Wangji demurs. He’s still a little uncomfortable with all this attention, and he can’t help but notice how agitated Wei Wuxian seems to have become. It makes something old and uneasy roil in his stomach.

“Then how about a shot with Cao Xupeng?” she persuades. “Think of it as a portrait of the Academy’s legacy. Teacher and student, side by side in success?”

“I’d be honoured, Vice Director Lan,” Cao Xupeng says, suddenly a little shy.

“If you insist,” Lan Wangji relents.

He allows himself to be positioned against the wall, Cao Xupeng at his side. He feels a bit stiff, almost out of place next to the shining, youthful presence of his former student, but Lan Wangji feels a genuine swell of pride in his chest. He misses teaching, he thinks with a sudden, wistful ache.

Yang Neng takes several shots from slightly different angles, then she reviews the roll and nods in satisfaction.

“Thanks!” she says, smiling bright and wide. “These will be a great addition to tonight’s output.” She turns to address Wei Wuxian and the rest of the group. “Make sure to check out the silent auction. I’ve got a few pieces up for bidding. I specialize in portraiture, and I’ve offered up some of my best. One of these days, I’m going to convince Professor Lan to sit for me,” she grins.  

“We’d better get back to work now,” Cao Xupeng says. “It was very nice talking to all of you. Please enjoy the rest of the evening.”

Yang Neng and Cao Xupeng disappear back into the crowd, leaving Lan Wangji standing alone against the wall. Wei Wuxian shifts awkwardly, still looking flushed, and Jiang Cheng coughs. Nie Huaisang looks between the three of them appraisingly, then smiles at Wen Qing where she is standing off to the side.

“So, where are you originally from?” Wen Qing throws out a lifeline.

“Qinghe,” Nie Huaisang replies easily.

“And how long are you in Gusu?”

“Oh, another month at least. Certainly until the next society event of the season, in any case.”

“And that is?”

“Lan Yi’s concert. She’s what, a cousin? Aunt?” he asks Lan Wangji.

“My Uncle’s cousin,” Lan Wangji supplies.

“Anyway, she is a phenomenal guqin player,” Nie Huaisang continues, “and she only gives concerts a few times a year. She’s scheduled to play next month here in Gusu, and it’s definitely the place to be. I’ll be staying in town on business until then.”

“And what is your business?” Wen Qing wants to know.

“Antiques, jewellery, fine arts, and any other object of luxury us society types would pay an inordinate amount of money for. My brother and I run an auction house,” Nie Huaisang explains. “He’s back in Qinghe manning the fort while I go exploring in search of new business.”

“Lucky you,” Wen Qing observes. “Sounds like you have the fun job.”

“This time, I do,” Nie Huaisang allows. “I’ve certainly had my fair share of less fun things to do in the last few years,” he says, almost darkly.

“That sounds a bit ominous,” Wen Qing says.

“Doesn’t it?” Nie Huaisang replies, voice light again. “But let’s not dwell on unhappy things. Tonight should be a celebration, and I came to contribute to the festivities.” He turns to Lan Wangji. “My chequebook may not be what it once was, but it is at your disposal.”

“We are much obliged,” replies Lan Wangji. “Your contribution is appreciated.”

“Maybe I will check out that silent auction,” Nie Huaisang muses. “Care to come along?” he offers to Jiang Cheng.

“Can’t,” Jiang Cheng says, gesturing at the entrance “My mother and sister just showed up with Jin Zixuan. We should go greet them,” he says to Wei Wuxian.

“Right,” Wei Wuxian mutters, clearly still agitated.

“All right, then,” says Nie Huaisang. “I’ll catch up with you all later. And I’ll be back for that dance,” he smiles at Wen Qing.

“I’m counting on it,” she replies.

Jiang Cheng looks choked.

Wen Qing turns to Lan Wangji. “Well?” she prompts. “What about you? Aren’t you going to ask me to dance?”

Jiang Cheng flushes crimson.

“Would that please you?” asks Lan Wangji, ignoring the way Jiang Cheng is glaring at him.

“It might,” Wen Qing smiles.

“In that case,” Lan Wangji extends his hand. “Would you care to dance?”

“I’d be honoured,” she says, gracefully accepting his hand.

It’s easy for Lan Wangji to ignore Jiang Cheng’s bitter gaze. It’s not so easy to ignore the way Wei Wuxian is tracking him across the room with a baleful glare as he leads Wen Qing to the dance floor.

“So,” Wen Qing says as he sweeps her into a waltz. “Thick as thieves, were you?”

“I suppose so,” Lan Wangji allows. “All four of us were in the same class for a year and a half.”

“Ah, that’s right,” she says. “You don’t move classrooms here like we do in the US.”

“No, we do not.”

“What happened to the next year and a half?” she asks curiously

“I did not complete high school in Gusu. I transferred to our campus in London and graduated from there, instead.”

“And how long were you a teacher?” she asks.

“Only for two years,” he replies. “I was the Vice Principal. I taught History and Classical Chinese Literature.”

“And did you enjoy it?”

“Very much.”

“It seems you’ve made quite the impact for such a short amount of time,” she says. “How many of your students are here tonight?”

“A dozen or so,” he estimates. “The event coordinator is one. Some of the others are actually employed by the hotel. And the musicians, as Yang Neng pointed out, are all former students of mine.”

“Inspired by your own musicianship, perhaps?”

“I did not teach any of them music,” Lan Wangji says. “But they were aware that I used to play.”

“Why did you stop?” Wen Qing wants to know.

“Music?” he asks.

“Teaching,” she replies. “Although I’m curious about the music, too.”

“I was destined for a position on the board,” he says, sidestepping her inquiry about music. “My time as a teacher was always going to be limited, and my Uncle required my help on the board even sooner than anticipated.”

“And the music?” she presses, not letting him off the hook.

He pauses for a moment, considering his answer as they continue to glide across the dance floor.

“It didn’t have a place in my life anymore,” he finally answers. “And it has been said that I lack the passion to be a true musician.”

“Do you?” she says, eyes sharp and curious.

“I’m afraid I must,” he says, not without pain. Wei Wuxian’s words echo in his mind, cutting him deeply.

“I find that hard to believe,” Wen Qing says. It sounds a little like a challenge.

“Oh?” Lan Wangji is curious in spite of himself. He can’t imagine how his dour, humourless countenance could hint at anything but an absence of feeling.

“Still waters run deep,” she says simply. “And you are very still.”

Lan Wangji is strangely gratified to hear it.

The music stops, marking the end of the dance, and Wen Qing takes Lan Wangji’s arm as he leads her off the floor. They meet up with Luo Qingyang and Wen Ning, who are sampling the array of canapes on offer at the food table. Lan Wangji excuses himself and heads to the bar in search of water. While he is waiting, he feels a presence at his side, and Lan Wangji turns, coming face to face with Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji observes the tightness in his face. He is caught in Wei Wuxian’s flinty, accusing stare, and Lan Wangji can feel himself closing off and shutting down in response, heartsore and resigned.

Wei Wuxian stares him down for what feels like an eternity, but finally, he speaks.

“You have some impressive students,” he says, voice low.

“Thank you,” Lan Wangji replies carefully.

“You must be very proud of them.”

“I am,” he says, still cautious.

“Tell me,” Wei Wuxian says, something old and angry flashing across his eyes. “Why were their dreams worth more than yours?”

Lan Wangji does his best not to flinch. Guilt twists in his stomach, heavy and rancid, but he feels a spike of defensiveness, a protective instinct that wants to guard his students and his time as their teacher from judgment.

“Because,” he manages, his voice tinged with the edges of an old sorrow. “They were possible.”

It’s Wei Wuxian’s turn to flinch, and it gives Lan Wangji no satisfaction to see it.

Wei Wuxian swallows down whatever emotion he’s battling and opens his mouth to reply, but he is interrupted by the arrival of Jin Guangyao.

“Lan Wangji,” Jin Guangyao bows. “What a pleasure it is to see you again, and an honour to be here tonight. Congratulations on such a successful evening.” He turns to Wei Wuxian. “And you, Wei Wuxian. Lovely to see you again. I hope you’ve been well since the 100 day celebration?”

“Yes, thank you,” Wei Wuxian says, voice relaxed again. “I’m a little surprised not to see your father here tonight. It’s a nice hotel you’ve got here.”

“Father is unwell,” Jin Guangyao replies. “I am here as his representative. I’m not an alumnus, after all.”

“I don’t think that matters, so long as you come bearing money,” Wei Wuxian says carelessly.

Jin Guangyao laughs, soft and silvery. “And that, at least, I can do.” He turns back to Lan Wangji. “Your brother is still well, I hope?”

“He is,” Lan Wangji replies. “He regrets that he could not be here tonight, but his schedule would not allow for it.”

“He doesn’t seem to be home very often these days,” Jin Guangyao observes, eyes hooded. “You must miss him.”

“His absence is felt,” Lan Wangji allows.

“Indeed it is,” Jin Guangyao murmurs. “But perhaps I have reason to hope I will be seeing much more of him soon.”

“Oh?” Lan Wangji prompts. He wonders whether or not his brother would welcome that idea.

“Yes,” Jin Guangyao says, smile unfolding sweetly. “Perhaps you recall I was trying to tell you as much when we were interrupted by my cousin at the banquet. An unfortunate event that I do apologise for,” he adds.

“No need,” Lan Wangji shakes his head.

“In any case,” Jin Guangyao continues, “I will soon have business in London. The family has recently acquired a block of land that we’re redeveloping in London’s Chinatown.”

Wei Wuxian raises an eyebrow. “Needs to be gentrified, does it?”

“I prefer the term improved,” Jin Guangyao parries. “The former landlord let the area deteriorate, and we intend to make much better use of the land.”

“So what’s the improvement plan?” Wei Wuxian asks, somewhat wry.

“We intend to build a new cultural centre for the Chinese community. We’ll be working closely with the existing London Chinese Community Centre, which is of course thriving. But where they work with everything from the integration of ex-pats to special support of the elderly community, our centre will concentrate strictly on traditional Chinese arts. Music, calligraphy, painting, dance—we hope to have an exhaustive schedule of programs and classes available, with a focus on youth, so as to better preserve Chinese culture and identity abroad.”

“Sounds ambitious,” Wei Wuxian observes. “When’s that set to launch?”

“We’ve already broken ground,” Jin Guangyao replies. “The plans were finalized a month ago. We hope to have it open by this time next year. Father has put me in charge of its opening operations.”

“I see,” says Lan Wangji. “You will be relocating to London, then?”

“Eventually, yes,” Jin Guanyao nods. “But first, I have quite a lot of work to do here. Recruitment, for example. I’m in search of some exceptional individuals for a few key positions.” He levels a pointed look at Lan Wangji. “Which is why I especially wanted to speak to you about the project.”

Lan Wangji blinks. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” Jin Guangyao says, voice warm. “Who better to manage and facilitate the new music program for the centre than you, Lan Wangji? Think of it,” he presses on. “You would design and implement a curriculum based around traditional Chinese music. Classes for traditional instruments, curated performances from local and international artists, concerts for the students of the centre. And of course, I would hope that you might be persuaded to teach some classes yourself. Your skill with the guqin is almost unparalleled.”

Lan Wangji is completely taken aback. “I haven’t played for years.”

“Something so ingrained can hardly be forgotten,” Jin Guangyao argues. “Especially for a musician of your calibre.”

Lan Wangji shakes his head. “Music is like any other skill. It requires practice. If I myself am the instrument, then I’m afraid I’ve fallen into disuse.”

“I cannot believe you wouldn’t be quick to pick it up again,” Jin Guangyao says. “It would hardly take a minute, I’m sure. You were a prodigy. And furthermore, who else has such a combination of musical prowess paired with such a wealth of experience in educational administration? No, you are utterly perfect for this position, Lan Wangji.”

Lan Wangji shakes his head again. “My responsibility is to the academy,” he protests. “I could not abandon my Uncle in his duties.”

“Of course not,” Jin Guangyao says, sounding apologetic. “But it would hardly be abandonment. You would have the better part of a year to transition someone into your role, and I’m certain a suitable replacement could be found. Please consider. Is there really another opportunity better suited to your talents and abilities as this?”

Lan Wangji stares at him, feeling a tiny bit flustered, but his face is schooled to be absolutely impassive. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Wei Wuxian watching him like a hawk.

“You would be closer to your brother,” Jin Guangyao adds. “And you know the city already, having spent your school days there. It’s a lovely place. Some of my happiest days were spent in London,” he says, voice a touch wistful. “I’m sure it would be such a comfort to your brother to have you in the same city again.”

Lan Wangji is about to reply when there is a break in the music and the sound of a glass being tapped for attention echoes throughout the room, amplified by the microphone beside it. They turn toward the stage, where Lan Qiren is about to speak.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the Gusu Academy’s fundraising gala. I want to personally thank all of you for coming out tonight for this worthy cause. I would also like to extend a special thank you to the Jin family for hosting this event.” He raises his glass in a salute to Jin Zixuan, who is standing close to the stage, then he turns to give a nod to Jin Guangyao, who raises his own glass in response. 

“Gusu Academy has always been committed to providing the best education possible for its students, and your generous donations tonight ensure that our administrators and our faculty can continue to focus exclusively on that. We look forward to continuing our support of you, your children, and our community in the pursuit of academic excellence. Please enjoy the rest of the evening.”

“And don’t forget to give generously!” Nie Huaisang shouts from the side, inspiring a chorus of laughter and applause from the crowd.  

Jin Guangyao smiles as he applauds, turning back to Lan Wangji as the noise dies down again.

“You have a wonderful school here,” he says. “I can understand why you would be hesitant to leave it. But do consider. You would be such an asset to me. To the centre,” he adds.

“I’m flattered by your offer,” Lan Wangji says. He feels Wei Wuxian continuing to watch him.

“Please don’t decide so quickly,” Jin Guangyao entreats him, sensing another refusal. “Think on it a little. And in the meantime, I’d like to make you another offer.”

Jin Guangyao reaches into his suit jacket and extracts a blank cheque.

“Might I have a pen?” he asks the bartender. “Thank you,” he says as the bartender fulfills his request.

“I noticed you have quite the array of goods on offer at the silent auction,” Jin Guangyao continues as he begins to fill out the cheque. “Unfortunately, there’s something I desire that does not appear to be up for bidding. And so, I present this to you with a simple request.”

Jin Guangyao signs the cheque with a flourish and holds it up for Lan Wangji’s inspection. Beside him, Wei Wuxian balks at the number of zeroes.

“That is an extremely generous donation,” Lan Wangji says, unflustered. “And the request?”

“A performance,” Jin Guangyao says, eyes sharp and sparkling. “On the piano, of course. I would have you play for us.”

Lan Wangji blinks in surprise. “I’m afraid I would only disappoint you. I am woefully out of practice.”

“I doubt that,” Jin Guangyao says, smile unfaltering. “I insist. I must hear you play.”

 Lan Wangji hesitates, uncertain how to decline him.

Jin Guangyao adds another zero. “Can you really not be persuaded? I am certain you are up to the challenge. And it is indeed a challenge,” he adds. “For this amount of money, I feel I ought to be entitled to specify the piece.”

“What would you have me play?” Lan Wangji asks, curious in spite of himself.

“Liszt’s Sonata in B Minor,” Jin Guangyao says smoothly.

Lan Wangji widens his eyes fractionally. “That is a very difficult piece.”

“Impossible for some, I’m sure,” Jin Guangyao agrees. “It was the last piece you ever played in competition, is it not?”

“It is,” Lan Wangji replies, surprised again. He’s not sure why Jin Guangyao should know that.

“Then I suspect it is something you would have practiced extensively. Perhaps enough to have committed it to memory?”

“Years ago, perhaps,” Lan Wangji protests. “I don’t know if I could recall it all now.”

“I am positive that you can,” Jin Guangyao says, gaze unwavering. “Indeed, I am quite confident that you underestimate your own abilities. Your own passion,” he adds pointedly.

Lan Wangji draws himself up at that. Something about Jin Guangyao’s tone of voice pricks at his heart. Beside him, Wei Wuxian shifts uncomfortably.

“Do it for the academy,” Jin Guangyao prompts, voice smooth and soft, fingers delicately playing along the edges of the cheque. “Do it for your students. For all the future students.”

Lan Wangji lets his eyes settle on the cheque in Jin Guangyao’s hands.

“Liszt’s Sonata in B Minor,” he confirms.

Jin Guangyao’s eyes are glinting gold in the light from the chandeliers. “I will have no other,” he croons. He fixes Lan Wangji with a pointed, challenging stare. “Play for us. Show us all what it really means to feel something, Lan Wangji.”

Lan Wangji meets that gaze head on.

“Very well,” he concedes.

He makes his way toward the stage, his heart beginning to beat a little faster with every step. He speaks to the pianist and the string quartet, and by the time he is seated at the piano, absently running through his warmup exercises, his pulse is racing in anticipation. He finishes his warmup and sits frowning at the keys. Distantly, he is aware that a crowd is forming closer to the stage, people drifting toward him as if drawn by a magnet.

What is he thinking, accepting this challenge? It’s a nearly impossible request, and he wonders idly at Jin Guangyao’s insistence at having him attempt it. Lan Wangji closes his eyes, reaching far back into the memory of that long ago competition. It had taken months of practicing to feel ready, and here he is, about to dive into a formative piece of music without so much as a dry run in the last thirteen years. But now that he’s here, Lan Wangji is committed to trying, and he feels an old surge of determination rising in his chest.

Carefully, he places his hands on the keys and takes a deep breath, letting the noise of the crowd fade from his awareness as he hones his focus. He opens his eyes and lets the room fall away, heedless of the eyes on him. He feels nothing but the ivory beneath his fingers. He hears nothing but the rhythm of his own heart.

Slowly, he begins to play. Notes that have laid buried for years in his subconsciousness rise gently from memory as if through water, breaking the surface and rippling out through his fingertips. He recalls the way it had felt to play this piece so many years ago, the grueling hours of practice, the final triumph at the recital when he’d taken first place. He feels the stirrings of an old pride, long dormant, unfurling in his chest with the rise of the music. It swells in time with the soaring movements, blossoms in the quieter spaces between notes, sprawls out across the ivory in front of him as his fingers fly up and down the keys.  

He can feel his adrenaline rising as the piece picks up in pace, the theme growing menacing, almost violent before it unspools into another peaceful, beautiful melody. But the lull is shortlived; there are no true gaps between the movements. The melody descends deliciously before leaping up the scales again, back and forth, and up and down, giving no quarter until it transforms into another soft caress of sparkling high notes that run and skip and skitter back into a bombastic, rapid-fire harmony.

Lan Wangji gives himself over to the piece. He sways with it, lets it carry him on its way. He is merely a vessel for this great, swelling sound, this violent, triumphant, melodious journey. He loses track of time, loses track of everything except the vibrations of the piano, the way he feels each note inside his ribcage, ricocheting off his heart. It’s exhilarating. It’s euphoric.

The piece begins to unwind, slowing down toward its final, elegiac conclusion, and Lan Wangji descends with it, euphoria sharpening into razor focus as the last notes are coaxed out of the ivory, rumbling low and soft before a final, twinkling farewell. He breathes deeply and lets himself go completely still as the last note fades. The world gradually comes back into focus around him, and Lan Wangji becomes aware of the uproarious applause that surrounds him.

He rouses himself and stands from the bench, making his way to the front of the stage and bowing deeply. He stands up straight and surveys the crowd, basking in the rush of adrenaline that’s yet to fade, savouring the old sense of pride that suffuses his body. His eyes find Jin Guangyao, applauding steadily and loudly, a knowing, satisfied smile stretched across his face. He looks to where Wei Wuxian is standing beside Jin Guangyao, and Lan Wangji freezes at the sight of him. 

Wei Wuxian is not applauding. He is merely standing there, arms at his sides, still as a statue. His face is an open wound, mouth slack, cheeks flushed and eyes wet, his brow creased in something like agony. He is staring directly at Lan Wangji, and when their eyes lock, Lan Wangji has to catch his breath at the spike of pain that strikes in his chest. He feels a rush of sickly heat, and Lan Wangji is suddenly desperate to get off the stage.

He doesn’t stumble as he makes his way down, nodding in silent acknowledgment at the people who are thanking him before he is accosted by Wen Ning and Luo Qingyang.

“Oh my God, Vice Director!” Luo Qingyang gushes. “That was absolutely amazing!”

“That was outstanding!” Wen Ning agrees furiously. “I can’t believe you told me you only played a little. I could never even attempt something like that. Truly, that was awe inspiring.”

“Thank you,” Lan Wangji says, still feeling a bit of the rush. “I’m gratified that you enjoyed it.”

“Well played, indeed,” Wen Qing says, materializing behind her brother. She regards Lan Wangji with a new appreciation. “Truly astounding.”

“Well met,” declares Jin Guangyao, having made his way through the crowd. He holds out the cheque with two hands and bows a little before Lan Wangji. “An astonishing triumph. I knew I was right to believe in you.”

Lan Wangji accepts the cheque with a nod. “Thank you,” he says.

He catches sight of Wei Wuxian over Jin Guangyao’s shoulder, his mouth set into a thin line. Lan Wangji swallows, feeling somewhat exposed and raw after his performance, and he shutters himself, withdrawing under the weight of Wei Wuxian’s gaze.

“An absolute victory,” Jin Guangyao says, elated. “I knew it. I knew you were capable of such a feat. I absolutely must have you,” he vows.

Wei Wuxian snaps his head around to look at Jin Guangyao, eyes pained.

“I must have you for the centre,” Jin Guangyao continues. “I’ve never heard anyone play as you do. Such raw passion,” he enthuses, “is a rarity indeed. I shall not give up, now that you have revealed yourself to me.”

“You flatter me,” Lan Wangji protests, feeling unsettled. The high is wearing off, and it’s being replaced by a quiet anxiety. He can’t help but notice how Wei Wuxian seems to flinch at Jin Guangyao’s words.

“I do no such thing,” Jin Guangyao retorts. “I exalt a true talent. I recognise a true passion. And I shall relentlessly pursue that which I mean to have flourish with me in London,” he says with a serene smile.

He raises a hand to forestall Lan Wangji’s next objection.  “Do not reject me just yet,” Jin Guangyao entreats him. “There is still time to think it over. Please, take all the time you need. I trust you to come to the right decision for yourself.” He bows slightly. “Thank you for indulging me tonight. I will not soon forget it.”

Lan Wangji returns the bow, still unsettled, then straightens as Jin Guangyao takes his leave and disappears back into the crowd. He lets out the breath he’s been holding, but he doesn’t dare look at Wei Wuxian again. He doesn’t dare see his old devastation reflected there.

“Well, wasn’t that something,” Nie Huaisang exclaims, appearing suddenly at Wei Wuxian’s side. “I had no idea a piece of music could make me feel like that. Well done, Lan Wangji!”

“Wasn’t it fantastic?” Wen Ning bubbles over in his admiration. “It really was something special, Vice Director Lan.”

“Thank you,” Lan Wangji says again, softening toward Wen Ning’s pure and simple enthusiasm. At the edge of his vision, he watches Wei Wuxian clench his fists.

“Seriously, that was pretty incredible, wasn’t it?” Nie Huaisang throws an arm around Wei Wuxian’s shoulders. “Almost made me tear up a bit.”

Wei Wuxian suddenly shrugs out from under Nie Huaisang’s arm. He averts his eyes, mutters something unintelligible, and then he turns on his heel and flees.

Nie Huaisang blinks. “Was it something I said?”

Wen Qing clears her throat in the ensuing silence.

“How about that dance?” she says to Nie Huaisang.

“Of course!” he exclaims, offering his arm. “Shall we?”

The two of them depart for the dance floor, and Lan Wangji excuses himself from the rest of the group, making his way to the bar in hopes of finally securing himself a glass of water. He takes slow, steady sips and wills himself back to some semblance of inner calm.

Jin Guangyao’s words echo in his mind. Outside of the praise that Lan Wangji had not particularly cared for, Jin Guangyao had offered him something truly tempting. The chance to work extensively with music, with music programs and students, sparks something old and battered inside of him. Something almost like hope.

He thinks of the academy, he thinks of his uncle, and he chides himself for thinking this could be a possibility. But a small voice inside of him wants to know, why not? Why couldn’t it be? For the same reasons he had forsaken music all those years ago, he tells himself.

And yet.

Something inside of him thrills at the idea that he was recognised. Jin Guangyao had challenged him to be himself in a way that no one has asked him to do since he was a teenager, and Lan Wangji had risen to the challenge even in spite of his own protests.

But his heart twists painfully at the thought of Wei Wuxian, the last person who had challenged him. Wei Wuxian had begged Lan Wangji to stay the course, to choose something that would have nourished his soul, and Lan Wangji had been unable to do that for him. He thinks of Wei Wuxian’s devastated expression, of the ruined, barefaced anguish he’d seen reflected in his eyes after the performance, and it flays him to the bone.

Lan Wangji closes his eyes and breathes in deeply, almost welcoming the return of his oppressive melancholy as it settles over his senses, blunting the edges of the world where they rub up against him.

On Monday, he will return to work. He will put away thoughts of Jin Guangyao, and London, and Wei Wuxian. He will fold up the memory of tonight’s performance and tuck it away somewhere dark, and safe, and hidden.

And he will carry on.

Chapter Text

Monday morning finds Lan Wangji arriving early to his own office, and he is surprised to find a large bouquet of irises waiting for him on his desk. Their deep, velvety purple is aglow in the sunlight from the window, and Lan Wangji extracts a card from amongst the blossoms.

[Congratulations again on a formidable performance. I can only hope to look forward to working with you in the future.] 

The card is unsigned, but there can be no doubt as to who it is from. Lan Wangji marvels at his persistence, fingering the edges of the card in his hands. He looks up and turns when there is a knock at his door, and Lan Wangji is surprised for the second time that morning as Wei Wuxian enters his office.

“Hi,” Wei Wuxian says, voice soft and pitched just a touch too high. He clears his throat before continuing. “Do you have a minute?”

“Of course,” Lan Wangji manages, heart in his throat.

“I—“ Wei Wuxian starts, but he cuts himself off, eyes landing on the irises. He flicks his gaze between the vase and the card in Lan Wangji’s hand. “What are those?”

“Ah,” Lan Wangji says, self-consciously tucking the card behind his back. “A token of congratulations. For the performance at the gala,” he clarifies.

Something dark and heavy flickers across Wei Wuxian’s eyes, deep and wishful, but it’s gone as quickly as it surfaced, and Lan Wangji wonders if he imagined it.

“Jin Guangyao?” Wei Wuxian asks, voice a little strained.

Lan Wangji nods, feeling awkward.

“I suppose I should thank him,” Wei Wuxian says, tone forcibly light. “Since you wouldn’t have played otherwise, would you?”

“No,” Lan Wangji replies. “I would not.”

“It’s a good thing he persuaded you, then,” Wei Wuxian says, eyes downcast. “It was…” He swallows. “It was wonderful.”

Lan Wangji can’t help himself when he speaks next.

“You did not seem to enjoy it,” he says, sounding almost apologetic.

Wei Wuxian snaps his eyes up. “I did,” he avers. “I did enjoy it.” He swallows again. “It was a little overwhelming,” he admits.

Lan Wangji stares at him, his heart constricting, sudden and sharp. There’s something old and wounded stirring there, and Lan Wangji tamps down on it violently.

“You’re really amazing,” Wei Wuxian says quietly, and he smiles, small and tentative, eyes shining.

Lan Wangji drops his gaze, unable to withstand the way that smile twists like a knife in his gut.

“Was there something you needed?” he asks, perhaps a bit abruptly.

The smile falls from Wei Wuxian’s face, and he flushes a little before dropping his eyes to the folder in his hands.

“Right,” he says. “Business.” He takes a step forward and offers up the folder. “This week’s progress report.”

“You didn’t have to bring it by personally,” Lan Wangji says as he accepts it.

“Actually, I did,” Wei Wuxian replies. “Because I also have something to tell you.”

“Oh?” Lan Wangji prompts, feeling a nervous swoop of his stomach.

“I have to go on a bit of a hiatus,” Wei Wuxian says. “From the extraction project. I promise it won’t affect the day to day operations of the academy. Things can keep operating just like they are now, but I’ll have to put the project on hold for about a month.”

“A month?” Lan Wangji says, somewhat surprised.

Wei Wuxian nods. “Some things have come up that I need to take care of. I’ll mostly be in Yiling, and I’ll be available if you need to contact me, but I’ll be leaving Wen Ning behind to answer any questions your staff might have about the new programs we’ve installed thus far. We’re not charging you, don’t worry,” he adds quickly. “This is a completely unforeseen circumstance, so it’s obviously outside the scope of our contract.”

Lan Wangji nods, unsure of what to say.

“Wen Qing will be back and forth,” Wei Wuxian continues. “So you’ll have her support as well. I really am sorry for the hiccup, but I just…” he trails off and clears his throat. “I just have to deal with this,” he finishes.

“I understand,” says Lan Wangji, although he feels like he understands very little. Wei Wuxian seems a bit nervous, a bit preoccupied, and Lan Wangji cannot fathom what’s prompted his change in mood.

“Thank you,” Wei Wuxian says. For a moment, his eyes fall back to the bouquet on Lan Wangji’s desk, and something grim flashes across his face, but it disappears quickly as he looks back up.

“I guess I’ll see you in a month or so,” Wei Wuxian says. “Maybe sooner, though?” he asks tentatively.

Lan Wangji tilts his head in question.

“Lan Yi’s concert,” Wei Wuxian clarifies. “Nie Huaisang got me a ticket. I’m assuming you’ll be there?”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji replies, caught a little off guard. “I will be attending with my Uncle.”

Wei Wuxian nods, eyes flicking away again at the mention of Lan Qiren.

“Well, I’ll see you there, then.” He looks back up and locks eyes with Lan Wangji. “I’ll be going now. Take care of yourself, Lan Zhan,” he says, voice soft.

Lan Wangji almost winces as he’s hit with a sudden spike of yearning. How long has it been since he’s heard his name said so gently like that?

“Have a safe trip, Wei Ying,” he manages to reply.

Wei Wuxian smiles and slips out of Lan Wangji’s office, leaving Lan Wangji to battle down the longing that’s threatening to choke him. He drops his arms to his sides, the report still held in one hand, and the card slips from between his fingers to land back on the desk. He stares at it lying in the shadow of the bouquet and loses himself in thoughts of London.

The position does seem tailor-made for him, and Lan Wangji wonders idly if it was designed with him in mind. But the more he turns over Jin Guangyao’s offer in his mind, the more impossible it becomes to accept it. Lan Wangji still has the academy to think of, he still has his duty to do, and he is struck by the sudden, unwelcome awareness that he is weighed down by one more inescapable fact.

He is still in love with Wei Wuxian.

He is still in love with Wei Wuxian, and if he couldn’t hold on to his own dream for Wei Wuxian all those years ago, what right does he have to pursue something like it now? He had destroyed the one thing he’d wanted more than his own life, all for the sake of duty and a family legacy that he’s been shackled to since birth. None of that has changed. He couldn’t find it in himself to abandon it all now, could he?

Lan Wangji closes his eyes, feeling the beginnings of a headache start to throb at his temples. He moves around his desk, dropping the report in the middle, and he sweeps the card into a drawer, extracting a bottle of aspirin in the process. He quickly swallows two pills and shuts the bottle back into the drawer. He takes his seat and pulls up the day’s agenda on his calendar.

Time to get back to work.

---

“Thank you for taking my call, Wangji.”

Lan Xichen blinks out of the frame for a second before coming back into view on the screen. Lan Wangji can see the cup of tea he’s picked up to place on the desk in front of him. It’s a grey, rainy day outside in Gusu, March getting ready to turn into April. Lan Wangji can just make out the rain-streaked window behind his brother, the two of them sharing the same weather even an ocean away.

“Of course,” Lan Wangji replies. “I will always make time for you, Brother.”

Lan Xichen smiles. “I’m glad to hear it, especially since you must be very busy these days. Tell me,” he says. “How is the security project going?”

“Stalled,” Lan Wangji says. “At least insofar as the extraction is concerned.”

“Oh?” says Lan Xichen. “I was under the impression it should be looking to conclude soon?”

“Originally, yes,” Lan Wangji confirms. “Unfortunately, it had to be put on hold. Wei Wuxian is on hiatus,” he says carefully.

Lan Xichen’s face softens. “And how are you finding that?”

Lan Wangji shifts uncomfortably. “It’s fine,” he says, a touch sharply.

“Wangji,” his brother says. Lan Xichen’s voice is soft, but it’s heavy with sympathy.

“It is a relief not to see him every day,” Lan Wangji admits.

Unfortunately, relief is not the only thing he’s been feeling. Lan Wangji has caught himself missing Wei Wuxian too many times to count. Even if having him around causes Lan Wangji pain, it’s a strange, cruel comfort just to know that Wei Wuxian is there.

“And when does he return?” Lan Xichen asks.

“Soon,” Lan Wangji says. “He did not give a specific date. It most likely won’t be before the concert.” He pauses. “I expect to see him there.”

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen sighs. “Are you sure that is a good idea?” he asks delicately.

They have never discussed this. It has barely ever been acknowledged between them, and Lan Wangji would have been loath to talk about it had his brother ever asked. But Lan Xichen knows his brother, and he knows that the scars on Lan Wangji’s heart have never truly healed. He seems to know, in that deeply empathetic way he has, that Lan Wangji is suffering all over again, and that the pain is more acute than it has been in years.

“I could hardly avoid him,” Lan Wangji says. He sounds almost petulant to his own ears.

“It will be very crowded,” Lan Xichen offers. “You could easily use the other guests as a buffer. Or do you feel obligated to greet him?”

“Somewhat,” Lan Wangji admits. “When last we spoke, he seemed… intent on seeing me there.”

“Really?” Lan Xichen looks surprised. “Haven’t you said he’s been nothing but cold to you?”

“Not entirely,” Lan Wangji confesses. “Our last few interactions have been…”

Have been what, he wonders? Softer? Kinder? Perhaps Wei Wuxian has been moved to be gentler by pity? He hardly knows.

“You’re hopeful,” Lan Xichen says. It’s not a question.

“It’s not hope,” he corrects his brother with a sigh. “It is simply my own selfish desire to exist in his life again.”

“Wangji,” his brother admonishes. The obvious question remains unspoken. 

Lan Wangji drops his eyes from the screen, feeling exposed after such an admission.

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen says again, softer this time. “Have a care, Wangji. I would not have you wound yourself again.”

Lan Wangji looks back at his brother’s face on the screen, feeling raw. Of course Lan Xichen is speaking figuratively, but Lan Wangji is immediately reminded of another rainy day in London, a lifetime ago, and of the sharp edges on which he had ultimately thrown his life. His brother stares back at him, eyes brimming with kindness and sympathy, and suddenly, Lan Wangji needs to know.

“That day,” he begins. “The choice that I made. If I had chosen something different, would you still be with me?”

“Oh, Wangji,” his brother breathes, face collapsing in regret. “Of course I would be.”

Lan Wangji closes his eyes, feeling the world swim as he is rocked by a wave of despair. It’s blunted a little by time, but it still hits him with considerable force, and Lan Wangji has to take an extra moment to collect himself.

When he opens his eyes, Lan Xichen is still there, smiling softly, a little sadly, and Lan Wangji feels a rush of a different kind. It’s gratitude, pure and golden, warm and freeing. Lan Xichen has always been there. Through the trauma of losing their parents, through the gauntlet of their childhood, and through the utter devastation of Lan Wangji’s heartbreak, Lan Xichen has weathered every storm with him. The thought of being untethered from that connection is unbearable, and Lan Wangji acknowledges that he might still choose it over everything else if he had to.

“I will always be your brother, Wangji,” Lan Xichen vows. “Please, always know that.”

Lan Wangji nods, his throat constricted. He believes Lan Xichen with his whole heart.

“Thank you,” he manages, voice a little hoarse. “Thank you, Brother.”

Lan Xichen smiles at him, and Lan Wangji feels his heart settle as if landing softly in a cradle of feathers after a lonely, interminable fall. It’s a balm to his wounded soul to know that finally, finally, this is guaranteed. That perhaps, at least in this, he need not live in fear.

“Tell me about London,” Lan Wangji says. “Tell me about your day.”

And Lan Xichen does.

They do not speak further of Wei Wuxian. They do not speak of Jin Guangyao. They speak only of things ephemeral, inconsequential to the deepest corners of their hearts, and Lan Wangji is content, knowing that his brother holds the most important parts of him secure and safe, out of harm’s way, and that he will guard them for the rest of his life.

---

“So, tonight’s the big night?” Wen Qing asks.

Lan Wangji tilts his head. “Pardon?”

“The concert,” Wen Qing clarifies, accepting her Friday coffee from Lan Wangji. He has taken to showing up with a caffeine offering at the end of the week, as well.

“Yes,” he says. “Will you be attending?”

“No,” she smiles, slightly wry. “I’m just an uncouth American here on business, after all. I’m not cut out for your high society perambulations.”

“You fit in seamlessly at the gala,” Lan Wangji points out.

“That was a fun night of playing dress-up, wasn’t it?” she muses. “Alas, Cinderella has work to do now.”

Lan Wangji regards her with some traces of amusement. “Is the project really so arduous?”

“Not really,” Wen Qing admits. “At least not on its own. Combine it with everything else I have to keep track of, and it can be quite the circus. Not to mention the head clown is absent,” she quips. “Although he’ll be back to work next week.”

“I see,” Lan Wangji murmurs.

“He seemed pretty eager to get back to it when I saw him last week in Yiling,” Wen Qing continues. “I think he’s looking forward to coming back.”

Lan Wangji hums noncommittally, his eyes downcast.

“It’ll be nice to have someone to boss around again,” she adds, watching Lan Wangji carefully.

“He lets you boss him around?” Lan Wangji asks, amused again.

“He’d be a fool not to,” Wen Qing says loftily. “I am ninety percent of the reason anything gets done in this company. And the other ten percent is probably just A-Ning.”  

Lan Wangji lets out a small puff of air, the barest imitation of a laugh.

“Ah, I jest,” she says, waving away her own words. “He works hard. Often too hard. Sometimes, I feel like half my job is just getting him to slow down and take care of himself.”

“You care about him a lot,” Lan Wangji observes quietly.

“I do,” Wen Qing says, matter of fact. “And I like to think I know what’s best for him.” She gives Lan Wangji a look. “You’ll see him tonight, won’t you?”

“Most likely, yes,” Lan Wangji replies, feeling a small flicker of wistful anticipation in his chest. He seeks to quash it immediately.

“Good,” Wen Qing nods. “Make sure to say hi to him. He’d like that,” she says.

Lan Wangji nods in return. The flickering becomes more insistent.

“I’ll pass on your regards,” he says.

“Thank you,” she says, voice wry. “But make sure to pass on your own, while you’re at it.”

“Of course,” he replies, bowing just a little. He checks his watch and makes to leave. “I have a meeting to get to, but I will see you next week.”

Wen Qing smiles, waving him off.

“Have fun tonight,” she says. “And yes, I’ll see you next week.”

---

The lobby of the theatre is packed when Lan Wangji arrives with his uncle. They are relatively early, but the well-dressed crowd is already deep into the wine and conversation. He scans the sea of glittering gowns and satin-trimmed tuxedos and finds Nie Huaisang, who is fanning himself with an exquisite looking hand-painted fan. Beside him, Wei Wuxian is standing with a glass of wine in his hand, nodding along with whatever Nie Huaisang is saying to him.

Nie Huaisang catches sight of him and smiles, beckoning Lan Wangji over with his free hand. Lan Wangji steels himself and goes, remembering his promise to greet Wei Wuxian properly. He squashes the small fluttering of his heart as Wei Wuxian turns to meet him, eyes bright and cheerful.

“Lan Wangji,” Nie Huaisang greets him. “So glad to see you here tonight.”

“Likewise,” Lan Wangji nods. “Wei Ying,” he says to Wei Wuxian, voice carefully neutral.

“Lan Zhan,” smiles Wei Wuxian, and Lan Wangji has to steady himself at the warmth of Wei Wuxian’s tone.

Nie Huaisang smiles, a glint in his eye, and then excuses himself. “I need another drink,” he explains. “I’ll just be over at the bar.”

Wei Wuxian turns to face Lan Wangji squarely as Nie Huaisang disappears into the crowd. “Long time no see. How have you been?”

“I’ve been well,” he replies. “I trust your time away has been productive?” 

Wei Wuxian’s smile blossoms a little wider, eyes soft and shoulders relaxed. “It has been, thank you. I got a lot done. I even found some time to steal away to Lanling to see my sister.”

“I hope she is well?” Lan Wangji asks.

“Very well, thank you,” Wei Wuxian beams, always happy to speak of his sister. “It was really great to see her. And Jin Ling, of course, but mostly I just wanted to talk to Jiejie. It was nice. Restorative,” he adds.

“I am glad to hear it,” Lan Wangji says. “I trust you were able to resolve the issue that drew you away?”

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian says decisively, locking eyes with him. Lan Wangji is struck by the look of determination on his face. “I figured it out,” he says, voice softening.

Lan Wangji drops his gaze, mouth suddenly dry. He wishes he had a glass of water, if only to have something to do with his hands.

“How are things at the academy?” Wei Wuxian asks. “I hope nothing’s fallen apart while I was away.”

“Things are well,” Lan Wangji replies, thankful for the shift in subject. “Wen Qing has been a great help, as has Wen Ning. He seems especially happy to be of service at the academy.”

“I’ll bet,” Wei Wuxian smiles knowingly. “I imagine he’s happy to spend the extra time with Mian Mian.”

“They have been seen together quite often,” Lan Wangji concedes. “You are happy for them?” he asks tentatively.

Wei Wuxian nods without hesitation. “I am,” he avers. “Very happy. Although I admit, I was a bit surprised.”

“Naturally,” Lan Wangji says, feeling a whisper of his old jealousy.

Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “Not about her,” he explains. “Wen Ning. I was surprised he got so attached so easily. So quickly, really.”

Lan Wangji blinks at him. “You find it unusual?”

“A bit,” Wei Wuxian replies, looking thoughtful. “It’s just, he was so in love with A-Qing, and I know he’s been mourning her for almost a year, but I guess I just wasn’t expecting him to jump headlong into a relationship right around the anniversary of her death.”

Lan Wangji blinks again. “Do you think it unseemly?”

“Oh, God no! Nothing like that,” Wei Wuxian insists. “It’s just. Well…” he scratches the back of his neck, searching for his next words. “A first love like that… And it’s only been a year. What’s a year in the face of losing a love like that? Barely a blip.” Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “I can’t relate.”

Lan Wangji stands frozen, heart thundering in his chest as Wei Wuxian fixes him with another intense stare.

“I can’t imagine forgetting,” Wei Wuxian says, voice low and earnest. His eyes are swimming with something like longing.

Lan Wangji swallows, casting about for a reply and feeling his heart leap to lodge itself in his throat.  

“Perhaps he hasn’t forgotten,” he manages.

“No,” Wei Wuxian says, dropping his eyes at last. “Probably not.”

“How is the construction going in Yiling?” Lan Wangji asks, gathering himself and quickly switching topics.

“Good,” Wei Wuxian says, taking a deep breath and smiling again. “It’s really coming along. It’ll be finished in a month or two. I’d invite you back to see the final version, but you’re probably traumatized from last time.”

Lan Wangji shakes his head. “I would not be opposed to another visit,” he says sincerely. “It was not all suffering in Yiling that day.”

Wei Wuxian laughs softly. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Nie Huaisang materializes back at Wei Wuxian’s side.

“People are starting to get seated,” he says. “Concert will be starting soon, so we’d better get inside.”

“All right,” Wei Wuxian nods and places his empty wine glass on a side table. He looks at Lan Wangji with wide, imploring eyes. “I’ll see you at intermission?”

Lan Wangji can only nod in response.

Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang depart, leaving Lan Wangji to finish collecting himself. He takes a few deep, calming breaths, and then he ventures forth into the theatre to find his uncle and take his seat. It doesn’t take long for Lan Wangji to be seated beside his uncle, and he has barely begun to process the conversation he’s just had when a figure appears to claim the seat on his other side.

“Lan Wangji,” Jin Guangyao greets him, smile serene and pleased. “What a pleasant surprise to be seated together.”

“Jin Guangyao,” Lan Wangji nods, not feeling the same pleasure at the unexpected arrangement.

Jin Guangyao gracefully takes his seat and unfolds the program.

“I have been looking forward to this concert all month,” he says, voice light and melodious. “Although I doubt I will enjoy it any more than your own performance, last time we met.”

“Ridiculous,” Lan Wangji can’t help but say. “You go too far in your praise.”

“Indeed, I do not,” Jin Guangyao smoothly protests. “I don’t doubt that if you’d chosen to pursue a professional career, you would be esteemed just as much as Lan Yi.”

“I think not,” Lan Wangji says tightly.

“Perhaps not, then,” Jin Guangyao concedes, voice mollifying. He seems to understand that he may have overstepped. “Would you be opposed to answering some of my questions regarding the finer points of a guqin performance?”

“I would not,” Lan Wangji says, knowing it would be rude to refuse further conversation, even if that’s what he truly wishes to do. 

“I am much obliged,” Jin Guangyao says, and they settle into a comfortable silence as they await the beginning of the concert. 

Lan Wangji barely registers the first few songs, mired in a state of growing agitation. He finds himself unable to concentrate on the music, turning over the words of his conversation with Wei Wuxian instead. He replays it from every angle, hardly daring to believe what Wei Wuxian had said.

Wei Wuxian’s feelings about Wen Ning, his opinion on a first, strong attachment had struck Lan Wangji with all the force of a thunderclap, sudden and sharp. The aftershocks are just now rippling through his body, tingling at the tips of his fingers. The manner in which Wei Wuxian had spoken, his broken sentences, his careful word choices, all of it culminating in such an intimate look, a gaze of such intensity. Could it be, he thinks, his breath catching in his throat, that Wei Wuxian’s anger, his resentment, and his bitter recriminations have given way to something tinged with the tenderness of a past remembrance? That nostalgia has rendered him gentle, and even possibly forgiving?

Hope sparks so painfully in Lan Wangji’s chest that he almost doubles over, leaning forward in his seat. His hand flies to his heart, and he presses furiously against the scar throbbing underneath his shirt. He is dimly aware of Jin Guangyao watching him, but he pays him no mind. If asked, he will simply claim to have been overwhelmed by the music.

Intermission arrives for Lan Wangji after an agonizing bout of recollection, his memories strung out before him like beads on a string. He’s replayed every scene from the moment of Wei Wuxian’s return. His cruel words at the 100 day celebration, his barefaced devastation at the gala, his suddenly intimate way of speaking to Lan Wangji tonight. All of it crashes together, and Lan Wangji finds himself in a state of anxious confusion.

He startles slightly when Jin Guangyao gently places a hand on his arm. “Are you quite well?” he asks, voice dripping with concern.

“I am fine,” Lan Wangji assures him, even though he feels a little lightheaded. Beside him, Lan Qiren shifts to regard them.

“Wangji?” his uncle asks, concerned at what he sees. “Is everything all right?”

“Everything is fine, Uncle,” Lan Wangji insists. “I was merely overcome by emotion,” he says. Even now, he doesn’t want to lie to his uncle, but he is certainly not going to elaborate.

“That’s understandable,” Jin Guangyao says, sounding sympathetic. “A true musician inspires the purest reactions, especially in the heart of someone so deeply connected to music as yourself.” He smiles, eyes glinting. “You really are uniquely passionate. I can’t help but plead for your affirmative answer. I can hardly picture opening the centre without you.”

Lan Qiren frowns, looking curious but taken aback. “What centre is this?” 

“Ah, forgive me,” Jin Guangyao says, voice contrite. “Perhaps you have not had time to inform your uncle of my offer?”

“I have not,” Lan Wangji says stiffly. In truth, he had never intended to mention it, since he has been planning to turn Jin Guangyao down.

“Wangji,” Lan Qiren says darkly. “What is he referring to?”

“Perhaps,” Jin Guangyao smoothly interjects, “if you would allow me to explain?”

Lan Qiren nods, expression severe.

“I have extended an offer of employment to your nephew. I wish for him to accompany me to London and open the new cultural centre my family will be building there. Lan Wangji would be in charge of the music program,” he explains. “Rest assured, it would not happen right away. If he were to accept, there would be the better part of a year to transition a replacement.”

“I see,” says Lan Qiren, voice low and cold.

“I have not accepted,” Lan Wangji says quickly.

“You have not formally declined, either,” Jin Guangyao challenges. He holds up a hand as Lan Wangji prepares to reject him. “Do not do so now, I beg you. I ask for your consideration one more time. And do properly consider,” he beseeches. “Think of everything this opportunity has to offer you.”

“Wangji,” says Lan Qiren. “I would speak to you more about this. I am going to step outside. Consider joining me shortly.”

“Yes, Uncle,” Lan Wangji says, stomach twisting.

He watches his uncle leave, and as Lan Qiren heads up the aisle, Lan Wangji catches sight of Wei Wuxian standing with Nie Huaisang. They appear to be waiting for the crowd to thin out before heading for the lobby, but in the meantime, Nie Huaisang is whispering furiously to Wei Wuxian from behind his fan. The expression on Wei Wuxian’s face is hard to define; his brow is furrowed in concentration, his lips slightly pursed, intent on whatever Nie Huaisang is saying.

“I do apologise,” Jin Guangyao says beside him. “I did not mean to make things difficult with your uncle.”

Lan Wangji drags his eyes back to Jin Guangyao. “It’s fine,” he says. His uncle might be upset, but it’s of little consequence if Lan Wangji is not going to accept the offer. 

“Allow me to state my case one more time,” Jin Guangyao implores him. “I ask that you consider the very great benefits a move like this would have for you. Perhaps it is presumptuous for me to say, but I fervently believe that your chance of happiness in London is greater than anything you may have here.”

Lan Wangji is shocked by such a bold speech. He wants to bite back, to deny it, but the words die in his throat, and he finds that he cannot parry the strike.

“You would be doing something you love nearly every day,” Jin Guangyao presses on. “There would be growth and fulfillment. You would have a purpose, one that you could pursue with the passion I know you have.”

Lan Wangji realises he is holding his breath, and he slowly exhales. Jin Guangyao holds his gaze, his own steady stare melting ever so slightly.

“And you would be with your brother,” Jin Guangyao says softly. “You rarely see him now, but you could see him whenever you wanted if you were in London.”

At the mention of Lan Xichen, Lan Wangji can feel something in his face relax, as if he can feel the warmth of his brother’s smile coaxing his tension away.

Something in Jin Guangyao’s face also changes, his eyes pooling dark and deep, pupils wide and yearning. He reaches out a hand, and Lan Wangji freezes in shock as Jin Guangyao ghosts his fingers over the side of his face, tucking an errant strand of hair behind Lan Wangji’s ear and coming to rest with his thumb barely touching Lan Wanji’s cheek.

“Sometimes, you look so much like him,” Jin Guangyao whispers.

Lan Wangji jerks away suddenly, just an inch or so, snapped out of his shock by the sound of Jin Guangyao’s voice.   

Jin Guangyao retracts his hand, his expression immediately shuttering. “I apologise,” he says quickly, “I hope I have not offended you.”

“No, it’s fine,” Lan Wangji manages, heart racing uncomfortably.

Feeling eyes on him, he looks up the aisle to find Wei Wuxian staring right at him, his face unnaturally pale and his mouth sealed into a thin, hard line. When their eyes connect, Wei Wuxian seems to inhale sharply before he turns on his heel and walks briskly up the aisle and out into the lobby.

“I hope you will properly consider London,” Jin Guangyao is saying at his side, tranquil smile back in place. “Perhaps you will give me your final answer by the end of next week?”

“Yes, that’s fine,” Lan Wangji says, completely distracted. “Excuse me,” he says, turning away to make his way quickly into the aisle and up into the lobby.

His heart is hammering so hard against his ribcage that Lan Wangji thinks it might break the bones.

He spots Wei Wuxian at the bar, ordering what appears to be a couple of glasses of whiskey. But instead of taking one to Nie Huaisang, as Lan Wangji assumed he would, Wei Wuxian tosses back both glasses, one after the other, slamming each one back onto the bar emphatically. By the time Lan Wangji has made his way over, Wei Wuxian has already finished a third drink.

“Are you all right?” Lan Wangji asks, concerned at how flushed Wei Wuxian looks.

“What?” Wei Wuxian whips around, clearly agitated. “I—yes, I’m fine, I…” he trails off and swallows, eyes roving over Lan Wangji’s face and then falling away.

“Are you not enjoying the concert?” Lan Wangji asks, tentatively trying for neutral ground.

“No,” Wei Wuxian snaps his head up, face flushing. “I’m not,” he says flatly.

Lan Wangji tries not to flinch, taken aback by Wei Wuxian’s abrupt shift in mood.

“Besides,” Wei Wuxian mutters. “I just got a call from a client. I have to go.”

“Perhaps the second act will suit you better,” Lan Wangji tries. “Isn’t that worth staying for?”

“No,” Wei Wuxian bites out, voice sharp and a little unsteady. He fixes Lan Wangji with a wounded look. “There’s nothing here worth staying for.”

Shock hits him like a lightning bolt, and he has no time to reply before Wei Wuxian is shouldering past him and out into the night, not even bothering to visit the coat check. Lan Wangji’s heart stutters in his chest, seizing and faltering, constricting with a stabbing pain. He feels flushed, hit by a fresh wave of shame. How could he have thought, even for a moment, that Wei Wuxian had forgiven him? 

He moves mechanically away from the bar and nearly stumbles into his uncle.

“Wangji,” Lan Qiren says, tone full of disapproval. “When were you going to tell me about London?”

“I wasn’t,” Lan Wangji says flatly. He doesn’t want to have this conversation right now.

“You weren’t?” Lan Qiren is incredulous. “Was I supposed to find out when you finally left?”

“I don’t intend to leave,” Lan Wangji replies stiffly. “There was no need to inform you of an offer I meant to refuse.”

Lan Qiren looks surprised. “You mean to refuse?”

“Of course,” Lan Wangji nearly snaps. “Did you honestly expect otherwise?”

Lan Qiren bristles at his tone. “I might have,” his uncle says, sounding indignant.

“Why?” Lan Wangji suddenly wants to know.

“Because,” Lan Qiren begins. He looks almost flustered at the question, clearly not expecting Lan Wangji to have asked it. “It is certainly an opportunity that might have tempted you. You’re telling me you truly have no interest in it?”

“No,” says Lan Wangji, somewhat bitterly. “My responsibilities are here, with the academy.”

Lan Qiren averts his eyes momentarily. “Yes,” he says. “They are. But I thought perhaps…” he trails off.

“Perhaps what?” Lan Wangji prompts.

“That perhaps you are not happy in them,” His uncle finishes.

Lan Wangji replies before he can stop himself.

“Since when has that ever mattered?”

It’s as if the room has gone completely silent. Lan Wangji can no longer hear the noise from the people crowded around them; the clink of their glasses, the click of their heels, the low murmur of their collective voices. The whole world has narrowed down to the sight of his uncle and his clear, hard stare.

Lan Qiren blinks slowly, and gradually the room comes back into focus around him. Lan Wangji is suddenly very tired, disappointment and resignation settling like lead, cold and familiar in his chest.

“I apologise, Uncle,” he says. “I spoke out of turn.”

“No.” Lan Qiren’s voice is low and careful. “The fault is mine,” he says quietly. He looks at Lan Wangji with something new in his expression.

Something like regret.

Lan Wangji closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again, Lan Qiren is still looking at him, but his face is shuttered, expression neutral again.

“Shall we return to the theatre?” Lan Qiren offers.

Lan Wangji nods and follows his uncle back to their seats. He offers a small nod to Jin Guangyao as he takes his seat, and then Lan Wangji settles in for the rest of the concert. This time, he hones his focus and gives himself entirely over to the music, praying that it carries him far away from the crumbled hope in the ruins of his own heart. 

Chapter Text

It’s Saturday morning when the message from Nie Huaisang pops up on his screen. Lan Wangji spares a second to wonder how Nie Huaisang got his number before swiping it open.

Nie Huaisang: Greetings! I was hoping you could do me a huge favour?

What?

Nie Huaisang: Have lunch with me today. My treat.

Lan Wangji hesitates, unsure he’s really feeling up to it.

Nie Huaisang: Or tomorrow, if you’re too busy today? It’s important. I really need to talk to you.

Nie Huaisang: Please?

Tired but curious, he types out a reply.

Today is fine. Where and what time?

Nie Huaisang thanks him profusely and sends him the address of a restaurant.

Nie Huaisang: 1:30pm okay?

Lan Wangji types back an affirmative and goes about setting up the rest of his day around this new development.

He arrives at the restaurant five minutes early to find Nie Huaisang already seated. It’s an upscale, western-style establishment with high ceilings and large windows, giving it an open, airy appearance, but the tables are well separated and designed for private conversations. Nie Huaisang is tucked into a corner booth, and he already has a glass of wine started. There’s a bottle of sparkling water sitting chilled and ready at Lan Wangji’s seat, and a server materializes to pour it for him just as he sits down.

“Thank you for meeting me today,” Nie Huaisang says. “I appreciate it. I know you must be busy.”

“Not at all,” Lan Wangji says.

“Ever been here before?” Nie Huaisang asks casually.

Lan Wangji shakes his head.

“I like it here,” Nie Huaisang says. “Good food, good wine selection, discreet staff. I’d recommend the seafood pasta,” he adds.

Lan Wangji raises an eyebrow, wondering just how discreet the staff will have to be for their conversation. His curiosity is fully piqued.

“Tell me,” Nie Huaisang says after they’ve placed their orders. “Did you enjoy the concert last night?”

“I did,” Lan Wangji says. It’s almost a lie, but he had managed to enjoy some of the final act. Nie Huaisang doesn’t need to know about how much inner turmoil the night had stirred up for him.

“Hard not to, really,” Nie Huaisang says. “Listening to a musician like that is a rare experience. One worth savouring, for sure. Of course,” he continues, “it helps to be in good company.”

Lan Wangji averts his eyes. “Indeed.”

“And you were in good company, weren’t you?” Nie Huaisang asks with a pointed look.

Lan Wangji swallows a sip of water and considers his response. If Nie Huaisang is hinting at Wei Wuxian, this is not a conversation that Lan Wangji is prepared to have.

“Someone whose company you might find especially agreeable?” Nie Huaisang prompts, sensing Lan Wangji’s hesitation.

Lan Wangji looks up and fixes Nie Huaisang with a steely glare.

To his surprise, it has no effect.

Nie Huaisang simply holds his gaze, unflinching.

“Someone who’s offering you a chance that seems too good to be true, perhaps?”

Lan Wangji blinks, thoroughly startled. “Jin Guangyao?” he asks, voice surprised.

Nie Huaisang nods slowly.

“I…“ Lan Wangi begins, but he’s not sure how to proceed. “I can’t say I particularly enjoyed his company, no,” he finishes, deciding to be honest and straightforward.

Nie Huaisang raises his eyebrows. “No?” he asks. “You wouldn’t say he’s one of your closer associates these days?”

“Not at all,” Lan Wangji declares. “He has offered me a job, but that has been the extent of our interaction.”

“And do you mean to accept?” Nie Huaisang asks, casual voice not at all a match for his serious expression.

“No,” Lan Wangji replies. “I do not.”

“Promise me that you won’t,” Nie Huaisang says, eyes suddenly fierce.

“I won’t accept,” Lan Wangji insists. “Although I do not see why a promise is necessary?”

“Is your brother in contact with him?” Nie Huaisang suddenly asks, switching gears. “Perhaps you’ve heard that mine is not.”

“I had heard that,” Lan Wangji confirms. “And I do not believe my brother has had any contact with him in the last two years, at least. Possibly more. I was left to assume,” Lan Wangji says pointedly, “that this was done out of respect for Nie Mingjue. Am I mistaken?”

“You are not,” Nie Huaisang sniffs, idly picking a piece of lint off his suit. “They both agreed to cut ties with him. My brother cut him off completely. I wasn’t certain if Lan Xichen had entirely given up on their connection.”

“He’s never said as much,” Lan Wangji offers, uncertain himself as to the status of his brother’s full relationship with Jin Guangyao. “But I know that he does not wish to discuss him, and that mention of him brings my brother pain.”

“Of course it does,” Nie Huaisang says, voice almost coarse. “Your brother has always had something of a bleeding heart.”

Lan Wangji feels a spike of defensiveness. “What is this really about?”

“It’s about justice,” Nie Huaisang says, eyes steely. “Justice that may never find Jin Guangyao, so the least I can do is wish ill upon him. I refuse to see him succeed, if at all possible.”

There is a pause in the conversation as the server drops off their food, and Lan Wangji is given a moment to collect his thoughts. It still doesn’t make sense to him, this sudden ire sparking steel in Nie Huaisang’s habitually warm, carefree eyes.

“Maybe you will recall that our auction house fell on some hard times a few years ago,” Nie Huaisang says as he lays his napkin in his lap.

Lan Wangji nods. “The fire,” he says.

“The fire,” Nie Huaisang repeats. “At the main showroom in Qinghe. We had several sites, of course, but this was the largest, and it housed the greatest amount of priceless heirlooms, jewellery, and a particular collection of ancient weaponry curated by my father before he died.”

Nie Huaisang carefully slices into his fillet, the blood-red inside of the steak leaking scarlet juices onto the plate.

“And perhaps you remember, that after university, Jin Guangyao was not so much in favour with his old man as he is now. That he actually returned to Qinghe with my brother after they graduated together, and Da-ge gave him a job as a curator.” He looks up to meet Lan Wangji’s eyes. “Curator of the main showroom, in fact.”

“Was he…” Lan Wangji begins, suddenly sensing where this is going.

“The curator in charge when the fire hit?” Nie Huaisang finishes for him. “Of course he was,” Nie Huaisang says bitterly.

“You can’t mean to think that he caused it?” Lan Wangji asks.

“That he snuck in during the middle of the night and used an accelerant to set the whole place ablaze?” Nie Huaisang offers. “No, certainly not. Getting his hands dirty is not his style. But I am convinced he had something to do with it.”

“Why?”

“Because of the fallout,” Nie Huaisang explains. “The insurance company of course claimed the arson was self-inflicted and refused to pay the claim. We fought it with everything we had, but in the end, we lost it all. We didn’t see a cent for the goods that were lost, or the building, and our reputation took such a serious hit, we still haven’t fully recovered.”

He pauses as the server arrives to refill their glasses.

“My brother was, unfortunately, a bit of a PR nightmare at that time,” Nie Huaisang continues. “It was all we could do to contain his temper in private let alone in front of the press. We were facing bankruptcy, and so, Jin Guangyao took charge. There was only one way out, he said.”

“The land,” Lan Wangji realises. “You own the land your showrooms are on.”

“Got it in one,” Nie Huaisang toasts him. “Jin Guangyao sold off all our showrooms to Jin Guangshan.” His face twists with grim resignation. “He got them at quite the discount, of course. All we managed to keep was the northernmost site, one of the smaller showrooms in a more obscure location. That’s where we operate from now.”

Lan Wangji leans back in his chair, suitably shocked. “And you are certain this was by design?”

“I’d stake my life on it,” Nie Huaisang swears. “And so would my brother. You can imagine how he reacted. He was livid, but in the end, it was sell the land or lose everything entirely, so he signed all the appropriate papers, and we salvaged what we could of our father’s legacy. Then he nearly beat Jin Guangyao to a pulp. He might have killed him, if your brother hadn’t intervened.”

Lan Wangji dimly remembers his brother coming back to China that summer. It had been the last summer that Lan Wangji had been a teacher, but Lan Xichen hadn’t come to Gusu. He’d gone to Qinghe instead, and he’d never said why.

“Anyway, your brother spirited Jin Guangyao away to Lanling, and then came back to try and talk some sense into my brother, but Da-ge had a fight with him, too. Not physical, of course,” Nie Huaisang assures him quickly. “But it was intense enough that by the end of it, we were all exhausted and in tears. I’ll never forget it. And I don’t think our brothers have been the same with each other ever since.”

“What evidence do you have?” Lan Wangji presses, aghast at what he’s hearing.

“None, unfortunately,” Nie Huaisang sighs. “Nothing that’s yielded anything I can properly use to convict him anyway, and I’ve been trying for years.”

“You’re absolutely certain,” Lan Wangji states. “Aren’t you?”

Nie Huaisang nods. “I really would stake my life on it. And I will do anything, I mean anything, to see him hang for it eventually. But in the meantime, the least I can do is warn an old friend away from him.”

Lan Wangji is still coming to terms with all the information. “I truly do not mean to accept him,” he assures Nie Huaisang. “I especially do not mean to now.”

“Good,” Nie Huaisang says. “Because I can tell you, no matter what silver-tongued thing he’s promised you, he doesn’t give a damn about anyone but himself. Well,” Nie Huaisang allows, “and perhaps his creepy infatuation with your brother counts as a warped version of affection.”

Lan Wangji swallows, remembering the chill of Jin Guangyao’s fingers against his cheek. 

“In fact,” Nie Huaisang continues, “I’m willing to bet his focus on bringing you into his plans is just to guarantee that he can worm his way back into your brother’s life. And trust me,” Nie Huaisang says. “You do not want that to happen.”

“No,” Lan Wangji breathes. “I most certainly do not.”

They sit in silence after that, Nie Huaisang taking a deep sip of his wine. The server comes by to check on them, and Nie Huaisang greets him with a bright, ingratiating smile.

“Everything’s perfect,” he says.

He looks at Lan Wangji over the top of his glass.

“Just perfect.”

---

Sunday passes in a haze of tired emotions. The combination of the concert and his meeting with Nie Huaisang has left Lan Wangji hollowed out and exhausted, and he ends up sleeping long past his usual 5:00am wake up time. The day is slow and plodding, eaten up by chores and his own dour musings. He considers calling his brother and pressing him about Jin Guangyao, but thinks the better of it. He feels they must talk at some point, but he resolves to approach the matter after he has officially turned Jin Guangyao down.

Monday morning arrives crisp and cool, the edges of spring beginning to poke their way past the tenacious Gusu frost. Lan Wangji arrives at the office, early as usual, dropping off his briefcase and heading out to deliver the ritual coffees. He is resolved to act professionally, as if nothing has happened. He will pick up the report and the day will carry on as usual, rote and routine. It can’t be long, he thinks, before this project comes to its conclusion, and Wei Wuxian will depart. Lan Wangji can only wearily hope that he takes this turmoil with him.

Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian are already in the teacher’s lounge when he arrives, although it doesn’t look like they are set up to work yet, the two of them not seated, coats still being peeled off.  

“Good morning,” Wen Qing greets him with a smile.

“Good morning,” he replies, setting the coffees on the table. “I trust you both had a good weekend?”

“I had a delightful weekend, thank you,” Wen Qing says. “How was the concert?”

Wei Wuxian coughs and averts his eyes.

“It was very agreeable,” Lan Wangji offers smoothly, pointedly not looking at Wei Wuxian.

Wen Qing raises an eyebrow at Wei Wuxian, but she doesn’t address him, turning back to Lan Wangji and gracing him with another smile.

“You’re a little early, so I’m afraid the report hasn’t been printed yet, but if you give me a minute, I’ll get it ready for you,” she says.

“Of course,” he says. “It’s no trouble to wait.”

She opens her laptop and brings up the document, sending it to the printer with a click. There’s a familiar hum as the printer comes to life, then a shrieking, whirring noise as it promptly jams itself.

“Well, that’s no help, is it?” Wen Qing says lightly.

“I’ve got it,” Wei Wuxian says, heading toward the printer. “Just add another copy to the queue while I unjam this thing.”

“All right,” she calls, turning back to Lan Wangji with an elegant shrug. “Sorry, but your wait just got a little longer.”

“It’s no trouble,” Lan Wangji repeats.

“Hmm,” Wen Qing hums, tapping the edge of her phone into her palm. “Come here for a second,” she says, beckoning Lan Wangji closer.

He approaches as she swipes her phone open, scrolling through the gallery until she lands on the shot she wants. She presents Lan Wangji with a photo of Wen Ning, smiling sweetly with his arms wrapped around a beaming Luo Qingyang. The two of them are wearing matching sweaters.

“Aren’t they ridiculous?” Wen Qing asks.

Lan Wangji hums in agreement. “They look happy,” he observes.

“They do, don’t they?” Wen Qing scrolls through a few more photos and sighs, looking a little sad.

“Is everything all right?” Lan Wangji asks.

“Oh, everything’s fine,” she sighs again. “I’m just feeling a little melancholy. I can’t help but think of poor A-Qing,” she admits. “She was such a presence, you know? A real light in the dark. And when she was snuffed out, well.” Wen Qing swallows, staring at the picture on the screen.

“It sounds like she was well loved,” Lan Wangji offers tentatively.

“She was,” Wen Qing says. “That’s just it. He loved her so, so much. We all did. Don’t get me wrong, I want A-Ning to be happy, but a part of me can’t help but feel sad for A-Qing. It’s like she’s being forgotten. And I can’t help but think, that if it were the other way around—” she chokes a little and has to steady herself.

“If it were the other way around,” she continues, “then A-Qing would not forget him so easily. She was so doting, so loyal. I can’t imagine it,” she sighs. “What am I even saying? Of course A-Ning is moving on. He has such a soft, affectionate heart. He must love someone.”

Lan Wangji struggles for something to say, feeling his lack of skill with words acutely in this moment.

“I’m being silly,” Wen Qing chides herself. “Maybe men just forget faster,” she quips.

“I disagree,” Lan Wangji finds himself saying, surprising himself.

“Oh?” Wen Qing raises an eyebrow in surprise. “You don’t think so?”

“I think,” he says, “that at the very least, there will be exceptions.”

“Oh, of course,” she says, waving that away as obvious. “I suppose it would be pretty contemptuous of me to just write you all off like that, but I think I could make a general argument that we have better memories overall,” she says. “Especially, perhaps, when it comes to recalling tender feelings.”

“Perhaps our inability to express ourselves helps it to appear so,” Lan Wangji says carefully. “But I would offer that a truly passionate attachment is such that, with the right temperament, anyone might continue to love long past the point of hope.”

Over at the printer, Wei Wuxian drops a load of paper and swears.

“You doing okay over there?” Wen Qing calls.

Wei Wuxian doesn’t reply, he just makes shooing motions at her and keeps frowning at the mess of paper, hands hovering almost aimlessly over the spilled pages.  

Wen Qing turns back to Lan Wangji. “So it’s a matter of temperament, you think?”

“Perhaps,” he says. “It is like you said. Your brother’s affectionate heart must dictate how he loves.”

Wen Qing smiles sadly. “Yes, I think you’re right. You’re a very kind person, you know that?”

“I don’t think so,” Lan Wangji says.

“I feel as if you wouldn’t forget,” Wen Qing says.

“No,” Lan Wangji agrees. “Never.”

Wen Qing holds his gaze, and suddenly Lan Wangji is feeling very tired. He’s never felt hollower, more resigned to his fate than in this moment.

“You sound as if you have something to remember,” Wen Qing murmurs.

Lan Wangji lowers his eyes. “I did. I do.”

“And are you past the point of hope?” she asks softly.

“Long past.” It’s like a bloodletting, the words spilling out of him almost unbidden. “Even if I can’t forget, a feeling that persists so long in the absence of hope can only root itself in sorrow. That is where it must thrive. Love that dies a swifter death is a mercy,” he says.

“How poetic,” Wen Qing says. “I hadn’t pegged you as a romantic.”

“I’m not,” Lan Wangji shakes his head. “Not anymore. It’s too late,” he says. “Too late, for me.”

The sound of the printer roaring to life brings Lan Wangji’s head around to where Wei Wuxian is still frowning, head lowered in concentration over where the freshly printed papers are ejected onto the tray. He gathers them into a tidy stack, keeping the edges even with each other before turning his back to Lan Wangji and fumbling the pages into a folder, scrambling to scribble something and stick a final piece of paper on top before slamming it shut. He spins around and walks across the room to shove the folder unceremoniously at Lan Wangji’s chest.

“Here,” Wei Wuxian says, voice a little hoarse. He’s still frowning, and his eyes are dark and glassy under his furrowed brow.

Lan Wangji accepts the folder and steps away, nodding at Wen Qing as he takes his leave. He heads rapidly back to his office, feeling the need for movement after yet another taxing conversation. He doesn’t know what moved him to say so much. Hasn’t he had enough, he thinks? His reserves are all tapped out.

He enters his office and sits down at his desk, glaring at the folder for a few long minutes before taking a deep breath and getting down to it. He flips open the folder and stares at the front of the report, going absolutely still. There’s a sticky note there, violently yellow, Wei Wuxian’s jagged handwriting scrawled diagonally across the perfect little square:

[Is it really too late?]

There’s a moment so quiet, so still, so perfectly devoid of sensation, and then suddenly, it hits him all at once. There’s a heated flush, a dizzy swoop, and a feeling of vertigo so strong he has to grip the edges of his desk to remain upright. His heart is in his throat again, fluttering like a moth, and he swallows it down, feeling slightly nauseated.

It takes another moment for the room to stop spinning, but when it does, Lan Wangji rises to his feet, walking around his desk and heading straight for the door. He yanks it open, meaning to storm back towards the teacher’s lounge, but Wei Wuxian is on the other side of the door, fist raised as if to knock and eyes wide with surprise.

Lan Wangji doesn’t know how long they stand there, frozen, just staring at each other helplessly before Wei Wuxian pushes past him into the office. He paces back and forth in front of Lan Wangji’s desk until Lan Wangji turns and lets the door click shut behind him. Wei Wuxian rounds on him, wild-eyed and breathless, and Lan Wangji is frozen all over again as Wei Wuxian levels him with a desperate, plaintive stare.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, voice firm. “I can’t do this anymore. I won’t be silent. Lan Zhan, I can’t—God, this is agony, but I just can’t! I have to hope. Tell me I’m not too late! Tell me that twelve years is not too long to want—to hope—“

His voice breaks on the last word, and he stops to take a shuddering breath, fists clenching at his sides.

“Lan Zhan, I know I’ve been an asshole. I know I’ve been angry, and bitter, and resentful, but Lan Zhan, there’s been no mercy for me, no death of love. I’ve never loved anyone but you. It’s always been you. It could only ever be you.”

Lan Wangji remains motionless, face slack with shock, caught in a state of such pure agitation that it’s almost anguish, his heart wrenched open like an old, weeping wound. He can’t speak. He can barely breathe.

“Lan Zhan, you—“ Wei Wuxian takes a step closer, hands unfurling, fingers spread wide, his palms facing upward as if in supplication. “You pierce my soul.”

Lan Wangji breaks.

He doesn’t remember moving, but suddenly, Wei Wuxian is in his arms, and Lan Wangji is shaking, wracked by silent, heaving sobs. Wei Wuxian holds him tighter as Lan Wangji clings to him, pressing his face into the crook of Wei Wuxian’s neck.

“Wei Ying,” he chokes out. “Wei Ying.”

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian breathes into his hair. “I’m here, Lan Zhan. I’m right here.”

Lan Wangji lets the tears come, a relentless onslaught, years of pent up sorrow finally flowing free. It’s an excruciating catharsis, his despair rushing forth in a violent flood that almost threatens to pull him under. But Wei Wuxian is there, an anchor in the storm, and Lan Wangji gives himself up to the current, trusting in Wei Wuxian to hold him.

Slowly, the shaking subsides, the tears cease to flow, and Wei Wuxian pulls back just far enough to rest their foreheads together.

“Oh, Lan Zhan,” he soothes. “My Lan Zhan. You still feel things so deeply.”

Lan Wangji draws in a long, shuddering breath, and then exhales it just as unsteadily. “Wei Ying,” he says again, less choked, but still waterlogged.

“Hmm?” Wei Wuxian hums, raising his hand to brush his thumb against Lan Wangji’s cheek.

“You love me,” Lan Wangji whispers.

“Yes.”

“You love me.”

“Always,” Wei Wuxian vows.

Lan Wangji screws his eyes shut against fresh tears. “Then,” he breathes, “It is not too late.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Wei Wuxian says, and Lan Wangji can hear the soft smile in his voice. “Lan Zhan, look at me,” he says.

Lan Wangji opens his eyes, locking onto Wei Wuxian’s wet, limpid stare.

“Can I kiss you?” Wei Wuxian whispers.

Lan Wangji nods, the barest tilt of his head, and then Wei Wuxian is cradling his face, and Lan Wangji’s eyes flutter shut as Wei Wuxian guides their lips together. It’s soft, but insistent, Wei Wuxian’s mouth working to coax Lan Wangji open, pull him closer, invite him deeper, and Lan Wangji goes gratefully, desperately, sinking into the hot pull of Wei Wuxian’s mouth, soothed by the caress of his lips. He gives himself over to the heat unfurling at every point of contact, flooded by warmth as his despair drains away like water through the sieve of his battered heart.

Lan Wangji pulls Wei Wuxian closer, arms tightening around Wei Wuxian’s waist. He pours twelve years of longing into the kiss. Twelve years of regret, of loneliness. Half a lifetime spent with all five of his senses blunted by melancholy. The love that subsisted on sorrow now blossoms like blood over freshly fallen snow, sinking into the crevices of his heart, dyeing the corners scarlet.  

Wei Wuxain slides his hands up to tangle in Lan Wangji’s hair, deepening the kiss, accepting everything, open and willing under Lan Wangji’s mouth. He tugs insistently, angling Lan Wangji’s head for better access as their tongues stroke together. Lan Wangji inadvertently makes a small, broken sound in the back of his throat as Wei Wuxian pushes impossibly closer, arms circling around Lan Wangji’s neck.

When Wei Wuxian finally breaks the kiss, he does not pull back, keeping their bodies crushed together. He presses a rough kiss to Lan Wangji’s temple, drags his lips over the shell of Lan Wangji’s ear, then presses their cheeks together, rocking back and forth slowly. Lan Wangji sways with him, eventually letting his head fall forward to bury into Wei Wuxian’s shoulder.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian murmurs. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”

Lan Wangji lifts his head and draws back enough to look at Wei Wuxian’s remorseful face. He regards Wei Wuxian with some confusion, feeling a bit distressed. “I should be asking you that,” he says.

Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “I was so angry, so resentful, and I’ve judged you so unfairly. As if you weren’t hurting just as much as I was back then.”

Lan Wangji feels a wave of crushing guilt and shame wash over him. “I abandoned you,” he chokes out. “I was weak. I didn’t fight for us. For you.”

“Oh, Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian’s face collapses with regret. “We were just kids. What could you have done? I was heartbroken, sure, but you must have been so scared. They just shipped you off, all alone, and I never even—I never even tried! I could have written you, I could have called—Hell, I could have visited! I pushed you away when you needed to be held close. I told you to get lost! You must have been so lonely.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji breathes. He can feel himself tearing up again. He had been lonely. Even with his brother there, he’d never felt more alone. “But I hurt you,” he insists. “I gave up. I gave you up.”

“For the sake of keeping your family, you mean,” Wei Wuxian says, voice low and wet. “You had no real choice, did you? I know your uncle threatened to disown you.”

“How?” Lan Wangji gasps. “How do you know that?”

“Nie Huaisang told me at the concert,” Wei Wuxian says. “Your brother told Nie Mingjue, and Nie Huaisang wheedled it out of him. What kind of a choice is that? It’s no choice at all! Oh, love, how could he do that to you?” His voice breaks on the question.

“If only I’d known sooner,” he adds bitterly, “then I wouldn’t have spent so much time blaming you, resenting you. I wanted to believe you were cold and unfeeling. When I was angry enough, it was easy to believe it. I wanted to forget you. As if I ever could.”

“Wei Ying…” It’s all he can manage, his world awash in tears again.

“I’ve been driven by spite for so many years,” Wei Wuxian says, eyes wide and sad. “I thought if I could just become a huge success, then I’d be beyond reproach, and I could come home and feel victorious at last. That I could crush anyone who’d ever looked down on me. That I could bury my heart and crush you, too.”

Wei Wuxian pauses to wipe the new tears off of Lan Wangji’s face, thumbs sweeping tenderly across the skin underneath Lan Wangji’s eyes.

“But it only made the ache deeper,” Wei Wuxian laments. “Everything I’ve done since I’ve been back has been driven by resentment and my stupid, angry pride.  Even with Mian Mian, it was such a careless distraction, when all I really wanted was you. I should have thrown myself at your feet the minute I saw you, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I was too proud to ask again.”

Lan Wangji shakes his head, sorrowful and abashed. “Of course you couldn’t. You said… You thought I was dull, and washed up, and you were right.”

Wei Wuxian’s face crumples in remorse. “You heard that?” he asks, voice pained. “Oh Lan Zhan, I’m so sorry. It wasn’t true. It was never true. If I hadn’t been blinded by old resentment, I would have seen it was nothing like that at all. You were just sad. So terribly, terribly sad.” He places a featherlight kiss on Lan Wangji’s cheek. “And I just seemed to make you sadder.”

Lan Wangji closes his eyes again, stroking his shaking hands up and down Wei Wuxian’s back, coming to rest on his hips. “You didn’t. You don’t,” Lan Wangji says. “I am always sad.”

“Oh, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says again. “My dearest Lan Zhan. I hate that you’re so sad. It’s like you disappeared inside of it. My beautiful, shining Lan Zhan.” He holds Lan Wangji’s face and kisses his lips again, just a moment of pressure before he draws back to survey the wreckage of Lan Wangji’s expression. “You’re still there, though. I see you,” he whispers. “And I want you.”

Lan Wangji can feel another tear make its way silently down his face. He wonders if he will ever dry up again.

“I want you,” Wei Wuxian repeats, resting their foreheads together. “This past month, ever since the gala, it’s been torture. You were so magnificent, but whenever I came near you, it was like the light went out, and then Jin Guangyao had all your attention, and I thought for sure I was going to lose you all over again, before I even had you back.”

“Jin Guangyao?” Lan Wangji pulls back, startled. “But how?”

“The cultural centre,” Wei Wuxian explains, eyes sad. “I thought for sure you’d want to go. It was too perfect for you. I thought that maybe this time, you’d take the chance. That you’d leave everything for him that you couldn’t leave for me.”

“No!” Lan Wangji exclaims. “I would never. I couldn’t. Not for him. Never for him.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes go impossibly soft. “You really never considered it?”

Lan Wangji shakes his head. “Never seriously. My feelings wouldn’t allow it. And as for Jin Guangyao, the fact that it was him that was asking made it even more impossible to accept.” He remembers Nie Huaisang and all that he’d disclosed.

But thinking of Jin Guangyao triggers another painful memory, and Lan Wangji is struck by the need to confirm something.

“Wei Ying,” he starts.

“Hmm?”

“At the concert. During intermission. Were you…”

Wei Wuxian blinks at him, and then he lets out a rueful laugh. “Lan Zhan, I was so jealous, I thought I was going to be sick.”

Lan Wangji is flooded with warm relief, his distress at Wei Wuxian’s outburst that night dissolving like the last frost of winter meeting spring.

“You needn’t have been,” he assures Wei Wuxian.

“No?”

“No. I promise you, no. You’re still the only thing I’ve ever truly wanted,” he says, voice earnest. “You’re still everything, Wei Ying.”

“Lan Zhan…” It’s Wei Wuxian’s turn to tear up.

“My heart is yours,” Lan Wangji presses on, open and raw. “It’s yours, even more now than it was twelve years ago.” He lets his hands come up to cradle Wei Wuxian’s face. “If you still want it, then please. Take it back.”

Wei Wuxian flushes, and his eyes spill over.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian breathes out. “You can’t just say things like that. My poor heart might give out.” He lets his hands circle each of Lan Wangji’s wrists.

“We don’t want that,” Lan Wangji says, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the edge of his lips.

“No, we don’t,” Wei Wuxian smiles. “Not now. Not when it has the rest of my life to love you.”

“Wei Ying.”

“Kiss me, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji does.

Chapter Text

It takes the better part of an hour to fully extract himself from Wei Wuxian’s embrace, the two of them deeply ensnared by the sweet torment of reminiscence and rediscovery. Hushed words and soft touches are punctuated by more passionate interludes until the fifth phonecall on Wei Wuxian’s cell phone can no longer be ignored.

Wei Wuxian wrenches his lips away from another heated, desperate kiss to growl at his phone, and Lan Wangji reels at the loss of contact, steadying himself by gripping Wei Wuxian firmly by the hips. Wei Wuxian fumbles with his phone, one arm still looped around Lan Wangji’s neck.

“God damn it,” he grimaces, as the call goes to voicemail. “I really have to call this one back.”

“Of course,” Lan Wangji says, voice a little rough.

Wei Wuxian slips his phone into his back pocket and surveys Lan Wangji’s face, eyes roving, before he surges forward to kiss him deeply, pressing their bodies together so tightly that Lan Wangji can no longer tell their heartbeats apart.

“Fuck,” Wei Wuxian exclaims, pulling back flushed, his chest heaving. “Just. Fuck.” He rakes his hands through Lan Wangji’s hair, sending a delicious shiver up Lan Wangji’s spine. “I just want you to wreck me,” he declares.

The words spark something old and molten in the pit of Lan Wangji’s gut, and he can feel his ears getting hot as a flush travels up his neck. He flexes his fingers on Wei Wuxian’s hips, and Wei Wuxian lets out a frustrated little groan before pushing off of his chest.

“Right,” Wei Wuxian says, face flushed and eyes dark. His lips are red and bruised from so much kissing. “Back to work,” he sighs.

Lan Wangji swallows, nodding reluctantly.

“I should also…” he waves vaguely at his desk.

“Right,” Wei Wuxian says again. “Very important work to do. Lots of it.”

Lan Wangji just watches him helplessly.

“Come see me tonight,” Wei Wuxian says abruptly. “I’ll send you the address.”

“All right,” Lan Wangji says, suddenly breathless.

“Good,” Wei Wuxian nods, firm and decisive, then his eyes melt a little as he smiles. “I’d better go now,” he says softly.

“Yes,” Lan Wangji says, every fiber of his being wishing that Wei Wuxian could stay.

“Have a really good day, Lan Zhan.”

“You as well, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian slips out of Lan Wangji’s office, leaving Lan Wangji in a whirlwind of emotions. He sinks back to sit on the edge of his desk, eyes on the floor, willing his racing heart to slow down. He can scarcely believe what’s happened. Less than two hours ago, he’d been completely resigned to a lonesome fate, and now, he has the whole world cradled in his arms again.

He can feel himself welling up again, joy and sorrow co-mingling into an overwhelming cocktail, and he marvels at his own sudden capacity for tears. He hasn’t cried properly since his mother died, and now, he can’t seem to stop.

He chides himself back under control and attempts to distract himself with work, but it’s mostly futile. He’s riding a rollercoaster of elation and disbelief, euphoria and trepidation. Thinking forward to tonight only makes his stomach swoop and lurch, giddy with anticipation and dread.

But in the end, a newborn spark of hope wins out, and Lan Wangji leans into it, feeding it the last of his strength and setting his sights on the end of the day.

It’s going to be a long one.

---

It’s 6:00pm when Lan Wangji receives the message with Wei Wuxian’s address, and it’s half an hour later when he shows up at Wei Wuxian’s apartment complex, a network of buildings known for short-term, furnished living accommodations. He types in the passcode he’s been given and endures a seemingly endless ride up in the elevator, his mind racing. He’s painfully aware of what he’s here for, but he’s nervous and distracted by inane questions, like will they have dinner first? Are they going to talk?

He gets his answer as soon as Wei Wuxian opens the door and hauls him inside by his shirt collar, and Lan Wangji feels his back hit the door as Wei Wuxian crashes into him, crushing their lips together in a frantic, searing kiss. His arms fly up to wrap around Wei Wuxian’s waist as Wei Wuxian presses even closer, angling his head and licking up into Lan Wangji’s mouth. Lan Wangji cannot stop the small moan that escapes him in response.

Wei Wuxian is already tugging at Lan Wangji’s coat, trying to yank it off his shoulders, but Lan Wangji is holding on to Wei Wuxian too tightly, and the fabric gets stuck at his elbows. He awkwardly drops his arms as Wei Wuxian shoves the coat the rest of the way off, letting it fall around their feet, breaking the kiss to nip a line down Lan Wangji’s neck.

“You’re always so well dressed,” Wei Wuxian says, yanking at his suit jacket, and Lan Wangji is not sure if that’s a compliment or a complaint.

“I—“ his breath stutters as Wei Wuxian mouths at his jaw and his jacket joins his coat on the ground. He’s reeling, hot and dizzy and not sure where to put his hands as Wei Wuxian turns his focus to the buttons on Lan Wangji’s shirt.

“Wei Ying,” he manages, breathy and needy, not sure what he’s pleading for.

“Hmm?” Wei Wuxian hums against his jaw before finding his lips again, sealing their mouths together as his nimble fingers deftly unpop one button after another.

“We should—“ he breathes against Wei Wuxian’s lips in the gap between kisses. “We should—“

“What?” Wei Wuxian purrs, having worked Lan Wangji’s shirt most of the way open.

“Talk,” Lan Wangji blurts out.

Wei Wuxian freezes, hands going still on the final button. He pulls back to look at Lan Wangji, eyes huge and worried.

“Talk?” he asks, his voice a little high pitched.

Lan Wangji takes a deep, shaky breath, and he stares helplessly at Wei Wuxian, suddenly bereft of anything to actually say.

“Lan Zhan, are you okay?” Wei Wuxian asks, eyes going soft.

“Yes, I…” he trails off again. He doesn’t know where to begin. They haven’t discussed this, obviously, and Lan Wangji is struck dumb by the bitter realisation that he has no idea what he’s doing.

“What is it, love?” Wei Wuxian’s voice is soothing. “What do you need?”

“I don’t know,” Lan Wangji confesses, feeling lost.  

“Do we need to stop?” Wei Wuxian asks, looking a little pained. “I mean, I’ve waited twelve years already. What’s another few minutes?” he says, tone playful.

Lan Wangji winces at that, and Wei Wuxian is immediately contrite.

“I didn’t mean that,” he whispers, hands coming up to cradle Lan Wangji’s face. “Lan Zhan, are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji breathes out, hoarse and full of yearning. He wants this so badly he thinks he might suffocate under the weight of his own desire.

“Okay,” Wei Wuxian says, voice low and soft as he crowds forward again. He kisses Lan Wangji gently, reverently, before pulling back just an inch.

“Tell me what you like,” Wei Wuxian whispers, ghosting a kiss over Lan Wangji’s cheek. “Let me make you feel good.”

“I—” Lan Wangji stutters, shame twisting sharply in his gut. “I’ve never done this before,” he gets out.

Wei Wuxian pulls back to look at him again, eyes surprised and concerned. “Never?”

Lan Wangji shakes his head, feeling exposed and helpless. No one’s ever touched him. He’s rarely even touched himself.

“Oh, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, eyes full of love and compassion. “There’s nothing wrong with that. You know that, right?”

“I don’t even know what I want,” Lan Wangji confesses, feeling lost again. He’s a mess of wanting, but he’s afraid to untangle it. He’s holding closed the floodgates, terrified at what lies on the other side of them.   

“It’s okay,” Wei Wuxian soothes, running his fingers through Lan Wangji’s hair, massaging his scalp lightly. “Just tell me you’re absolutely sure you want to do this, and I’ll take it from there.”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji says, voice desperate. “I want this.” He fixes Wei Wuxian with a hungry stare. “I want you, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes go dark and determined at that, and he takes Lan Wangji’s hand and leads him away from his crumpled clothes and into the bedroom. He drops Lan Wangji’s hand to go turn on one of the bedside lamps, then turns back to beckon Lan Wangji toward him. Lan Wangji meets him beside the bed, and Wei Wuxian steps into the circle of Lan Wangji’s arms, kissing him soundly, his hands slipping upward to tangle in Lan Wangji’s hair. He breaks the kiss to mouth up the side of Lan Wangji’s jaw.

“Shall I tell you what I want, then?” Wei Wuxian whispers into the shell of his ear. “Shall I tell you what I can’t stop thinking about?”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji shivers, hands roving over Wei Wuxian’s back, sliding up to grip at the back of Wei Wuxian’s neck.

“I want your talented hands all over me,” Wei Wuxian purrs. “I want your mouth on me, marking me up.” He slides a hand into Lan Wangji’s open shirt, skating low over his abdomen and coming to rest on the buckle of his belt. “I want to suck you off with your hands in my hair.”

He ducks his head to lick a stripe up Lan Wangji’s neck before whispering in his ear again.

“And then I want you to fuck me.”

Lan Wangji lets out a shuddering breath, his whole body trembling with arousal.

“Would you like that, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian sucks his earlobe into his mouth. “I’ve never let anyone fuck me before. Do you want to fuck me, Lan Zhan?”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji gasps, desire rocketing through him, a surge of heat going straight to his cock.

The hand on his belt buckle drifts down to cup him through his pants, and Lan Wangji groans, half strangled, his hands fisting in the back of Wei Wuxian’s shirt.

Wei Wuxian finally flicks open that last button on Lan Wangji’s shirt and pushes it off his shoulders before taking a step back and removing his own shirt in one swift motion. He steps back into Lan Wangji’s arms, and the two of them hold each other for a moment. Lan Wangji lets his eyes rove over Wei Wuxian’s bare chest, his hands tentatively following the trail of his gaze, and Wei Wuxian’s eyes flutter as he trembles a little under the caress.

Lan Wangji is so intent on studying Wei Wuxian, on the feel of his silky skin under his palms, that he doesn’t realise Wei Wuxian is equally intent on the thin ridge of scar tissue cutting across his heart, and he immediately freezes, body going numb and eyes going distant when Wei Wuxian purposefully strokes his fingertips across it.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian whispers. The hand not hovering over Lan Wangji’s heart comes up to cup his face, and Lan Wangji startles.

“Hey,” Wei Wuxian coaxes. “Where did you just go?”

Lan Wangji just stares at him, eyes raw, feeling the cold rush of shame overtake him.

“Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian tries again. “Come back to me.”

Lan Wangji struggles with himself, battling against the self-loathing that’s rising in his throat. 

“Wei Ying,” he finally gets out. It sounds like a plea.

“I’m right here, Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian strokes his thumb over Lan Wangji’s cheek. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”

Lan Wangji closes his eyes and shudders as Wei Wuxian presses his palm flat against the scar. Wei Wuxian steps a little closer, nuzzling Lan Wangji’s face until Lan Wangji’s eyes flutter back open.

“You don’t have to hide from me, either,” Wei Wuxian murmurs, voice low and throaty. “Please don’t hide from me.”

Lan Wangji swallows hard, feeling the heat begin to creep back into his body, willing his heart to unclench. He lays shaking fingers over the hand Wei Wuxian has pressed to his chest and locks their eyes together. Wei Wuxian stares back at him, eyes wide, trusting and accepting.  Tentatively, Lan Wangji leans forward and kisses him. He wants this, he tells himself as Wei Wuxian sighs into his mouth. He wants Wei Wuxian to know him, to see him, no matter how painful it is.

A little hesitantly, he allows himself to explore the planes of Wei Wuxian’s bare back, stroking him up and down before pulling him a little closer. He breaks the kiss and latches his mouth onto Wei Wuxian’s neck, suckling at the skin there, and Wei Wuxian breathes out his approval.

“More,” he urges.

Lan Wangji moves down an inch and nips at him, earning a happy hum in response, and Lan Wangji is encouraged. He moves farther down to the junction of Wei Wuxian neck and shoulder, biting a little harder.

“More,” Wei Wuxian gasps, and Lan Wangji sinks his teeth in, hard.

Wei Wuxian’s head falls back with a loud moan and his knees almost buckle. Lan Wangji starts to pull back, worried that perhaps he’s been too harsh, but Wei Wuxian’s hand flies to the back of Lan Wangji’s head to keep him in place. He presses their bodies more firmly together and arches his neck to give Lan Wangji more access.

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian breathes out. “Mark me up, just like that.”

Lan Wangji feels a possessive thrill run through him at the words, and he resumes his assault, biting and sucking progressively harder as he makes his way back up Wei Wuxian’s neck. Wei Wuxian moans again in response, arching into Lan Wangji with his whole body. He presses one hand to the small of Lan Wangji’s back, then reaches down to grab Lan Wangji’s ass with the other. He pulls Lan Wangji forward at the same time he thrusts his own hips, catching Lan Wangji’s arousal against his own.

Lan Wangji snaps his head back with a hiss, and Wei Wuxian takes the opportunity to mouth at his throat.

“Do you like that?” Wei Wuxian breathes against his neck, then nips at the skin there.

Lan Wangji groans in response, ducking his head to claim Wei Wuxian’s lips again, kissing him hard this time, wanting it to bruise. Wei Wuxian moans and accepts the onslaught greedily before abruptly pulling back, stepping away and yanking out the elastic in his hair. Lan Wangji watches him with hungry eyes, his mouth going dry as Wei Wuxian suddenly drops to his knees in front of him, hands going immediately to Lan Wangji’s belt.

Lan Wangji feels his heart pounding, a roar in his ears as Wei Wuxian deftly unfastens the belt and undoes his pants, pushing down his underwear to free his erection. Wei Wuxian runs his hands up and down Lan Wangji’s thighs and licks his lips, glancing up to meet Lan Wangji’s strained gaze, eyes shining in question. Lan Wangji can only nod, breath caught in his throat, and then Wei Wuxian takes him into his mouth.

Lan Wangji can’t help the groan that escapes him, hands flying to the back of Wei Wuxian’s head, instinctively fisting in his hair. Wei Wuxian hums approvingly around his cock, and Lan Wangji shudders, fists tightening. Wei Wuxian releases him briefly to glance up again.

“Yes,” he says encouragingly. “More of that. Pull if you want to.”

And with that, Wei Wuxian licks a stripe along his cock from base to tip before taking him into his mouth again, cheeks hollowing out as he sucks, tongue swirling, head bobbing up and down his length. Lan Wangji bites his lip, fighting back another groan as Wei Wuxian’s hands come up to fondle him before snaking around behind him to squeeze his ass.

Lan Wangji gives himself over into the velvet heat of Wei Wuxian’s mouth, pulling as hard as he dares on Wei Wuxian’s hair. He’s exposed and vulnerable in a way he’s never felt before, completely at the mercy of this man on his knees before him. He can feel himself unspooling, coming undone, and he tugs a little harder in warning.

“Wei Ying,” he gets out, voice thick and hoarse.

Wei Wuxian comes off of him with a pop, giving the base of Lan Wangji’s cock one more firm squeeze with his hand. He pushes Lan Wangji’s pants the rest of the way down, and Lan Wangji steps shakily out of them. He sheds his socks as Wei Wuxian makes quick work of the rest of his own clothes before climbing onto the bed. He extends his arms toward Lan Wangji in invitation, and Lan Wangji joins him on the bed, legs just a touch unsteady.

Wei Wuxian lies back and pulls Lan Wangji on top of him, drawing him into a kiss as he rakes his nails up Lan Wangji’s back. He parts his lips and invites Lan Wangji to go deeper, as deep as he can, and Lan Wangji goes willingly, stroking into Wei Wuxian’s mouth with his tongue. Wei Wuxian whimpers and slides his hands into Lan Wangji’s hair, urging him forward, impossibly closer. He hooks his leg over Lan Wangji’s hip and thrusts upward, seeking friction, and Lan Wangji finds himself moaning into Wei Wuxian’s mouth as they rut together.

He bites at Wei Wuxian’s bottom lip, thrilling at how Wei Wuxian’s whole body seems to shudder in response. He drags his hands roughly up Wei Wuxian’s sides and begins to work his way down Wei Wuxian’s body with his mouth, spurred on by Wei Wuxian’s encouragement.

“Yes, please, put your mouth all over me. Mark me everywhere.”

Lan Wangji finds a nipple and latches on, swirling his tongue over the soft bud until it peaks and hardens. Wei Wuxian writhes beneath him, gasping out more encouragement, urging Lan Wangji to turn his attention to the other side with the hand tangled in Lan Wangji’s hair.

“Yes, Lan Zhan, yes,” he pants. “God, you’re so good, your mouth is so good, touch me everywhere, please…”

Lan Wangji splays his hand across Wei Wuxian’s abdomen and fastens his mouth onto Wei Wuxian’s other nipple, working it over with his tongue and scraping it experimentally with his teeth. Wei Wuxian groans and tightens his hand in Lan Wangji’s hair. With his other hand, he reaches down and tangles their fingers together, leading their joined hands toward his own cock.

“Here,” he rasps, wrapping them both around his erection and giving a small squeeze. “Do me like this,” he says, stroking slowly, then he disentangles their fingers to leave Lan Wangji’s hand alone on his cock.

Lan Wangji strokes him gently, licking his lips as he watches Wei Wuxian’s length slip in and out of his hand. He gives an experimental twist to his wrist, and Wei Wuxian arches underneath him with a cry, voice stuttering a little.

“Lan Zhan, please,” Wei Wuxian pleads, fisting his hand in Lan Wangji’s hair again and tugging up insistently. “Come back here, you have to kiss me now, please,” he whines.

Lan Wangji complies, ravishing Wei Wuxian’s mouth with his tongue while his hand works steadily, stroking him firmly, greedily swallowing down Wei Wuxian’s needy, punched out noises. His hand is getting damp from where Wei Wuxian is leaking over into his palm, and it slicks the way for smoother strokes. He’s getting lost in the rhythm, drowning in the heat of Wei Wuxian’s mouth when Wei Wuxian reaches down to push his hand away.

Lan Wangji draws back, immediately nervous, but Wei Wuxian’s eyes are warm and smiling as he sits up, kissing Lan Wangji lightly on the cheek before reaching into a bag on the nightstand. He comes out with a bottle of lube and a condom, and Lan Wangji can feel his face heating up as his cock twitches.

“Come here,” Wei Wuxian says, drawing Lan Wangji toward the top of the bed and guiding him to lie down, torso propped up by the wealth of pillows against the headboard.

He straddles Lan Wangji’s lap and kisses him deeply before popping the bottle open and slicking up his own fingers. Maintaining eye contact, Wei Wuxian reaches down and behind and begins to finger himself, eyelids fluttering slightly and breath starting to catch. Lan Wangji watches him, jaw going slack, feeling his heartbeat quicken to hammer against his ribcage. Wei Wuxian bites his lower lip as he continues to work himself open, and Lan Wangji is aching to touch him. He needs something to anchor himself to this moment, lest it dissolve around him like a fever dream.

“Wei Ying,” he breathes, reaching up to brush Wei Wuxian’s hair away from his face, fingers coming back to stroke his cheek.

Wei Wuxian hums and turns into the caress, kissing Lan Wangji’s palm before sucking Lan Wangji’s first two fingers into his mouth. Lan Wangji gasps as Wei Wuxian hollows his cheeks out and sucks, laving his fingers with his tongue the same way he had Lan Wangji’s cock. He holds Lan Wangji’s gaze while he lets his fingers slip to the edge of his lips before sucking them back into his mouth, and he repeats the motion as he continues to prep himself. His eyelids flutter shut and he moans around Lan Wangji’s hand with a particularly pointed thrust of his own fingers.  

Lan Wangji can feel himself leaking onto his own stomach, and he’s breathing hard, anticipation coiling tightly in his gut, eyes locked with Wei Wuxian. Finally, Wei Wuxian releases Lan Wangji’s fingers and brings his hands back around, quickly finding the condom and tearing the package open before grasping Lan Wangji and unrolling the latex over his length. Lan Wangji holds his breath, heart fluttering up into his throat as Wei Wuxian slicks him up with lube. He then positions himself and slowly, slowly lowers himself down onto Lan Wangji’s cock.

Lan Wangji gasps out a breath as Wei Wuxian settles above him, body taught and bowed over so that he’s bracing himself on Lan Wangji’s chest. It’s almost unbearable, this tight, hot sheath, and Lan Wangji is desperate for some movement, but he’s terrified of hurting Wei Wuxian, so he holds himself perfectly still, allowing Wei Wuxian to adjust. Wei Wuxian takes a few shuddering breaths and starts to move, whimpering a little as Lan Wangji slips out an inch and then slides back in again.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji grits out. He runs his hands up and down Wei Wuxian’s arms. “Wei Ying, does it hurt?”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut.

“Feels good,” he manages to gasp. “You feel so good, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji lets out a shaky breath as Wei Wuxian starts to move in earnest, rocking back and forth until he’s riding Lan Wangji in a slick, steady rhythm, his body unbowing as he pushes off against Lan Wangji’s chest. Lan Wangji reels at the sight of him, at the sensation of being taken in by Wei Wuxian’s body. He grips Wei Wuxian’s hips and grits his teeth, body rigid with the effort of holding still.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian rasps. “Lan Zhan, move.”

Lan Wangji thrusts his hips up, sharp and sudden, and Wei Wuxian lets out a hoarse cry above him before they both slam back down.

“Are you all right?” Lan Wangji asks, slightly panicked and barely coherent.

“Yes, please, Lan Zhan, do that again—“

Lan Wangji begins to thrust again, hesitant at first, then steady, setting a moderate pace as Wei Wuxian throws his head back and continues to ride him, the long line of his throat fully exposed. Lan Wangji wants to hold him, to run his teeth up that pale column of flesh, and he surges upward, catching Wei Wuxian as he starts to topple backward and sealing his mouth to the base of Wei Wuxian’s throat.

Wei Wuxian groans at the shift in position, wrapping his arms around Lan Wangji’s neck and seating himself deeper. Lan Wangji continues to thrust, biting down on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder hard enough to make Wei Wuxian cry out.

“Yes, fuck, more of that!”

Lan Wangji is ravenous, almost overstimulated and dizzy with desire as he attacks Wei Wuxian’s collarbones with his teeth and his tongue. His hips snap up almost harshly, and he instinctively pulls Wei Wuxian down roughly onto his cock, Wei Wuxian’s body taking him deeper than ever before.  Wei Wuxian cries out wildly, filth and nonsense falling from his lips as he bounces in Lan Wangji’s lap.

“Lan Zhan, God—Lan Zhan, fuck, you’re so good, I’m so full—fuck, fuck me harder, please, please—” 

Every nerve in Lan Wangji’s body is on fire, the dam about to break, and he scrabbles frantically for some shred of self-control even as Wei Wuxian begs him to lose it.

“Harder, Lan Zhan—fuck, please! Fuck me, just, ah—Lan Zhan!”

It’s the sound of his name in that broken, ruined voice that spurs him on, the floodgates collapsing as he dumps Wei Wuxian onto his back, hitching Wei Wuxian’s legs up to pound into him relentlessly. He’s completely undone, movements savage, and Wei Wuxian’s arms fall to his sides as his body jerks like a ragdoll, arching up off the bed as he cries out almost piteously, voice wrecked, skin slicked with sweat.

Lan Wangji’s fearsome pace becomes erratic as he gets closer to finishing, and Wei Wuxian reaches down between them to jerk himself off. It only takes a few strokes before he’s coming all over his own stomach, and his body clenches so that he’s soon sending Lan Wangji over the edge as well. Lan Wangji seizes up and spills over, hips stuttering as his body is wracked by the orgasm, pleasure ripping through him like an electric shock, and he collapses on top of where Wei Wuxian is lying boneless beneath him.

It takes an eternity to come back to himself, and Lan Wangji realises that he’s shaking, the aftershocks of their coupling leaving him teary-eyed and almost desolate. He registers dimly that Wei Wuxian has gathered him up into his arms and is whispering softly into his hair.

“Lan Zhan. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Lan Wangji swallows thickly and raises his head, meeting Wei Wuxian’s warm, damp eyes.

“Hey,” Wei Wuxian says, brushing some moisture out of the corner of Lan Wangji’s eye with his thumb. “There you are, my love. How are you doing?”

Lan Wangji swallows again, trying to find his voice.

“Fine,” he croaks out. “I’m fine.”

Wei Wuxian smiles wetly at him. “Just fine?”

“Good,” Lan Wangji amends. “I’m good.”

“Yes, you are,” Wei Wuxian chuckles, and Lan Wangji feels his whole body flush.

Lan Wangji slips out, and Wei Wuxian shifts and winces a little. Lan Wangji immediately moves to get off of him, but Wei Wuxian tightens his hold around Lan Wangji’s shoulders and keeps him close.

“No, don’t go anywhere yet,” he insists. “Come here,” he says, urging Lan Wangji up his body until he can kiss him, long and languid, their mouths sliding together lazily.

Wei Wuxian coaxes him open again, his pulse evening out into a slow, languorous rhythm, and Lan Wangji feels like he’s melting, all the tension draining out of him as he blankets Wei Wuxian with his body and just allows himself to be kissed, and held, and cared for. He draws back eventually, propping himself up on his elbows and kissing both of Wei Wuxian’s cheeks.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, a little worried.

“No,” Wei Wuxian chuckles again. “Leastways not in any way I didn’t thoroughly enjoy. You were amazing. And I wanted every inch of you.”

“You really never let anyone else do that?” Lan Wangji asks.

“No,” Wei Wuxian says softly. “So it was a first for me, too.”

“Wei Ying,” he shivers, closing his eyes and feeling a wave of desperate, exhausted gratitude wash over him. Is he really allowed to have this?

“Oh, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian whispers, reaching up to cradle his face. “My Lan Zhan. No one ever touches you, do they?”

Lan Wangji shakes his head, feeling choked up. “I don’t want them to,” he says. “I only want you.”

“I know, love. I know,” Wei Wuxian croons, stroking his hands through Lan Wangji’s hair. “But it’s been so long. I never wanted you to be lonely.”

“Were you lonely?” Lan Wangji suddenly wants to know, even though the answer might make him sick with jealousy.

Wei Wuxian thinks for a while before answering, eyes hooded.

“I think I was,” he says. “People touched me, but I was still lonely. I couldn’t stop comparing everyone I met to you,” he admits. “And I never found your equal.”

“Wei Ying…”

“I’m here now, Lan Zhan. We’re here now.” He runs the back of his knuckles along Lan Wangji’s cheek, and Lan Wangji turns his face to kiss them, only shaking a little.

“I’m going to touch you all the time,” Wei Wuxian promises. “Everyday.”

“Everyday,” Lan Wangji swears.

Wei Wuxian smiles at him, eyes crinkling up beautifully at the corners.

“Hey, Lan Zhan, are you hungry?”

Lan Wangji isn’t feeling particularly hungry, but he knows he should eat something, and he suspects Wei Wuxian is starving, as per usual, so he nods.

“Let’s get delivery,” Wei Wuxian says eagerly. “We need to fuel up for round two.”

Lan Wangji flushes in surprise, and Wei Wuxian laughs at his expression.

“If you’re feeling up to it, that is.”

Lan Wangji softens at the sound of that laugh, at the sight of Wei Wuxian’s affectionate, smiling eyes.

“Mn,” he says.

He hopes he will be up to the challenge.

Chapter Text

After dinner, round two gives way to round three, and when round four finally concludes, they are blissfully exhausted, and the two of them collapse, spent and sated into the ruined mess of sheets. It’s all they can manage to clean each other up a bit before crawling into each other’s arms and falling asleep.

5:00am comes too early, and Lan Wangji slowly comes awake, his body conditioned to rise before dawn. He blinks into the dimness of the room, and it takes a moment of confusion to remember where he is, Wei Wuxian’s warm weight against his chest bringing him back to awareness with a rush of heat that has his whole body flushing.

He shifts a little, peering down at what he can see of Wei Wuxian’s face where Wei Wuxian’s head is tucked neatly underneath his chin. He can just make out the tip of his nose, the curve of his lips, and he can feel the soft caress of Wei Wuxian’s breath across his collarbones. He lifts the hand that’s been resting on Wei Wuxian’s back to stroke gently through the ebony strands of his hair, scarcely daring to believe that he is here, that Wei Wuxian is here, that this moment belongs to him, and that all of this is real, and solid, and true.

He can feel himself choking up as Wei Wuxian stirs under his caress, and he blinks back the wetness in his eyes as Wei Wuxian shifts to nuzzle into his throat.

“Er-gege,” Wei Wuxian groans, voice gravelly with sleep. “Why are you awake? It’s too early,” he complains, snuggling closer.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji whispers. “I have to go home and get changed before work.”

“No,” Wei Wuxian protests, tightening his arm around Lan Wangji’s torso. “Stay with me.”

“I would love to,” Lan Wangji says, voice earnest and heart constricting with longing. “But I should go. I will have to shower, too.”

“Later,” Wei Wuxian insists. “Hold me a little longer, won’t you, Er-gege?”

“All right,” Lan Wangji relents, pressing a kiss to the top of Wei Wuxian’s head.

Wei Wuxian sighs contentedly, and he’s asleep again within minutes, breath coming out long and low across Lan Wangji’s skin.   

Lan Wangji lies like that, dozing on and off for another hour, softly caressing Wei Wuxian’s hair and inhaling the scent of him, the sweetness underneath the dried sweat and sex. He quietly disentangles himself, shifting Wei Wuxian so that he curls into the mound of blankets Lan Wangji leaves behind him. He locates his clothes on the ground and quickly gets dressed before returning to sit on the side of the bed.

“Wei Ying,” he whispers, stroking the side of Wei Wuxian’s face gently. “Wei Ying, I have to go.”

Wei Wuxian flutters his eyes open, coming awake for the second time that morning.

“Kiss me first,” he breathes out, tugging on Lan Wangji’s hand.

Lan Wangji leans down to kiss him, lips probing softly, and Wei Wuxian opens beneath him, warm and pliant, his arms coming up to wrap around Lan Wangji’s neck. Lan Wangji lets Wei Wuxian draw him deeper until the heat starts to build a little too insistently, and then he draws back with a quick nip to Wei Wuxian’s bottom lip.

Wei Wuxian sighs sleepily. “I miss you already,” he murmurs, relaxing back into the pillows. “I’ll see you later, then. Next time, pack a bag,” he adds, before closing his eyes again.

“Mn,” Lan Wangji agrees softly, feeling impossibly fond. “I’ll see you soon.”

Wei Wuxian hums at him, already half asleep, and Lan Wangji slips out of the bedroom, heading down the hallway to collect his crumpled suit jacket and coat from in front of the door. He retrieves his shoes from where they were unceremoniously kicked out of the way last night and slips them on before exiting the apartment and heading out into the crisp, cool morning.

He feels like a living cliché on the drive back to his own apartment. The scenery flashes by, brighter and more colourful than before, the sunshine more brilliant, and the air when he steps out of his car is fresher, the whole world welcoming him back.

He takes a long, hot shower, luxuriating in the heat of the water and the steam off the tiles. He gets dressed with extra care and attention to the clothes he picks out, and he hums softly to himself as he prepares his morning tea. He’s certainly not skipping as he makes his way into the office, but he feels lighter, somehow.

He doesn’t have to wait long to see Wei Wuxian again. It’s around 9 o’clock when there’s a knock on his office door, and Wei Wuxian enters, smiling widely and carrying a cup of tea. He comes directly around the desk without asking, setting the cup down in front of Lan Wangji and then leaning down to kiss him soundly, hands coming up to hold the sides of Lan Wangji’s head.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji breathes against his mouth.

“Good morning,” Wei Wuxian breathes back before claiming his lips again in a long, languid kiss.

It’s several moments before they pull apart, and Lan Wangji lets his eyes flutter open to meet Wei Wuxian’s adoring stare. He feels his stomach flip at the sight, but not unpleasantly, and he almost wells up again with the force of his gratitude. He almost wants to pinch himself, just to make sure. 

“Will you come see me at lunch?” Wei Wuxian asks, voice soft and entreating as he perches himself on the edge of Lan Wangji’s desk. “I’d love to see you if you have time.”

“I may have too much to catch up on,” Lan Wangji admits. He usually doesn’t take a lunch; he just eats at his desk when he remembers to bother. “But I will try.”

“Do that,” Wei Wuxian says, leaning forward and punctuating his words with another kiss. “Wen Qing and I are getting sushi delivered. I’ll order extra for you, and if you can’t make it, we can save it for tonight. Will you come over again?” he asks, almost sounding shy.

“Yes,” Lan Wangji answers immediately. “I would like that.”

“Good,” Wei Wuxian says, his shoulders relaxing. “I have some errands to run, but I should be home by 7:00.”

Lan Wangji nods. “I will pack a bag,” he says seriously.

Wei Wuxian laughs, eyes overflowing with love. “Yes, good,” he smiles. “I want to wake up with you,” he says, suddenly serious.

“I’d like that, too,” Lan Wangji murmurs, tucking a wisp of hair behind Wei Wuxian’s ear.

“We’re on the same page, then,” Wei Wuxian says softly.

“Yes,” Lan Wangji whispers, aching with affection.

“Okay,” Wei Wuxian says, kissing him one more time before drawing back and sliding off the desk. “Hopefully, I’ll see you at lunch. And if not, just message me, and I’ll see you tonight.”

Lan Wangji nods. “I will.”

“See you later, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian smiles.

“See you later, Wei Ying.”

---

Lunchtime rolls around, and Lan Wangji finds himself entering the courtyard, having completed enough of his work to take a real break for once. Wei Wuxian has summoned him outside, wanting to take advantage of the budding spring weather, and Wen Qing beckons him over to the picnic table when she sees him. Wei Wuxian turns toward him as he approaches, a smile stretched across his face, wide and welcoming.

“You made it,” Wei Wuxian says, eyes crinkling up at the corners. “Sit down,” he commands, hauling Lan Wangji onto the bench beside him.

“How’s the day going?” Wen Qing asks, popping open containers and gathering them all together in the middle of the table. “I hope you’re okay with sharing everything, even with baby shark over there,” she says.

Wei Wuxian just laughs as Lan Wangji answers. “It’s busy, but it is going quite well, thank you.”

“Oh, shoot, I forgot the drinks. Be right back,” Wei Wuxian says, giving Lan Wangji’s shoulder a squeeze before he departs.

Wen Qing watches him go before fixing Lan Wangji with a knowing look.

“I see you two have…” she trails off suggestively.

Lan Wangji raises his eyebrows at her, staring impassively, although he can feel his ears heating up.

“Talked?” she finishes.

“Yes,” Lan Wangji confirms. “We have.”

“That’s good,” she says smoothly. “I would say it’s about time, but that’s far too judgmental for someone who doesn’t know the whole story.”

“What did you know?” Lan Wangji asks, honestly curious.

“Not much,” she admits. “I wasn’t kidding when I said he’d never mentioned you before. At least, not by name.”

Lan Wangji tilts his head in question.

“Sometimes,” Wen Qing explains, “when he got really drunk, he’d wax poetic about a beautiful boy who used to play the piano for him. He’d get really effusive, and then he’d get really sad.”

Lan Wangji feels his heart clench at that admission.

“I could tell it affected him deeply just to remember you,” she continues. “And when he sobered up, he never mentioned it again, like he was determined to forget. But he clearly couldn’t, and I could tell he was still in love with you,” she says, matter of fact.

Lan Wangji flushes a little, gratified but also sad to hear it. Part of him—the possessive and jealous part—is happy to know that Wei Wuxian has never stopped loving him, but the rest of him hurts at the idea that Wei Wuxian might have been in pain for all of those years.

“He’d probably throttle me for telling you this, but I just thought you should know,” Wen Qing says, gaze serious. “He adores you. Utterly and completely. I hope you know that.”

“I do,” Lan Wangji says. “At least, I am trying my best to believe it again,” he amends.

“Believe it,” Wen Qing says, suddenly fierce. “Whatever else you believe, believe that.”

“I will,” Lan Wangji promises, voice quiet and sincere.

They sit in comfortable silence after that, Wen Qing looking thoughtful but satisfied, and then Wei Wuxian returns to the table bearing three bottles of green tea.

“What did I miss?” he chirps.

“Oh, you know,” Wen Qing says airily. “Just gossiping about you.”

“Hey now,” Wei Wuixian warns, snagging a piece of unagi. “Two can play at that game.”

Wen Qing snorts. “I am immaculate, and you know it.”

“Maybe,” Wei Wuxian admits, placing a piece of toro in front of Lan Wangji. “But Wen Ning did tell me a bit about your time as a drug smuggler in university.”

“Yes, but I’m proud of that,” she declares. “And you make it sound so illicit. It was just marijuana.”

“From Canada,” Wei Wuxian points out. “Hence, the smuggling.”

“It’s legal there,” Wen Qing shrugs.

“It wasn’t legal back then,” Wei Wuxian says.

“Well, then I guess I should be extra proud of making so many successful runs,” she says smoothly. “It has amazing medicinal properties, you know.”

“Right,” Wei Wuxian grins. “That’s exactly why people like it.”

“None of my business why people want it,” Wen Qing says lightly. “I’m just glad that they did.” She smiles slyly. “University wasn’t cheap.”

Lan Wangji looks between them as Wei Wuxian laughs freely.

“No judgment,” Wen Qing says to Lan Wangji, fixing him with a pointed stare.

“No,” he says sincerely, meeting her gaze head-on. “None whatsoever.”

---

The next morning is a mixture of joy and confusion for Lan Wangji. He still wakes up at 5:00am, but this time, he knows he doesn’t have to rush away. The comfort of having Wei Wuxian embracing him, the peace of stroking Wei Wuxian awake as his alarm goes off at 7:00am is something so uniquely calming and beautiful that he has to catch his breath as the sunlight from the window lights up Wei Wuxian’s face.

But Lan Wangji is a creature of habit, and having his morning routine disrupted leaves him a touch off-kilter, especially as he discovers that Wei Wuxian is a chaotic mess in the morning. They shower together, which is incredibly nice, but there is no food in Wei Wuxian’s kitchen. There is no tea, or even a working coffee machine to be had.

“I’m sorry,” Wei Wuxian says, tone rueful. “I admit, I usually just fall out of bed and get dressed before dashing out the door. I think this is the first time in months I actually got out of bed when the first alarm went off.”

“It’s fine,” says Lan Wangji, even though he definitely does not think this is an optimal way to start the day.

Wei Wuxian looks at him sheepishly. “We’ll pick up some supplies for tomorrow.”

The thought is so perfectly domestic, and Lan Wangji’s heart seizes up with want.

“If you’d like,” Lan Wangji begins, the obvious thought striking him. “You could stay at my place,” he offers tentatively.

“You’d be okay with that?” Wei Wuxian says, eyes wide and shining.

“Of course,” Lan Wangji assures him, distressed at the idea that Wei Wuxian might have thought otherwise. “You would be very welcome.”

“I’d like that,” Wei Wuxian says, his smile blossoming sweetly. “I’ll come back and pack a bag after work. Is showing up at seven okay?”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji says. “That will be perfect.”

“You know,” says Wei Wuxian, eyes sparkling as he wraps his arms around Lan Wangji’s neck. “I think it will be.”

---

The following days begin to bleed together with a happy, delicate routine developing between them. Lan Wangji acquires a French press and a coffee grinder, and Wei Wuxian starts eating breakfast in the mornings, perched on the stool at Lan Wangji’s kitchen counter. He chatters happily, filling the space with warmth and laughter where before there was only ever sterile silence. Lan Wangji’s small, sparsely furnished apartment starts to feel like a home, and Lan Wangji starts to learn Wei Wuxian’s small habits, his little idiosyncrasies.

He also learns how to fuck him.

Wei Wuxian’s appetite for sex with Lan Wangji is just as voracious as his appetite for food, and Lan Wangji discovers, much to Wei Wuxian’s delight, that his own stamina is almost inhuman. Their nights together stretch on for hours, and on the days when Wei Wuxian can be roused early enough, their mornings can be just as active. Lan Wangji is steadily losing his inhibitions, shedding them one by one like old skin. He is growing accustomed to his desire for Wei Wuxian. It’s a constant companion, a delicious ache anticipating release, and Lan Wangji often finds himself distracted during the day by thoughts of the evening that lies ahead.

Sometimes, he is discomfited by the way he thrills at the sensation of holding Wei Wuxian down, the way his desire surges when Wei Wuxian strains uselessly against him. He’s long since learned that Wei Wuxian likes it rough, but just how rough Lan Wangji really wants to get unnerves him. He wonders what Wei Wuxian would say to his wish to tie Wei Wuxian down, to ravish him as Wei Wuxian arches and struggles, to take him violently and mercilessly as Wei Wuxian cries out against him. He has fantasies of taking Wei Wuxian forcefully in public places, of muffling his voice so they won’t be discovered.

He hasn’t dared to tell Wei Wuxian any of this, his stomach churning with shame at the thought. He has no complaints about the sex they are actually having, so he is loath to bring up something that might scare Wei Wuxian off. A small part of him still can’t believe that any of this is real, and he still wakes up some mornings with the sleep-fogged fear that he will suddenly be alone again. He’s been jolted awake more than once in the middle of the night by irrational dreams of everything crumbling, each one more menacing and nebulous than the last.

But each time, Wei Wuxian is there, coaxing him back into his arms with warm, sleepy words and touches, kissing him softly with whispered promises until Lan Wangji relaxes again.

It’s the morning after one such night when Wei Wuxian arrives unannounced in his office and locks the door behind him. Lan Wangji regards him curiously as Wei Wuxian comes around his desk, and then he gasps in surprise as Wei Wuxian drops to his knees and reaches for him.

Lan Wangji has to muffle himself with the back of his hand, his head thrown back and his eyes screwed shut as Wei Wuxian takes him apart with his mouth. When he comes, it’s with the barest whisper of a groan, body bowing forward again as Wei Wuxian swallows him down and sucks him through the aftermath. Wei Wuxian licks his lips as he tucks Lan Wangji back into his pants, then he rises to kiss him, warm and salty, and Lan Wangji flushes at the taste of himself.

“What was that for?” he manages to get out an eternity later.

“Something to remember me by,” Wei Wuxian says, grin wicked.

Lan Wangji feels a spike of anxiety at the words. “You’re leaving?”

“Just for a few days. I have to go to Yiling for the weekend,” Wei Wuxian explains. “But I’ll be back on Sunday night.”

“Oh,” Lan Wangji says, relaxing slightly.

“And I have something else for you,” Wei Wuxian says, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper.

“What’s this?” Lan Wangji says, unfolding what looks like a medical form.

“My bloodwork,” Wei Wuxian states. “And as you can see, I’m all negative.”

Lan Wangji blinks at him.

“It means no more condoms,” Wei Wuxian explains, voice low and serious.

Lan Wangji can feel his whole body flushing.

“Oh,” he says again, sounding a little high pitched.

Wei Wuxian grins at him. “You’re fucking adorable, you know that?”

Lan Wangji bristles a little, and Wei Wuxian laughs before leaning forward to kiss him again.

“I’m going to miss you,” he says, voice a little rough. “I promise to eat breakfast while I’m away.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji says, heart clenching and overwhelmed by fondness. “See that you do.”

“I will,” Wei Wuxian promises. “You take care of yourself, too.”

“Of course,” Lan Wangji whispers, and Wei Wuxian kisses him again, long and deep.

“Bye, Lan Zhan. I’ll see you on Sunday.”

“Goodbye, Wei Ying.”

Lan Wangji can feel his heart seizing up again as the door clicks shut behind Wei Wuxian, and he chides himself for being ridiculous. It’s only a few days, he tells himself, and it’s not like he’s incapable of being alone. He tries not to be irrationally worried that Wei Wuxian won’t be coming back, but the thought sits uncomfortably in the back of his mind.

It occurs to him that they have not discussed what will happen at the end of this project. Lan Wangji knows that the extraction must be nearing completion; it can’t be long before what’s holding Wei Wuxian here inevitably concludes, and Lan Wangji dreads what might come next.  

Later that afternoon, it’s in this state of mind that Lan Wangji looks up in surprise as his office door bursts open without a knock. He has just enough time to note the startled look on his secretary’s face before Jiang Cheng storms into his office and slams the door shut behind him.

Jiang Cheng marches up to the front of his desk and glares down at him, eyes menacing, his fists clenched at his sides. He’s nearly vibrating with anger, and Lan Wangji stares at him for an unending minute before finally addressing him.

“Jiang Wanyin,” he begins. “May I help you?”

“You’ve got some nerve,” Jiang Cheng growls, fists uncurling only to clench again. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing with my brother?”

Lan Wangji blinks in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Lan Wangji,” Jiang Cheng snarls. “I know you’ve wormed your way back into his life, and I do not fucking like it.”

Lan Wangji glowers, his hackles rising. “It’s none of your business,” he bites out.

“The Hell it’s not!” Jiang Cheng roars. “He cried for you, you asshole. For months, he cried where only I could see him. He wouldn’t eat. He barely slept. He spent the next year and a half gutted by grief, fuelled by nothing but rage and caffeine. I witnessed all of it. Like Hell this is not my business.”

Lan Wangji takes in a shaky breath, deflated and deeply affected by what he’s hearing. “I never meant to hurt him,” he says. It sounds so pathetic and futile, he thinks.

“Like that fucking matters?” Jiang Cheng spits. “Because you did. Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch someone you love hurt like that? It was like a light went out behind his eyes, and all that was left was rage and grief.”

Lan Wangji stares at him, feeling helpless and guilty.

“It was like he fucking disappeared. He barely spoke to us anymore. We went to university in the same fucking state, and I barely saw him,” Jiang Cheng continues, relentless. “Do you have any idea how long it’s been since he’s been home? It took the birth of his nephew to bring him back, and I can only pray it’s enough to keep him coming because otherwise, I might never fucking see him! He’s so focused on taking over the world, just to show you and yours that he doesn’t need any of us!”

Lan Wangji feels the old shame threatening to overtake him. He grips his pen so tightly he thinks it might snap.

“And now you’re back,” Jiang Cheng seethes. “You’re fucking back and he won’t stop talking about you.”

Lan Wangji swallows and finds his voice at last. “Do you believe him to be unhappy?”

“Oh, fuck you!” Jiang Cheng hurls at him. “Of course he’s fucking happy right now! But do you seriously think it will last? You think you can make him happy? Keep him happy? You and your fucking superior attitude?”

Lan Wangji grits his teeth and tries not to flinch. “I intend to try.”

“Of course you do,” Jiang Cheng sneers. “But you had better be fucking serious this time, or I swear to God, Lan Wangji, I will kill you with my bare hands.”

“I will not hurt him again,” Lan Wangji swears. He means it with his whole heart.

“You had better fucking not,” Jiang Cheng hisses. “Or I will personally rip your throat out.” He takes a deep, angry breath. “I do not fucking like you. But for whatever reason, Wei Wuxian loves you. And if that means I have to put up with you, I will. But if you so much as give him a papercut, I swear to fucking God—”

“You won’t have to,” Lan Wangji cuts him off. “If I hurt him, I would rather kill myself.”

They stare at each other, locked in a stalemate, Jiang Cheng’s furious glare meeting Lan Wangji’s anguished gaze, neither of them wanting to be the first to look away.

“Then,” Jiang Cheng growls, “I think we understand each other.”

“Indeed,” Lan Wangji replies.

Jiang Cheng is finally the first to break eye contact.

“Good,” he says gruffly.

“Will that be all?”

“Fuck you,” Jiang Cheng says, and then he turns on his heel and storms out of Lan Wangji’s office.

---

Wei Wuxian arrives back in Gusu on Sunday night along with the first rain they’ve had all week. He sheds his soaking jacket once he’s through the door of Lan Wangji’s apartment, and Lan Wangji kisses the raindrops off his eyelashes in greeting.

“I brought dinner,” Wei Wuxian says, hoisting up a bag of takeout food. “It’s Thai, but I made sure to get everything as non-spicy as possible. I promise it’s super tame. I’ll just add hot sauce to mine.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji says softly, drinking in the sight of him.

It’s only been a couple of days, and they’ve messaged each other in the interim, but Lan Wangji is desperately glad to have him back, especially after the pain of Jiang Cheng’s visit. It’s affected him more than he cares to admit.

“Everything all right?” Wei Wuxian asks as he unloads the food. “You seem a little sad.”

Lan Wangji marvels at Wei Wuxian’s ability to read him.

“I had a visit from your brother while you were away,” he says, deciding to be direct.

Wei Wuxian abruptly freezes, every inch of him going perfectly still, and Lan Wangji feels a sudden chill run up his spine as Wei Wuxian’s face drains of colour.

“Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji tries.

“What the fuck did he say to you?” Wei Wuxian suddenly snaps, coming back to life and flushing angrily.

Lan Wangji is taken aback by Wei Wuxian’s sudden ire.

“What the fuck did he say?” Wei Wuxian repeats. “What did he say to put that look on your face?”

“He wanted me to know how hurt you’d been,” Lan Wangji confesses.

“No!” Wei Wuxian exclaims. “That fucking asshole,” he snarls. “He had no right! He has no right to tell you those things!”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, attempting to soothe him. “He meant no harm.”

Wei Wuxian barks out a derisive laugh. “Oh, sure he didn’t. What, did he tell you how pathetic I was? Did he tell you I cried and mourned like someone had died? No, I won’t have it, I won’t have him coming around and trying to put you off me!”

“He was only concerned—“

“Right!” Wei Wuxian explodes. “Because a concerned relative worked out so well for us the last time!”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji gasps, his heart pierced with sorrow. “Wei Ying, please…”

“He doesn’t get to do that,” Wei Wuxian spits out, voice wet. “He doesn’t get to take you away from me again.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Lan Wangji says, but his voice is traitorously unsteady. His heart is racing, and he grasps for calm, knowing that Wei Wuxian needs him to be solid right now. “He only meant to determine that I would not treat this relationship lightly.”

“By threatening you?” Wei Wuxian challenges, and when Lan Wangji hesitates, Wei Wuxian laughs bitterly.

“I knew it,” he says. “I fucking knew it. Jiang Cheng, that fucking idiot.”

“He cares about you,” Lan Wangji tries again. “Wei Ying, I really did hurt you.”

“I don’t care!” Wei Wuxian almost yells. “Do you hear me, Lan Zhan? I do not fucking care!”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes are brimming with tears.

“It wasn’t your fault, all right? None of it was your fault. I forgive you. I forgive you everything!”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji whispers. “You—”

“But do you know who I can’t forgive? Whose conduct I find abhorrent?”

“Wei Ying—”

“Me,” Wei Wuxian cries. “My own. Because if I’d just tried, if I’d just swallowed my pride and called you twelve years ago, what would you have done? Would you have welcomed me back into your life?”

“Would I,” Lan Wangji breathes, every fiber of his being aching at the thought.

“You see?” Wei Wuxian says ruefully. “I could have saved us both so much heartache.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji begins. “It wasn’t your fault. You are not to blame for all of this.”

Lan Wangji can feel his heart cracking as Wei Wuxian’s tears begin to fall. He cannot let Wei Wuxian shoulder this burden so unfairly.

“You were hurt,” Lan Wangji insists. “You were heartbroken. I left you.”

“You were fucking kidnapped,” Wei Wuxian says flatly. “Your fucking uncle kidnapped you and took you away from me, and now Jiang Cheng is trying to scare you away with stories about how miserable I was.”

“I will not be put off,” Lan Wangji swears. “But Wei Ying, you must believe me. It wasn’t your fault. It doesn’t even matter anymore. Because it’s like you said, we are here now. Be here now, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian tips his head back to look at the ceiling as his tears continue to fall, and he takes a deep, shuddering breath to steady himself.

“Be here with me,” Lan Wangji breathes.

The room is quiet, save for the sound of rain against the window.

“What do you need?” Lan Wangji asks, voice soft and entreating.

Wei Wuxian stares at him with wet, beseeching eyes. He looks lost, young again somehow, old wounds and insecurities laid bare on his face.

“Tell me you want me,” Wei Wuxian says.

“I want you, Wei Ying.”

“Tell me you want to keep me,” he pleads.

“I want to keep you,” Lan Wangji avers.

“Tell me I’m yours,” Wei Wuxian begs.

“You’re mine,” Lan Wangji vows. “You are mine, Wei Ying.”

“Show me,” Wei Wuxian whispers.

Lan Wangji stares at him, heat uncoiling dangerously in the pit of his gut. Slowly, he comes around the counter and stalks toward Wei Wuxian, feeling almost predatory, his heart pounding in his ears. He closes the gap between them and grasps Wei Wuxian with both hands at the back of his neck, tipping his head back slightly as he looms into Wei Wuxian’s space. He watches Wei Wuxian’s pupils dilate, and his desire spikes as Wei Wuxian’s lips part on a breathless little whimper.

He nips lightly at the side of Wei Wuxian’s mouth and feels Wei Wuxian tremble in response. He crowds even closer, then he slides one hand down to the small of Wei Wuxian’s back. He fists the other hand in Wei Wuxian’s hair, then he jerks him forward so that their hips collide at the same time he claims Wei Wuxian’s mouth in a rough, searing kiss.

The effect is immediate; Wei Wuxian’s whole body shudders in his arms, and he lets out a desperate moan into Lan Wangji’s mouth. Lan Wangji responds by yanking on his hair, angling Wei Wuxian’s head even farther back before plundering his mouth with his tongue. He wrenches away to drag his teeth up the side of Wei Wuxian’s jaw, eliciting another shudder before he closes his teeth on Wei Wuxian’s earlobe.

“Is this what you want?” he breathes into Wei Wuxian’s ear. “You want me to claim you?”

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian gasps, voice choked and broken. “Yes, please yes.”

“Mark your words,” Lan Wangji growls, and then he crashes their mouths together in another bruising kiss.

Wei Wuxian clings to him, back arched from where Lan Wangji’s arm is looped around his waist. He throws his arms around Lan Wangji’s neck as Lan Wangji lifts him bodily off the floor and carries him into the bedroom. He deposits Wei Wuxian roughly onto the bed, and then Lan Wangji climbs up to straddle him, grabbing both of Wei Wuxian’s wrists and pinning them beside his head before diving down to kiss him again. He sucks Wei Wuxian’s bottom lip into his mouth and teases it between his teeth, and he is rewarded with another moan.

Pulling back, he takes a moment to survey his work. Wei Wuxian is panting hard beneath him, eyes dark and hungry, lips bruised an enticing shade of red. The heat that’s building in his gut intensifies, and Lan Wangji grinds his hips down into Wei Wuxian, who throws his head back and moans.

He reaches down and yanks Wei Wuxian’s sweater over his head, ripping it off and tossing it away. He takes advantage of Wei Wuxian’s tossed up arms by seizing both wrists again and pinning them above Wei Wuxian’s head with one hand. With the other, he works Wei Wuxian’s jeans open, deftly popping the button and pulling the zipper down. All the while, he maintains eye contact with Wei Wuxian, who shivers and watches him with wide, hungry eyes.

“Er-gege,” Wei Wuxian gasps. “Please…”

“Silence,” Lan Wangji growls, kissing him harshly and swallowing his protests.

He moves down Wei Wuxian’s body and strips him of the rest of his clothes. Wei Wuxian lies naked, splayed out underneath him, looking utterly defenseless. It stokes something dark and hungry in Lan Wangji to see it. He places one hand heavily on Wei Wuxian’s chest, thumb and forefinger pressed against his collarbones, pinning him in place, then he reaches down with his other hand to seize Wei Wuxian’s cock.

Wei Wuxian whimpers and jerks into Lan Wangji’s hand, and Lan Wangji strokes him roughly, keeping an eye on Wei Wuxian’s face, watching as it contorts with pleasure. His arms are still lying above his head, hands twisting in the sheets there, and Lan Wangji thrills at how wanton he looks. He is struck by the urgent need to make him writhe, to feel him with his whole body, and Lan Wangji releases him briefly to unclothe himself.

He undresses in record time, tossing his clothes unceremoniously to the floor before laying himself on top of Wei Wuxian, kissing him deeply and running his hands up the sides of his body. He attacks Wei Wuxian’s neck with teeth and tongue, and Wei Wuxian wraps his legs around Lan Wangji’s waist and claws at Lan Wangji’s back. Lan Wangji hisses a little at the sensation, drawing back to seize Wei Wuxian’s wrists again, and Wei Wuxian trembles deliciously when Lan Wangji pins him to the bed once more to ravage his mouth and rut their hips together.

He reaches over to the nightstand to retrieve the lube, bypassing the box of condoms with an excited, heated thrill. He settles between Wei Wuxian’s legs and slicks his fingers up, and then he descends to take Wei Wuxian’s cock in his mouth at the same time he slips the first finger inside.

Wei Wuxian groans appreciatively, letting his legs fall farther apart and tangling one hand into Lan Wangji’s hair, careful not to pull, just massaging the scalp with his fingers. Lan Wangji continues to work him open while sucking on his cock, tongue swirling at the head as he almost slides off before slipping back down the length again. He’s not as good at this as Wei Wuxian is, but he’s a fast learner, and Wei Wuxian has no complaints.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian gasps after Lan Wangji has worked in another finger, crooking them inside so that Wei Wuxian writhes. “Lan Zhan, please. I’m ready, I need your cock, please, just fuck me now, Lan Zhan…”

Lan Wangji pulls off of him, looking up to study Wei Wuxian’s face. He’s flushed and teary-eyed, pupils blown and mouth bruised.

“Please,” he begs. “Fuck me raw.”

Lan Wangji has to bite back a groan at that, and he sits up, seizing Wei Wuxian around his hips and flipping him over onto his stomach. Wei Wuxian gasps into the mattress as Lan Wangji grabs his wrists and pins them behind his back. He pushes Wei Wuxian’s knees forward, angling his ass in the air, and Wei Wuxian moans in anticipation. Lan Wangji slicks himself up and lets his cock slide over the cleft of Wei Wuxian’s ass, and Wei Wuxian’s whole body trembles with need.

“Please, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian keens. “Please, I need you in me.”

Lan Wangji takes his time, heedless of Wei Wuxian’s pleas, positioning himself carefully and pushing the tip of his cock past the tight ring of flesh. He lingers there for a moment before taking a deep breath, and then he thrusts forward, sheathing himself in one swift motion.

Wei Wuxian lets out a sharp, almost anguished cry, his body tensing around Lan Wangji, fingers clenching where his hands are pinned to his back. Lan Wangji holds him steady, gritting his teeth at the nearly overwhelming sensation of the tight, slick heat that’s surrounding him.

“Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji manages, voice tight but questioning.

“Move,” Wei Wuxian chokes out. “Just, move, Lan Zhan.”

Needing no further encouragement, Lan Wangji pulls back a few inches, then thrusts back in, smacking them together harshly. Wei Wuxian lets out a strangled groan, but it’s thick with desire, so Lan Wangji thrusts again, beginning a steady piston motion with his hips. 

He keeps the thrusts short and sharp, gradually quickening his pace and then drawing back for deep, smooth strokes. He releases Wei Wuxian’s hands and reaches out to grasp his hair instead, hauling Wei Wuxian onto all fours as he wails in pleasure. He yanks so that Wei Wuxian’s back is arched, angling himself to hit the spot that makes Wei Wuxian clench and tremble in ecstasy. Wei Wuxian cries out with every thrust, begging and pleading to be taken harder, faster, deeper.

“God, please—Ah! Lan Zhan! Please, be rougher with me, Lan Zhan, please!”

Lan Wangji increases his pace. He releases Wei Wuxian’s hair and grabs him by the hips, pulling him back with both hands as he thrusts forward, driving himself deeper into Wei Wuxian’s body.

“Come inside me!” Wei Wuxian begs. “Make me yours!” he almost sobs.

Lan Wangji hauls him upright so that Wei Wuxian is seated in his lap, and he resumes thrusting as he wrenches Wei Wuxian’s head back for a harsh, messy kiss. He reaches around and grasps Wei Wuxian’s cock, stroking him roughly until Wei Wuxian tenses and comes all over his hand with a resounding shout.

He fucks Wei Wuxian through his orgasm, letting Wei Wuxian spasm around him until he can feel himself start to come apart, and he lets Wei Wuxian fall forward again, catching him so that he falls on all fours, and Lan Wangji fucks into him until he finally comes, spilling hot and slick inside Wei Wuxian’s body. Wei Wuxian shudders and moans at the feeling before collapsing completely, and Lan Wangji follows him down, chest falling flush against Wei Wuxian’s back.

He finds the nape of Wei Wuxian’s neck with his mouth and gives him a firm, satisfied bite.

“Mine,” he breathes out against Wei Wuxian’s skin.

Wei Wuxian groans and shudders underneath him.

“Yours,” he exhales. “Lan Zhan. I think you’ve killed me.”

Lan Wangji grumbles and shifts off of him, pulling Wei Wuxian around to face him and gently unfolding his body. He runs his hands softly up and down Wei Wuxian’s arms before capturing one of his hands and bringing it up to his mouth for a kiss.

“All right?” he asks, as he strokes Wei Wuxian’s hair out of his face. He notes with some distress that Wei Wuxian is crying.

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian smiles reassuringly through the tears. “I’m great, actually,” he sniffs. “Although I probably don’t look it.”

“No,” Lan Wangji agrees quietly, caressing his cheek. “You look a little overwhelmed.”

Wei Wuxian nods, but he smiles again, tears leaking out where his eyes are crinkling up.

“I’m happy,” he promises. “I needed that. I needed you.”

“You have me,” Lan Wangji says, voice soft. “Always.”

“Promise?” Wei Wuxian asks wetly.

“I promise,” Lan Wangji vows.

“Good,” Wei Wuxian sniffs. He nuzzles into Lan Wanji’s hand and sighs. “What have I done to deserve you, Lan Zhan?”

“You didn’t have to do anything,” Lan Wangji says, stroking his thumb across the delicate skin under Wei Wuxian’s eye. “You’re worth the world to me, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian watches him, eyes huge and a little sad. Lan Wangji wishes he had something perfect to say, some magical incantation to chase the away the lingering sorrow in Wei Wuxian’s gaze.

“If I had just believed that sooner,” Wei Wuxian whispers. “If I’d just had more faith in you.”

Lan Wangji shakes his head. “You’re not the only one who made choices you regret, Wei Ying.” He leans in to press a kiss to Wei Wuxian’s forehead. “Please. Forgive yourself.”

Wei Wuxian settles his hand over Lan Wangji’s heart, and Lan Wangji shivers a little, despite the warmth of Wei Wuxian’s palm.

“Will you do the same?” Wei Wuxian asks. “Can you be as kind to yourself as you are to me, Lan Zhan?”

Lan Wangji swallows, struck by how a part of him instinctively recoils from the idea.

“I can try,” he manages, voice a little rough.

“We can’t go back,” Wei Wuxian says, voice low and eyes grave. “Let’s move forward, Lan Zhan. I can do it if you’re with me.”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji whispers, solemn as any vow.   

Wei Wuxian graces Lan Wangji with another watery smile. “You’re so good. You’re so good to me. I feel so much better. Thank you, Lan Zhan. You were really incredible.”

“I was?” Lan Wangji asks, feeling shy. It’s a ludicrous emotion, he thinks, considering what they’ve just done.

Wei Wuxian nods, smile morphing into a grin. “I love it when you’re mean to me.”

“You think I’m mean?”

“I like when you won’t let me move, or tell me to be quiet, or bite me really hard. I especially like that,” Wei Wuxian enthuses. “It’s the good kind of mean. Please bully me more in bed!”

Lan Wangji blinks at him. “I don’t think you are capable of being quiet.” And in truth, he likes it when Wei Wuxian begs.

“But it’s fun to try and make me, right?” Wei Wuxian insists.

“It could be,” Lan Wangji allows.

“You know what else could be fun?” Wei Wuxian asks, beaming with enthusiasm. “How about tying me up?”

Lan Wangji flushes from head to toe.

“You totally want to!” Wei Wuxian crows. “I knew it!”

Lan Wangji averts his eyes, feeling the flickerings of shame.

“Don’t do that,” Wei Wuxian says, suddenly serious. “Don’t you dare feel bad about this.”

Lan Wangji swallows and looks back up to meet Wei Wuxian’s gaze.

“The things I want to do to you,” Lan Wangji says, voice strained. “They are unseemly.”

“I should certainly hope so!” Wei Wuxian says indignantly.

Lan Wangji opens his mouth to protest, but Wei Wuxian silences him with a finger on his lips.

“Lan Zhan, listen. It’s okay to want things. It’s especially okay to want kinky things we can discuss and discover that I probably want, too. I can practically guarantee you that my fantasies are more fucked up than yours.”

Lan Wangji blinks at him again. “How can you be sure?”

“I just am,” Wei Wuxian shrugs. “I spent plenty of time as a teenager wishing you’d throw me violently over your desk, sometimes in front of the entire class, and that was about as tame as it got. Things just escalated from there. Trust me, I am a bit of a freak.”

“Oh,” Lan Wangji says.

“You’re not the only one with unseemly desires, Er-gege,” Wei Wuxian drawls. “We just have to figure out which ones are mutual.” He punctuates his words with a kiss. “I’d be willing to guess that most of them are.”

Lan Wangji regards him seriously. He takes in his determined facial expression, his open, loving eyes, and Lan Wangji is so thankful for him, he thinks he might explode with it.

“I am glad that you are feeling better, Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says softly. He strokes Wei Wuxian’s cheek with the back of his knuckles and places a kiss on Wei Wuxian’s forehead.

“I am,” Wei Wuxian says cheerfully. “Much better. You know what I want now?”

“What?” Lan Wangji asks.

“I want you to carry me into the shower, because I don’t think I can walk. After we shower, I want to have dinner, and then I want to curl up with you in bed for the rest of the night. Can we do that, Lan Zhan?”

Lan Wangji can feel the corners of his mouth twitching upward.

“Yes, Wei Ying. We can do that.”

Chapter Text

The following Friday is a clear and sunny day, and Wei Wuxian enters Lan Wangji’s office at lunchtime, bearing a cup of tea and a bowl of liang pi.

“No chili oil,” he promises.

“Thank you,” Lan Wangji says, accepting the lunch.

“Also, this,” Wei Wuxian says, extending a folder toward him. He studies Lan Wangji carefully before he continues speaking. “It’s the final report on the extraction project,” he says quietly.

Lan Wangji goes perfectly still, holding Wei Wuxian’s gaze for a long, taut moment before he slowly reaches out to take the report.

“I see,” he says quietly, stomach churning with sickly dread.

“Truthfully, it should have been done a week ago, but I was dragging my feet,” Wei Wuxian confesses. “So I didn’t charge you for the last five days.”

Lan Wangji nods mechanically. “That’s very generous of you.”

“Not really,” Wei Wuxian says lightly. “Just honest. Never let it be said that I took advantage of you.”

“Certainly not,” Lan Wangji says, his heart clenching in his chest.

Wei Wuxian comes around his desk and perches on the edge, regarding Lan Wangji with soft, affectionate eyes. Lan Wangji is itching to touch him, but he holds himself back, trepidation twisting in his gut.

“I have to go, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says gently.

It’s like a knife to Lan Wangji’s heart. “To Yiling?”

“Seattle.”

The knife twists and slices upward, eviscerating him completely.

“I always intended to go back,” Wei Wuxian is saying, voice low and almost soothing. “My life is there, and I’ve been away longer than I originally planned. Things are established in Yiling now, and I won’t need to be back for months.”

“I see,” Lan Wangji says again, voice strained.

Wei Wuxian reaches out a hand, gently tucking an errant strand of hair behind Lan Wangji’s ear, and Lan Wangji turns his face into the touch, suddenly desolate, closing his eyes and brushing his lips against Wei Wuxian’s palm. He’s trying hard not to shake.

“Come with me,” Wei Wuxian whispers, and Lan Wangji’s eyes fly open.

“Come with me,” Wei Wuxian repeats, running his thumb across Lan Wangji’s cheek. “I want us to live together in Seattle. I want to go to sleep with you every night and wake up with you every morning. I want you to force me out of bed and make me breakfast. I want to make two portions for every dinner, one spicy and one bland. I want to kiss you every day, to hold you every day. I want you with me, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji stares at him, heart bleeding, and he thinks he might cry.

“If you don’t,” Wei Wuxian says, voice just a touch unsteady, “if you can’t, then I’ll be back every few months or so to see you. But Lan Zhan, I want to be with you for real. Not long-distance, not part-time. I want you for always.”

Lan Wangji exhales shakily, trying to collect himself.

“Please say yes,” Wei Wuxian whispers.

Lan Wangji can feel himself resettling inside his body. He can feel his nerves come alive and start to sing. He finds his voice at last.

“I will need two months,” he says. “Possibly three.”

Wei Wuxian lets out the breath he’s been holding, shoulders relaxing as his whole face collapses in giddy relief. “Lan Zhan…”

“That should be enough time to hire and transition my replacement, and I will need to sell the apartment.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, smile blossoming across his face as tears gather at the corners of his eyes. “Oh, Lan Zhan!”

Wei Wuxian surges forward to kiss him, leaning forward off the desk and grabbing Lan Wangji’s face between his hands. Lan Wangji kisses back until Wei Wuxian pulls away so he can pepper Lan Wangji’s face with butterfly kisses, flitting around so rapidly it almost makes Lan Wangji dizzy.

“I’m so happy,” Wei Wuxian breathes out between kisses. “Lan Zhan, I’m so fucking happy I could die!”

“Please don’t,” Lan Wangji says. “I have plans for you.”

“You do?” Wei Wuxian pulls back, eyes wet and shining with joy.

“Yes. I plan to keep you. Remember?”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, eyes spilling over. “I love you so fucking much.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji agrees, pulling Wei Wuxian off the desk and into his lap.

It’s a bit of a precarious position since the chair has wheels, but they make it work, and Lan Wangji kisses Wei Wuxian, deeply and thoroughly, Wei Wuxian’s happy tears staining Lan Wangji’s cheeks.

Wei Wuxian pulls back just enough to kiss both of Lan Wangji’s eyelids, then he rests their foreheads together and inhales deeply, breathing Lan Wangji in. When he speaks, his voice is low and serious.

“Lan Zhan, I have a request.”

“What is it?” Lan Wangji asks.

Wei Wuxian pulls back far enough so that they can make eye contact, eyes imploring.

“I want you to bring your mother’s piano with you. Whatever it costs, I’ll pay for it, but I want you to keep it. You have to keep it, Lan Zhan.”

“That’s not necessary,” Lan Wangji says. “I will pay to have it shipped.”

“Let me do this for you,” Wei Wuxian insists. “I want to. I want you to play again.”

“Wei Ying,” says Lan Wangji, infinitely fond.

“Will you play again, Lan Zhan? Even just for yourself?”

“I think I will,” he says, and he realises he means it.

“I want you to play again,” Wei Wuxian repeats. “I want that for you so badly. Lan Zhan, it’s time you concentrated on the things that feed your soul.”

Lan Wangji just looks at him, taking him in, one detail at a time, overwhelmed with affection.

“You can do whatever you want,” Wei Wuxian continues. “Whatever makes you happy, whatever that looks like, I will support you. Even if it takes you years to figure it out, I will support you.”

“Years?” Lan Wangji says, eyebrows raised.

“Yes, years,” Wei Wuxian affirms. “I have more than enough money and business coming in to support us both.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Lan Wangji assures him. “I have a considerable sum in savings. I inherited a trust from my mother when I turned 25.”

“My point still stands,” Wei Wuxian insists. “Whatever you need, however you need it, everything I have is at your disposal. I will move heaven and earth to keep you happy, Lan Zhan.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, touched by Wei Wuxian’s declarations. “You already make me happy.”

“Good,” Wei Wuxian says, kissing him soundly. “But I think you can be happier.”

“I doubt that,” Lan Wangji replies. He is so full of gratitude at this moment, so full of love, that he thinks he might burst with it.  

“Challenge accepted,” Wei Wuxian grins, kissing him one more time before disentangling himself and standing up.

Lan Wangji keeps a hold on his hand, and he gives him a little tug.

“When do you have to leave?” he asks. Whatever the answer is, Lan Wangji knows he’s going to hate it.

“Monday,” Wei Wuxian sighs. “We have the weekend,” he says. “And then it’ll just be a temporary goodbye. We’re making this happen, Lan Zhan.”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji says. He stands as well and embraces Wei Wuxian again. “Yes, Wei Ying. We are.”

“I love you so much,” Wei Wuxian whispers.

They cling to each other for another few minutes, swaying slightly, before Wei Wuxian sighs and pulls away. He kisses Lan Wangji lightly on the lips and steps back out of the circle of Lan Wangji’s arms.

“I’d better go touch base with Wen Qing before she takes off. She’s catching an overnight flight tonight.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji says. “I need to take this report to my Uncle.”

“When will you tell him?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“Immediately,” Lan Wangji replies, determination in his voice.

He’s done wasting time.

Wei Wuxian gives him a tentative look, and a shadow of doubt ghosts across his face.

“Do not worry,” Lan Wangji assures him. “I shall not be persuaded. Not by any means.” He takes a step forward and runs the back of his knuckles along Wei Wuxian’s cheek. “I am choosing you, Wei Ying.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian whispers, clutching dramatically at his chest as his eyes well up again. “My poor heart.”

Lan Wangji can feel his face softening. He can feel the edges of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I will see you tonight,” he says, voice warm.

“See you tonight, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian smiles.

Lan Wangji watches as Wei Wuxian slips out of his office, and he cradles that smile in his heart. He carries it with him as he scoops up the report and heads down the hall, feeling how delicate and precious it is. He has something to protect, he thinks.

He will not fail to keep it safe this time.

---

Lan Qiren’s face is like a stormcloud, dour and grey, the lightning lurking somewhere deep within his eyes. But it never strikes; it dissipates like mist, leaving his gaze cool and placid.

Lan Wangji stands in front of his desk, back ramrod straight, holding eye contact with his uncle and willing himself to stay calm. It’s surprisingly easy. His newfound conviction is deeply rooted; He’s at peace with his choice, and nothing his uncle could possibly say will dislodge it. He knows it with all of his heart.

Lan Qiren sighs at last, his eyes falling to the report on his desk. “You are absolutely certain?”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji replies. “You can expect my formal resignation on your desk on Monday.”

His uncle closes his eyes, the muscles in his jaw working, but he remains calm, and when he opens his eyes again, he is regarding Lan Wangji with a tired, regretful look.

“You will be giving up so much,” his uncle says.

“I will be gaining much more,” Lan Wangji replies smoothly.

“You will have no regrets, then?”

“No,” Lan Wangji says with confidence. He is finished with regrets.

Lan Qiren drops his eyes again, face pained and thoughtful.

“I have only ever wanted what I thought was best for you,” his uncle says, voice low. “But I know you have not been happy.”

Lan Wangji remains silent, holding his breath.

“Will this make you happy, Wangji?”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji exhales. “It will.”

Lan Qiren closes his eyes again, and his whole body seems to sigh in resignation.

“Very well, then,” he says, opening his eyes to fix Lan Wangji with a sad, weary stare. “You have my blessing.”

Lan Wangji’s throat suddenly feels terribly constricted.

“Thank you, Uncle,” he manages to get out.

Lan Qiren nods, then turns back to the papers on his desk. “That will be all, then.”

Lan Wangji turns to leave.

“Wangji,” his uncle suddenly calls, and Lan Wangji pauses with his hand on the door.

“I am sorry, Wangji.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t turn around.

“I know,” he says.

He exits his uncle’s office and heads back down the hall, the door clicking shut behind him.

---

The weekend flies by far too quickly, and soon, Lan Wangji is at the airport, embracing Wei Wuxian in a long, bittersweet goodbye. Wei Wuxian buries his face in Lan Wangji’s neck, inhaling deeply and shaking just a little. Lan Wangji thinks he can feel moisture on his neck.

When Wei Wuxian pulls back, his eyes are wet and luminous, a soft, honeyed smile unfurling on his face.

“I’ll message you every day,” he promises, leaning back in to press their lips lightly together. “And I’ll video call you every week. I’m going to miss you so much, Er-gege!”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji says, throat tight and heart aching sweetly.

“Just a few months,” Wei Wuxian says, half to himself. “It’s just a few months.”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji says. “I will join you as soon as I can.”

“I’ll be counting down the days,” Wei Wuxian smiles, punctuating his words with a long, firm kiss.

“Go,” Lan Wangji says, giving his arms a squeeze. “You need to get through security.”

Wei Wuxian nods, a single tear escaping his right eye. Lan Wangji wipes it away with his thumb.

“I love you,” Wei Wuxian chokes out.

Lan Wangji leans in and kisses Wei Wuxian’s forehead.

“Everything,” he whispers.

Wei Wuxian lets out a waterlogged laugh. He presses their lips together one last time, and then he pushes off of Lan Wangji’s chest and heads swiftly for security, not turning back before he disappears around the corner.

Lan Wangji takes a deep breath and heads back to his car.

He has a lot of work to do.

---

His brother is silent and pensive on the other end of the call, his face drawn and his eyes downcast. He’s so still, it’s almost as if he’s not breathing, and Lan Wangji notes the slope of his shoulders, the shadows under his eyes, and the almost imperceptible downturn of his mouth. There’s no tension there, nothing coiled or taut, just a natural submission to gravity. There’s something soft and defenseless about him, something mournful and accepting.

It looks a lot like heartbreak.

“Has he tried to contact you?” Lan Wangji asks.

“No,” Lan Xichen replies softly. “Not yet.”

There’s another long pause before Lan Xichen shifts, lifting his gaze back up to look into the camera.

“Has he persisted in his offer to you?” Lan Xichen asks.

Lan Wangji shakes his head. “I officially declined for the final time last week.”

Jin Guangyao had replied to his email with one last attempt to persuade him, but Lan Wangji had been quick and firm in his rebuttal. Jin Guangyao has not contacted him since.

“What will you do?” Lan Wangji wants to know.

His brother closes his eyes and sighs heavily, his shoulders slumping just a touch more.

“I don’t know,” he confesses. “If he called me right now, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“What do you want to do?” Lan Wangji probes.

“I want to forgive him,” Lan Xichen says, voice quiet and eyes sad. “I want to believe him. I want that more than anything.”

“You promised Nie Mingjue that you’d cut ties with him,” Lan Wangji states. “Why make such a promise if you’re uncertain of his guilt?”

“Because I cannot be sure of his innocence,” Lan Xichen says. “There are things that he’s said, things that he’s done, and pain that he’s caused that I cannot ignore. Whether or not he started the fire is almost inconsequential to me. His actions in the aftermath had such a drastic effect on Nie Mingjue. He conducted the business of selling the storehouses entirely behind his back. It was a true betrayal.”

Lan Xichen lowers his eyes again, sorrow written across his face.

“My forgiveness is not the forgiveness he needs, and I was wrong back then, when I begged Nie Mingjue to give it to him. It was selfish of me. I wanted desperately for there to be peace between two beloved friends, but I wanted it as much for my own sake as for theirs. And you cannot have peace when you do not have trust.”

His brother looks up at the camera again, regretful eyes wet.

“Affection remains, but in the absence of trust, what bond can there be?”

Lan Wangji swallows thickly, feeling a rush of sympathy for his brother. He wonders about his brother’s life, lived across an ocean in the grey streets of London. He wonders if Lan Xichen’s apartment is ever filled with spirited conversation these days, crowded with close friends like it had been in university. He wonders if his brother is lonely.

“I broke your trust once,” Lan Xichen says, startling Lan Wangji out of his reverie. “I helped facilitate great harm to you.”

Lan Wangji swallows again, his throat constricted and suddenly dry.

“It’s fine,” he says quickly, a little desperately. He hadn’t been expecting this turn in the conversation, and Lan Wangji doesn’t know if he’s ready for it.

“Oh, Wangji,” Lan Xichen breathes, his brow furrowed in remorse. “If I could ask for one thing, if I could just change one fate, it would be yours. You deserved so much more, so much better, than the unkindness we enacted on you.”

“I didn’t—You weren’t— “ Lan Wangji struggles to find the words, to speak past the sudden, unbearable clenching of his heart. “I understand why you did it,” he manages to get out.

“That doesn’t mean it was right, or that it wasn’t cruel,” Lan Xichen says. “Please, Wangji. Let me apologise. Let me be sorry. Allow me to carry my share of the guilt. You’ve shouldered it for far too long.”

Lan Wangji lets out a long, shaky breath, eyes glued to his brother’s face on the screen.

“I’m sorry, Wangji,” Lan Xichen says. “I’m so sorry.”

Lan Wangji closes his eyes against the sting of tears, holding back the tangled knot of sorrow uncoiling behind his heart. He wants to protest; he wants to assure his brother that he’s already forgiven him, that everything is fine, and that he’s done looking backward.

But it wouldn’t be true. Not entirely. Some scars have never healed, and Lan Wangji has always been afraid to examine the ones inflicted by his family. Acceptance is not the same as forgiveness, and Lan Wangji has never looked his brother in the eye and acknowledged the role that Lan Xichen had played, all those years ago.

It hurts. And it rankles, a little, to be made to stare this old wound in the face. But Lan Wangji can’t find it in himself to be truly angry. He is weary of pain and misery. He’s ready to let it all go. Lan Wangji inhales deeply, and he feels a calmness settle over him as he breathes through the sorrow, exhaling regret and reaching for gratitude.

His brother has given him a gift. It would be best to accept it.

“Thank you,” Lan Wangji says as he opens his eyes and locks gazes with Lan Xichen. “Thank you, Brother.”

Lan Xichen smiles, soft and honest and true. They sit in silence for a while, both of them adjusting to the new and delicate space between them.

“So, what happens for you now, Wangji?” his brother asks at last. “What will you do?”

Lan Wangji considers his answer. In all honesty, he hasn’t given too much thought as to what happens after he lands in America; he’s been too preoccupied with the preparations for actually getting there. Forms to sign, visas to acquire, immigration lawyers to contact and consult.

“I’m not sure,” he confesses. “I only know that it will involve music.”

“I’m so glad,” Lan Xichen says. “You’re really going to play again.”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji says, full of resolve.

This is his plan, and this is his promise.

He will play, and he will love.

---

In the end, the piano arrives first.

The shipping fees are exactly as exorbitant as Lan Wangji expected, and Wei Wuxian insists on paying for it, just like he promised he would. He messages Lan Wangji a picture of the piano, safely ensconced against the wall in what used to be a second bedroom. Wei Wuxian has cleared it out to make it into a music room, and Lan Wangji is touched by his efforts.

Wei Ying: She’s waiting for you!

Be sure to leave sufficient space between the back of the piano and the wall.

Wei Ying: Hahah, okay, I’ll move it!

Thank you.

Wei Ying: I’m waiting for you, too

Soon.

Soon turns out to be August, and Lan Wangji deplanes in Seattle on a grey, cloudy morning. Wei Wuxian is waiting for him at the international arrivals exit, looking vibrant and radiant, and he throws himself into Lan Wangji’s arms as soon as Lan Wangji is clear of the barrier.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian breathes into his neck. “Lan Zhan, I missed you so much!”

Lan Wangji presses a firm kiss to his temple and holds him tight, savouring the weight of him against his body. Wei Wuxian pulls back far enough to find his lips, and they share a long, slow kiss amidst the swirling crowd of new arrivals, completely lost in each other.

“Come on,” Wei Wuxian says as he breaks the kiss to tug on Lan Wangji’s hand. “Let’s get out of here. You’re probably exhausted.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji agrees, letting himself be led. He’s tired, but he’s also elated, his senses running high after nearly fifteen hours of in-flight anticipation.

The air is crisp and clean, fresh in a way that reminds him of the back hills in the mountains of Gusu, and it comforts him as he steps out into the open, inhaling deeply and feeling the tension of the flight melt away. Wei Wuxian leads him to his car, and Wei Wuxian drives home with one hand periodically on Lan Wangji’s thigh. Lan Wangji dozes, soothed by the motion of the car. Soon, they’ve arrived at Wei Wuxian’s apartment building, and Lan Wangji finds himself riding up in the elevator with Wei Wuxian’s hand in his own.

“It’s not much,” Wei Wuxian says as he unlocks the door and rolls Lan Wangji’s luggage inside. “But it’s home.”

Lan Wangji steps over the threshold and lets the door click shut behind him.

“Welcome home,” Wei Wuxian says, smile radiant, and then he is in Lan Wangji’s arms, lips hot and body pressed tightly against him in a firm, solid line.

Lan Wangji finds that he is not too tired to fall into Wei Wuxian, to let himself be coaxed and lured into the bedroom, tumbled into the sheets, and thoroughly ravished. They grasp at each other, clinging sweetly, pouring the last three months' worth of long-distance yearning into their fervent, tender touches. When it’s over, Lan Wangji collapses into Wei Wuxian’s arms, spent and boneless, the exhaustion of travel finally overtaking him.

“Sleep,” Wei Wuxian purrs, stroking Lan Wangji’s hair, and Lan Wangji can only comply, drifting off with the feeling of Wei Wuxian’s fingers running softly over his scalp.

---

He wakes up to Wei Wuxian shaking him gently, the soft light from the window playing against the far wall.

“Hey, love,” Wei Wuxian says, voice low and soothing. “You should get up. We’ll have an early dinner and then you can go back to bed, hmm? Get you settled in this timezone.”

Lan Wangji nods groggily, letting himself be manhandled into a sitting position, loving the feeling of Wei Wuxian’s hands on him, real and solid and insistent. He comes fully awake as Wei Wuxian joins him in the shower, the two of them luxuriating in each other’s bodies until the hot water runs out.

“Let’s go out to eat,” Wei Wuxian says, doing up the buttons on Lan Wangji’s shirt. “There’s an amazing vegetarian Vietnamese place where I’d love to take you. It’s so good, even I don’t miss the meat.”

“Mn,” agrees Lan Wangji, letting himself be fussed over as Wei Wuxian picks an imaginary piece of lint off his shoulder. He knows Wei Wuxian is just looking for excuses to touch him, but he hardly minds.

They leave the apartment hand in hand, walking leisurely toward their destination. It’s a small, family-owned restaurant with a bright, modern interior, all white brick with natural wood, and the occasional lime green accent. It’s casual and counter service, and Wei Wuxian snags a menu off the counter, quickly scanning the list of dishes.

“Want me to order for us?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“Please,” Lan Wangji says, happy to relinquish control. He’s feeling remarkably relaxed.

He’s content, he realises.

Wei Wuxian orders something called a rickety rickshaw bowl and a golden temple soup. They grab their order number and go to find a table, Wei Wuxian selecting a bright, well lit corner by the window. When the food arrives, it is fresh, fragrant and colourful. Steam curls off a light turmeric and coconut broth teeming with tofu and vegetables, and springy vermicelli noodles are buried beneath shredded beancurd, pickled daikon, Thai basil, and roasted peanuts.

They share everything, eating mostly in silence, and Lan Wangji discovers he is actually very hungry. They finish their bowls and Wei Wuxian goes back to the counter to place an order for taro chips with garlic aioli, snagging two tamarind sodas while he’s there. He comes back to the table with his spoils, and the two of them pick slowly at the taro chips, happy and unhurried.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Wei Wuxian says, extending his hand along the table. Lan Wangji takes it in his own, giving Wei Wuxian’s fingers a squeeze.

“I must have pinched myself and come in to check on you sleeping at least a dozen times,” Wei Wuxian continues. “Just to make sure you were real. That you’re here, and that this is real.”

Lan Wangji hums in agreement. He knows that feeling. He can scarcely believe it himself. But there’s a lightness in his chest, the absence of a gloomy pressure that’s been there for over a decade allowing him to feel the bright things more acutely. His melancholy is still there, but it’s no longer an omnipresent shroud. It’s beaten and tattered, and Lan Wangji is confident that with time, the shadows will begin to fade.

“I was hoping to coax you into things a little bit more gradually, but I think we’re going to have to hit the ground running,” Wei Wuxian says.

“Oh?” Lan Wangji asks, curious.

“My lease is up in a few months,” Wei Wuxian explains. “And I was thinking, we should get a new place together. That way, you wouldn’t just be moving into my place. We’d be getting a fresh start, and it would really be ours.”

“I like that idea,” Lan Wangji says, suffused with sudden warmth. The idea of really making a home with Wei Wuxian, of building it together, fills him with a quiet joy.

“In fact,” Wei Wuxian says, “I was thinking we could buy a place? Only if you want to,” he adds quickly. “I know you just sold your apartment, and you don’t have to reinvest that money right away, but I thought—“

“Yes,” Lan Wangji replies immediately, not waiting for Wei Wuxian to finish his thought. “I would like to buy a home with you, Wei Ying.”

“Really?” The hope that blossoms in Wei Wuxian’s eyes is truly beautiful. “You really want to?”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji avers. “I want to.”

“That’s just… That’s just perfect, Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian says, eyes shining. “How are you so perfect?”

Lan Wangji gives his hand a squeeze.

“This is so great,” Wei Wuxian enthuses. “I’m so glad we got that settled!”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji says, overflowing with affection.

Wei Wuxian’s face becomes serious. Determined.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, voice level. “There’s one more thing.”

“What is it?” Lan Wangji asks.

Wei Wuxian digs around in his jacket pocket with his free hand, coming out with a small, black box. He places it on the table next to their joined hands, his eyes fixed on Lan Wangji’s face.

Lan Wangji blinks at him. “Wei Ying?”

“Open it,” Wei Wuxian says, eyes resolute.

Lan Wangji disentangles his fingers and opens the box. Inside is a simple ring of burnished white gold, gleaming in the diffused light from the cloudy evening outside the window.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji whispers. It’s suddenly hard to breathe.

“Marry me, Lan Zhan.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji exhales. It sounds like a plea.

“I know it may seem sudden, but Lan Zhan, we’ve been waiting for each other for almost 13 years. We could go get the marriage license tomorrow, and I’d be ready. We’d have to wait three days to use it, of course, but the point is, I want to marry you. A lot.”

Lan Wangji stares at him. He thinks his heart might give out.

“I’d marry you right this instant if I could,” Wei Wuxian continues. “I’m done wasting time. Please say yes, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji finds his voice at last, love rushing up his windpipe, unfreezing his vocal cords.

“Yes,” he answers, a little wet, a little hoarse. “Wei Ying, yes.”

The smile that blossoms across Wei Wuxian’s face takes what’s left of Lan Wangji’s breath away.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Wei Wuxian says, eyes welling up. “I don’t know what I would have done if you’d said no!”

“As if I could ever say no to you,” Lan Wangji says, voice earnest. “Not in this. Not in anything.”

“Careful,” Wei Wuxian laughs, eyes spilling over. “You’ll spoil me, Er-gege.”

“I hope to,” Lan Wangji says. “I would give you anything, Wei Ying.”

“All I want is you,” Wei Wuxian gushes. “Just you.”

“You have me,” Lan Wangji vows.

“I know!” Wei Wuxian crows. “Can you believe it?” He fumbles with the box, extracting the ring and slipping it onto Lan Wangji’s finger. “There!” he says, satisfied. “Now it’s official. No take backs!”

“Ridiculous,” Lan Wangji says.

“Now I can let you out without worrying,” Wei Wuxian babbles. “Can you imagine? Letting you walk around otherwise, looking the way that you look. Someone might steal you! This is much better. Yes, better put a ring on it.”

Lan Wangji smiles, the barest curve of his lips. “Beyonce?”

“Beyonce!” Wei Wuxian declares. “She taught me well.”

“Won’t you need one too?” Lan Wangji asks.

“I have it already,” Wei Wuxian confesses. “It’s in my top drawer at home.”

“You’ve really thought about this,” Lan Wangji says.

“Lan Zhan, I’ve had three months to think about very little else,” Wei Wuxian says, smile soft and serene. “I love you, Lan Zhan. I love you so much.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says. It sounds like forever.

“Kiss me, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji leans over and catches Wei Wuxian’s lips with his own. It’s a little awkward with the table between them. It’s a little salty, a little spicy from the chili oil with which Wei Wuxian had doused his dinner, and it’s all a little bit perfect.

Happiness flutters like a moth in Lan Wangji’s chest, light, and rapid, and insistent, and Lan Wangji gives himself up to the beating of his reborn heart.

---

February, 2020

When Lan Wangji is 30 years old, he steps out onto the sprawling deck of an old heritage house and takes Wei Wuxian by the hand. Wei Wuxian’s eyes are wide and laughing, sparking with joyful mirth.

It’s another perfect, cloudy day. The rain has held off, but Lan Wangji can tell that there’s a thunderstorm brewing. It’s a feeling in the air, a delicious tension, an electric haze that suffuses the space between the earth and the sky.

His brother is there, as is his uncle, sitting in the front row with Auntie Yu and Uncle Jiang to their left. Nie Huaisang fans himself furiously while Jiang Cheng glowers affectionately. Jiang Yanli bounces a babbling Jin Ling on her lap, and Wen Qing sits imperiously next to a sniffling Wen Ning and a beatific Luo Qingyang.

He doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t falter.

He maybe cries a little.

Lan Wangji marries the love of his life, and he never looks back.

Fin