Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Summer arrived, and the three weeks since the fighting incident had been some of the easiest weeks in Pan’s existence. Wen Ning hadn't been pestered by Wen Chao again, and the one time they did eye on another in the street, Wen Chao had simply ignored him and walked past him without comment. It made a world of difference to Wen Ning, who seemed far more relaxed at work and was even seen smiling to himself regularly. One day he came to work wearing a headband to keep his hair out of his face and received compliments left and right, from co-workers and regulars. Since then, he no longer obscured his facial features and started experimenting with braids and hair accessories, encouraged by Mian-Mian. It made Lan Xichen beam with pride to see Wen Ning finally getting comfortable in his own skin.

Of Pan's three heroes, Mian-Mian surprisingly turned out to have the longest lasting injury: her bruised hand turned black and blue, and the day after the fight it became rigid and stiff. Doctor Wen send Mian-Mian to the hospital to have an X-ray made and arranged an appointment for her with a specialist to fit her with a special brace, to ensure her digits would heal properly. Mian-Mian was instructed not to exert herself and Lan Xichen kept a close eye on her, but never as close as doctor Wen, who had suddenly become a frequent visitor.

Song Lan spent two days in bed, being doted on by his loving boyfriend, and ended up with not so much as a bruise to show for himself. Wei Ying wore his battle scars with pride: evidently, it would take more than a bruised rib and a split lip to keep him out of the kitchen. He was back on the job within a day and happily allowed himself to be chided by Lan Wangji for not taking care of himself properly. Which of course resulted in Wangji tending to him by compelling him to take regular breaks and drink more tea.

Lan Wangji refused to believe that he felt more for the bashful baker than just friendship. Lan Xichen had decided not to push the matter, but saw his suspicions confirmed in the way Wangji spoke of Wei Ying, looked at Wei Ying, had even placed a table and two chairs in the kitchen with Wei Ying and frequently spend a few hours after lunch working in the other man's vicinity. To keep an eye on him, Lan Wangji said, but Xichen saw the soft smiles and forlorn looks they exchanged, not even secretly.

Lan Xichen kept telling himself they would figure it out eventually, but all the same, he could hardly wait for them to finally open their eyes to what was right in front of them. Until then, he kept his laughs and incredulous head shakes to himself.

Nie Mingjue spend almost every night with him. They rose together every morning, teased each other during breakfast and wished each other a pleasant day with a firm kiss on the doorstep every day. Once Nie Huaisang had started complaining to their brother about how little they saw of one another, Xichen and Mingjue decided to spend dinners together at the Nie household, but strolled over to Xichen’s apartment every night so they wouldn’t inconvenience Nie Huaisang and Wei Ying with the clamour of their lovemaking.

Lan Xichen had left a final message for Xue Yang and found peace in knowing they’d never be together. Nie Mingjue never once mentioned their paused partner again.

It was Wednesday afternoon, and the lunch crowd had just left. Word was going around of Pan’s new chef and his ever-changing, always-surprising assortment of lunch sandwiches, drawing in new customers. You could always tell who was a new face, even if you didn’t posses the memory for facial recognition that Lan Xichen had. You could tell by the fact that they read the name on the facade and its motto and made a face. Sometimes they walked on after that, confused or dissuaded. Sometimes they threw a few more hesitant glances through the windows before walking in the door.

This visitor was one of the latter category. Lan Xichen could see their figure standing outside, reading the name of the establishment, then pacing back and forth a little before coming in. At that exact moment, Lan Xichen had do duck down to grab a new carton of almond milk from the fridge, and so it was Wen Ning who asked the new customer how he could be of service.

‘I am looking for a man named Lan Xichen,’ a gentle voice spoke. ‘I believe he works here?’

Lan Xichen put the carton down and turned to the visitor, only to find himself incapable of speech.

He was small, this man. Not just the opposite of tall: he was petite, yet perfectly proportioned. His large brown eyes bore a question and he carried an insecure smile on his face.

‘Ah, yes,’ said Xichen, after clearing his throat. ‘I am Lan Xichen. How can I help you?’

The man’s smile widened, and… oh my. Two flawless dimples formed in his cheeks, so impeccable it made Xichen smile as well. He felt a stirring in his gut so violent it made his breath hitch. Goodness, he was pretty.

‘I am very sorry to bother you here at work. Can… could we talk, for a moment? It’s about… Nie Mingjue.’

‘Oh.’ Lan Xichen’s smile dissipated. ‘Yes, certainly. I do hope he’s alright?’

‘Yes. I mean, I believe so.’ The man smiled again, insecurely, and batted his eyes. Scratch pretty, he was absolutely gorgeous! Lan Xichen walked past Wen Ning, behind the counter, and gestured the man to join him towards the back of the café, where they might speak in private. The man turned around with impeccable grace and followed Xichen, who was mesmerized. How could it be that someone was so elegant, such a picture of perfection…

And then he realized something was missing. His eye caught the flat left sleeve, devoid of form. An obvious, gaping absence. His breath hitched again, but now for a completely different reason, and he averted his gaze.

Once they had reached the small hallway between the kitchen, the storage room and the café floor, the man spoke again. ‘My name is Meng Yao,’ he said. ‘I’m a… colleague of Nie Mingjue.’

‘A colleague?’ Lan Xichen’s eyes snapped back to the man’s face. Such a handsome face.

‘I mean, I’m his secretary,’ Meng Yao stammered. ‘His... personal secretary.’

It clicked instantly in Xichen’s brain. Maybe it was the word ‘personal’ that did it, maybe it was simply that he could not believe for even a second that Mingjue could behold this man and not fall head over heels in love with him, as Xichen himself just had. Besides that, he’d been telling Mingjue to get an assistant for about half a decade now, partly because Mingjue was always working and Xichen believed in the wholesome effects of taking time off, even if you loved your work; and partly because paperwork had never been Mingjue’s strong point. He had finally done as Xichen told him, and then didn’t bother mentioning it? Just like the other thing he hadn’t want to mention?

This man had been Nie Mingjue’s lover. And that solved the other question as well: why had Nie Mingjue believed it would be better for their relationship to be over? Because it was never a good idea to fall in love with a co-worker, let alone an assitant.

‘I… see,’ was all Lan Xichen could utter, as he processed all of those thoughts.

‘It may be inappropriate for me to be here,’ the man said hesitantly, ‘but Mr Nie has been acting somewhat strange lately, and I noticed your name appearing rather often in his appointments. I know you’re one of his best friends, and… It’s really just that I am concerned: I tried talking to Mr Nie about this himself, but he has been avoiding me...’

Oh, but of course he had. There was a reason Xichen and Mingjue had never formally broken up, and that was because Nie Mingjue was incapable of severing ties. One of his few flaws, that was. Lan Xichen lowered his gaze and licked his lips, trying to think of the best approach.

‘Meng Yao is your name, you said?’

‘Yes. Did…’ The shimmer in Meng Yao’s eyes dimmed somewhat. ‘Did Mingjue never mention me?’

Oh hell. Lan Xichen tried not to sigh out too obviously. ‘I think you and I may need to talk. For real, I mean. Could I err… offer you something to drink?’

He could see light in the other man’s eyes dim even further, as his gaze turned to the floor and that charming smile disappeared completely. So he realized it too.

Now what? He couldn’t possible give the man the bad news in a full café, nor in the hallway. This was one of those few moments where Lan Xichen was sorry Pan didn’t come with some kind of office space.

There was the kitchen. A kitchen with a table, two chairs and a lot of privacy, once the doors were closed.

Lan Xichen reached out and pressed the man’s shoulder. ‘Come with me, please.’ He guided the man through the double doors. Wei Ying, busy as always, looked up at them in surprise.

‘Hey Xichen.’

‘Wei Ying.’ He put on his most charming smile. ‘Could I be very rude and ask you to step out for… however long we need?’

‘Ah, sure. No problem.’ Wei Ying ditched the dough he was working on in a bowl and placed it in the fridge, washed his hands over at the sink and dried them with a towel. ‘I’ll go and err… see if Wen Ning needs help.’

‘Thank you.’

Wei Ying nodded in greeting as he walked by. Lan Xichen offered Meng Yao a seat at the empty table and the man slumped down on the chair. Lan Xichen could see he was holding back tears. Without asking, he turned to the cupboard to grab a clean glass and fill it with water, placed it in front of Meng Yao before sitting down himself.

‘I don’t think I’d be mistaken when I say that your relationship with Nie Mingjue goes beyond professional?’ he asked, as gently as he could. Meng Yao’s eyes seemed even bigger when they were moist. He looked at Lan Xichen, then back at the table. His one hand lay motionless in his lap. Xichen wanted to reach out and take that hand in his.

‘I called Mingjue about a month ago,’ Lan Xichen said. ‘I was going through a break-up and I wanted to talk to my best friend. Our meeting did not turn out the way either of us had intended.’

‘You were lovers, before,’ Meng Yao said, his voice fragile as crystal. ‘He told me that.’

‘He told me he and you were… having a break. Perhaps even more than that.’ Meng Yao didn’t respond. His lower lip was trembling slightly. ‘Was that not true?’

‘I didn’t…’ Meng Yao pressed his hand to his lips when the rest of his sentence got uprooted by a sob.

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Lan Xichen. ‘I didn’t know.’ He meant every word. When the first tear streaked Meng Yao’s face, he felt his heart break for him.

Mingjue. You idiot.

He reached out, carefully, and placed a hand at the other man’s knee. If Meng Yao wanted to swat his hand away, run out or yell at him, he’d be willing to take it. Perhaps he even deserved it, somewhat. But Meng Yao didn’t. The man just sat in complete silence, and wept.

After a few quiet minutes, Meng Yao reached for the glass of water, gulped half of it down, put the glass back on the table and rose, wiping his cheeks.

‘Thank you,’ he said, his voice hoarse. ‘Thank you for telling me.’

‘You’re welcome,’ said Lan Xichen. ‘I truly am sorry. I wish...’ I wish we didn’t meet this way .

Meng Yao nodded. ‘Me too.’

He left with his back straight and his head held high. Lan Xichen remained sitting at the kitchen table for a few more moments before digging up his cell phone from his pocket and sending Mingjue a message.

Lan Xichen: We need to talk. Before dinner. Can you come to Pan?

Chapter Text

‘Are you sure?’

‘Mn.’

‘I mean like: sure-sure?’

‘Am certain, Wei Ying.’

‘I mean, I’d love to, of course. But I really wouldn’t want for us to go too fast. Like, last time it didn’t go so well, and I would hate to be the cause of something like… well, you know.’

‘Won’t happen again. We know better, now.’

‘I know, but… Just so you know, we really don’t have to. I’d be perfectly happy to just take it slow.

‘Wei Ying...’

‘Or we could ask Nie Huaisang if we can come over to their place, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind joining us...’

Lan Wangji closed his eyes a moment, sighed out, then pressed two of his fingers to Wei Ying’s lips and looked him dead in the eye. It was the only way he knew to make Wei Ying fall silent, and it always worked, like a charm. Wei Ying’s gust of words halted and his big eyes blinked at him.

‘M’okay,’ he muttered against Wangji’s fingers. ‘Shutting up now.’

Slowly, Lan Wangji lowered his hand. ‘Have taken my time, and I want it. Am certain.’

‘Well, okay then.’ Wei Ying put his hands in the pockets of his jeans. ‘Do we need to err… establish rules, or something? Should I bring something?’

‘No need.’

‘Are you sure?’ Wangji opened his mouth and Wei Ying raised his hands in defence. ‘I mean, about the rules. It’s just that your brother told me your house is your safe space, and I really don’t want to do anything to make your house feel unsafe or unpleasant for you, or something.’

‘I have no list of house rules.’

‘No? Well...’ Wei Ying scratched his head, awkwardly. ‘Still. Could you like, outline me some things of what I can and cannot do?’

‘Wei Ying wants a list of rules?’

‘If you don’t mind? I mean, of course I want to come over to your place. I’d love to. But I’m a little… apprehensive. Because of what happened, last time.’

Lan Wangji thought it over for some time. ‘Alright then. If that would make Wei Ying feel more comfortable, I’ll make him a list.’

He could see the relief take hold of Wei Ying’s face, and he smiled one of his happiest smiles. ‘Thank you, Wangji!’

Lan Wangji would do just about anything for one of those smiles.

And so he found himself opening his laptop, later that night, sitting in his reading chair, staring at a blank page. House rules. Of course he had some ideas of how he wanted things to transpire in his house, but he had never thought about confiding them to paper. Mostly because he had no idea what a normal household looked like.

He’d been born and raised among the cultivators of Cloud Recesses. His mother, who wasn’t a cultivator herself, had lived separately from the cultivators on the premises, in a nice house surrounded by gentian flowers. He’d lived with her until her death when he was but six years old, and at which time he and his brother were taken in by Uncle, who had never known anything but the life of a cultivator. Wangji himself had been young enough to adapt to a cultivator’s life fully at the time and never realized how unusual his upbringing was until he was sent to high school in Caiyi Town.

He only found out years later that his uncle had never intended for either of his nephews to join the local high school. All previous generations of Lan’s had been homeschooled and he’d hoped to do the same for Wangji and Xichen. But the local government insisted they follow a public education like any other teenager, and had even gone so far as to threaten the revered Gusu-Lan with heavy sanctions - severe enough that they might endanger the existence of the whole sect. And so, reluctantly, Uncle sent twelve year old Wangji and fifteen year old Xichen to Biling Park Public High School.

To Xichen, it was mostly exciting. He heartily took to the opportunity to mingle with people his own age, and he was accepted into their midst without much difficulty. Some of the more impetuous kids tried him out, quickly found that he was not bullying-material, and moved on.

But to Wangji, it was a shock, to say the least. Not only were the other children loud and brash, but most of them were not even inclined to learning. They did not respect their elders, nor did they naturally keep silent during classes. They did not rise at five in the morning and go to sleep at nine; they did not meditate for hours on end or rigorously exercise their bodies to reach peak physical fitness. They did not remain silent during meals, most of them favoured the consumption of meat and everybody was constantly touching.

It didn’t take long for Wangji to have his first mental breakdown. After that followed years of mandatory therapy; of transfers to other high schools; to schools for children with so called ‘special needs’. It wasn’t until a board of psychiatrists insisted that he was beyond help and urged that he be sent to a closed mental facility for adolescents – at age fifteen – that Uncle chose to disregard all professional advice, accept the risk of possible legal penalties, and let Lan Wangji be homeschooled again.

Back at Cloud Recesses, he thrived. Exceeded his peers, in fact: when he went back to Biling Park Public High School to partake in the State Exams, his scores where higher than those of anyone in the province and the local legislators no longer pushed for him to be sent back to public education. Nine months later, he came of age and the state had nothing more to say over him in that respect.

College was easier. Nobody cared if he didn’t participate in social gatherings: if he just wanted to sit at the front of the lecture hall, take his notes and go home straight after class, no-one would chide him. He generally got on well with teachers and lecturers and often asked for extra reading material. He even managed to work through most team assignments with classmates, apart from the periodic argument here and there.

He’d been bullied relentlessly. He’d gotten into quarrels and fights on various occasions on his various high schools, he was made fun of because of his way of speaking, his habit of dressing, his mannerisms. Even in college. If it hadn’t been for the endless love, confidence and understanding his brother had showered him with, he might have given up on all of it a long time ago. He would never have ended up where he was now: in a good place, doing things he enjoyed or even loved, self-reliant and self-assured.

Without Xichen, there would not be a Wangji.

Was Xichen even aware of all the things he’d done for his brother?

Wangji stared at his laptop. The formerly steaming cup of Milky Oolong tea, his favourite evening beverage, turned cold on the side-table.

L an Wangji: Ge-ge. Are you awake?

Lan Xichen: I am. How come you are?

Lan Wangji: I have some questions.

Lan Xichen: Want me to come over?

Lan Wangji: N o need. I just wondered. What are my house rules?

Lan Xichen: ?

Lan Wangji: I invited Wei Ying over. He asked for a list of house rules. I cannot seem to formulate them.

Lan Xichen: You prefer when people do not touch items that don’t need to be touch. You want them to leave their shoes and coat at the door. Put things back where they found them and not put their feet up on the coffee table...

The list went on. Every sentence Lan Xichen typed, was like a bubble of air breaking through a surface of liquid to Wangji’s mind. He practically copied all of it, word for word, and after about half an hour, he had about ninety requests and prescriptions.

Lan Wangji: Thank you. Brother has been an amazing help.

Lan Xichen: Anytime.

Lan Wangji: Do I thank you enough?

Lan Xichen: So, Wei Ying is coming over? How exciting!

Lan Wangji blinked at his phone.

Lan Wangji: Good night, brother.

Lan Xichen: (:

Lan Xichen: Sweet dreams, di-di.

Chapter Text

Nie Huaisang waited for their brother and Lan Xichen to leave together after dinner, then turned to Wei Ying.

‘Please tell me you noticed that too?’ they asked.

Wei Ying nodded, he knew exactly what they meant. Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen had been acting nothing but cordial to one another all evening, and that was exactly the thing. They were cordial. Attentive, polite. Not that the two of them were usually sappy: they did normal couple things. They touched, held hands. Exchanged small kisses. Nothing out of the ordinary. But the fact that all of it was missing its usual warmth was…

Wei Ying realised that in the language of Lan Xichen, this was the equivalent of giving someone the cold shoulder or the silent treatment. Or both.

‘Oh heavens, I was so happy they were back together,’ Huaisang moaned. ‘I hope they don’t break up again...’

‘Was it bad, the last time?’

‘Worse. Like a dying flame.’ Wei Ying looks at them with a question in his eyes. ‘Slow. Agonizingly slow. Mingjue just couldn’t believe it was ever really over. Even when Xichen moved on and started telling Mingjue about his new flames – oh man. He’d just sit silently and listen and tell Xichen how happy he was for him and when he had left he would just bawl his eyes out. He just kept hoping Xichen would come back to him, for years and years.’

‘And Xichen didn’t realise? He’s usually really good at reading people!’

‘No, that’s the thing; he knew. I mean, not that Mingjue would cry himself to sleep just about every time after he visited, obviously. But he said it himself once, after a party. Mingjue had passed out in a chair and Xichen was looking at him and he said to me: he never stopped loving me, did he? And I told him: nope, he would get back together with you like that.’ Huaisang snapped their fingers. ‘And Xichen was like: yeah, I know. And that was it.’

‘But did he like, know-know, though?’

‘What do you mean, know-know?’

‘Well, there’s like ‘knowing’ and knowing .’ It was Huaisang’s time to look confused. ‘It’s just… sometimes I look at Wangji and I think he knows something, but then he just doesn’t know it, you know?’

‘You are making zero sense to me, mate.’

Wei Ying bit his lower lip. ‘Like: as if he knows it in theory , but not practically. And not just in theory, but like: he could write the book on it. The Big Book of How This Thing Works. But when it’s in front of him? Totally oblivious.’

‘Hm. Strangely, I think I see what you mean.’

‘Right? And sometimes I wonder if Lan Xichen is the same, only different. Like: he has done is all, seen it all, worked through it all in a hundred-thousand ways. But if someone were to ask him to write the book about it, he would draw a blank. Complete vacuum. Like a virgin in an orgy.’

‘Oh no, don’t give me that mental image…!’

Wei Ying grinned. ‘Sorry.’

‘No you’re not! Ew.’ Nie Huaisang buried their face in a pillow, making some horrifying gurgling noises. Wei Ying snickered.

‘Oh, come on, A-Sang. If I had to guess which one person I knew had actually attended an orgy, I would pick you.’

Huaisang raised their head from the pillow and stared at him. ‘Why would you say such a thing?’

‘Because it’s what you would do. And you would never ever bring it up except at some extremely random moment, and then tell us not to gawk at you because ‘orgies aren’t weird, lots of people do it’!’

‘You suspect I would want to take part in an orgy, Wei Ying?’

‘I said attend , not partake. I would actually expect you to sit at the side line, sipping a cocktail and watching it all go down just so you would know what it’s like. I don’t know, for future reference or something.’

‘Hmnpf.’

‘Oh, don’t you say you wouldn’t. For what it’s worth: if I ever murdered someone and needed a friend to help me get rid of the body, I’d come running to you too. Not just because you’re my best friend, but because I totally expect you to know how to make a solution out of toothpaste and toilet cleaner that’ll dissolve a body in under ten minutes.’

Nie Huaisang chuckled. ‘Okay, fair enough. But you would also come to me because I’m your best friend right?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Okay then, I forgive you your orgy-comment.’

Wei Ying shook his head. ‘But anyway. I hope it’s just temporary for your brother and Xichen. I also really like them together. They just kind of… feel right? Or something?’

‘Yeah.’ Nie Huaisang sighed. ‘I know.’

The next morning, Wei Ying found he had received an e-mail from Lan Wangji, titled ‘House Rules’. It contained an attachment with over a hundred numbered items.

‘Holy macarons,’ he muttered and skipped through them. Some of them seemed like sound practical advice, such as Do not work after 9 pm or Don’t be late and Do not enter without permission . Others he interpreted as things that might be annoying to Lan Wangji, such as Do not wear any jangling objects like bead s or Do not say one thing and mean another or Do not be supercilious. Wei Ying had to go look that word up. Oh. Condescending.

But others just seemed straight out of the Monk Handbook. How else was he going to interpret Accumulate virtue and merits or Do not befriend the evil or Take pity on the desolate?

Then there were some that outright puzzled him. Do not talk during meals. Did Wangji mean ‘don’t talk with your mouth full’? Because Wei Ying ate and talked all day long: all you had to do was add breathing and you had defined his three most prominent activities.

He showered – Always change clothes after you wash was a rule too – and stepped into the living room, where Nie Huaisang was enjoying a bowl of cereal.

‘Morning, cake wizard.’

‘Morning, gorgeous.’ He knew calling them that always made Nie Huaisang smile. ‘Pass me the O’s.’

They did. ‘You’re looking puzzled?’

‘I should have done more homework.’ Wei Ying fixed himself a bowl with three different types of cereal – or what Huaisang referred to as a balanced breakfast.

‘I’m guessing this has nothing to do with culinary school?’

‘You’d be correct.’ Wei Ying sighed out. ‘A-Sang, what do you know about cultivators?’

‘You mean the Gusu-lot?’ Wei Ying nodded. ‘Oh, they’re old-school. They put the rad in traditional, if you know what I mean.’

‘I don’t, that’s kind of the point. Can you tell me?’

Huaisang scratched their head. ‘Honestly, I’m no expert. I only know what they told me about cultivation in high school and the rest is gossip and what Xichen let loose, which isn’t a lot , frankly.’

‘Is that because they’re secretive?’

‘Not by design, I think, no. But what with the wars and the revolution and all the other shit that went down in the last hundred years, they didn’t get out of that unscathed exactly. It’s a miracle they still exist.’

‘How come they do still exist?’ Wei Ying added milk to his bowl.

‘Probably to do with the fact that they’re one of the oldest families in the country. They have the family tree and the history text books to back them up: the Gusu-Lan have so much history they could built their own museum and they have the money to do it too. And I suspect – but I can only suspect – that they had some favourable contacts during the revolution, or they just paid a ton of money to be left alone.’

Wei Ying thought about that. ‘Any reason for your suspicions?’

‘Well… I mean, I honestly don’t know much about their doctrines or anything – but I have heard Xichen say that the sect favours the teachings of the Three Treasures above the doctrine of Wu-wei.’ Wei Ying gave them a look as if they’d started to speak Martian. ‘As in: they prefer to act with compassion, moderation and humility than to not-act for the sake of preserving the harmony of the universe. Which to me says they aren’t above some light scheming in order to preserve their own existence.’ Nie Huaisang shrugged. ‘And also: you can say what you like about Xichen and Wangji, but they’re not the kind of people that would go down without a fight.’

‘I guess I can see what you mean there.’ Neither of the Lan brothers had partaken in the fight against the Wen’s, but the whole existence of Pan could be read as an act of defiance, and when Wei Ying had asked Wangji if they should worry about the café getting in trouble, he had assured him not to worry about it with absolute certainty. He didn’t doubt there were some strings the family could still pull.

‘They also practise inner alchemy and healing-through-music is a huge cornerstone within the sect,’ Huaisang continued. ‘Hence Wangji’s scholarly pursuits. Other than that, I just know they follow an actual fuckton of rules.’

‘Ah,’ said Wei Ying.

‘I mean, I’ve known Lan Xichen since he was a teenager. He’d come over sometimes and he would be wowed that we ate meat, or that we didn’t get up at some ridiculously early hour, or he would say something like: ‘Do not stand incorrectly, Huaisang’, or ‘Have courtesy and integrity’. He stopped doing that after the first couple of years, thank goodness.’

Wei Ying was glad the manner in which Lan Wangji had written down his rules was apparently how he’d been brought up with them: to the point and, well, frankly sounding rather authoritarian. He also felt a pang of sorry, for Wangji and Xichen both. He used to think that Madam Yu was a pain when it came to setting impossible standards and being a hard-liner, but this Gusu-Lan sect made even her sound lenient.

‘Thanks A-Sang. I think I have some info to chew on,’ Wei Ying muttered, and stuffed his face with a mix of honey, cocoa and rainbow cereal.

Chapter Text

Lan Xichen could never stay mad at anyone for long. He was quite sure that that had more to do with his character then with his upbringing : despite the fact that the teachings of the Gusu-Lan instructed the disciples to be kind, forgiving and compassionate, he was well aware of his young brother’s talent for holding grudges. And how h e resembled Uncle in that.

But Lan Xichen had an inclination towards perceiving rather than judging, and when Mingjue confessed he’d not actually broken up with Meng Yao, instead attempting to let the relationship slowly die out so he didn’t have to face the hardships of ending a relationship, he understood why. Breaking another’s heart was hard, even if it was the honest thing to do, and to break the heart of a man who looked as delicate as Meng Yao… He wasn’t sure he’d be capable of that either.

So he’d held Mingjue close as the other man wept and by the next morning, he had practically forgiven him. Except that Meng Yao did not leave him alone. Whenever he found himself lost in thought, it usually had something to do with dimples, with a graceful left turn, and large brown eyes.

Late that Friday afternoon, while he was busy making inventory so he could send his order for the upcoming week to Wangji, he heard a set of hasty footsteps and his voice being called. He raised himself – he’d been knelt in front of one of the fridges to count the bottles of kombucha left in stock – and saw that it was Meng Yao. He looked angry, eyes sparking.

‘ We need to talk,’ the smaller man said. ‘You, me. Now.’

Next to him, Xiao Xingchen blinked in utter bewilderment, but Lan Xichen cleared his throat and said to his colleague: ‘I’ll be right back.’ He put his notepad and pencil down and gestured at Meng Yao to follow him to the back. Just like earlier, he expected to find the greatest amount of privacy in the kitchen, so he held one of the doors open for Meng Yao to enter. Wei Ying had gone home earlier that afternoon and had left the kitchen spic-and-span.

‘Can I...’ Lan Xichen started.

‘I’ve spoken to Mingjue,’ Meng Yao interrupted him. ‘He told me about you. Of how he has loved you since you were teenagers, and that he could never give you up, even if he tried. Because he has tried.’ The hand by his side turned to a fist. ‘He said that what we had was real, was sincere, but that he could not resist when you asked for him to come back. He said he knows he cannot leave you...’ There was a ragged edge to that sentence. ‘He cannot leave you unless you leave him first .’

Lan Xichen felt like he got jabbed in the throat: a sharp punch that made him reach for air. Was that why Meng Yao was here? To ask him to break up with Mingjue so that the two of them could get back together?

No. That was not…

‘I have told him I would fight for him,’ Meng Yao continued. He took a step closer to Lan Xichen, his one hand trembling with thinly-veiled anger. ‘And I meant it. But I know it’s no use.’ The resentment in his voice and the fire in his eyes became doused by a fog of sorrow. ‘Look at you. You’re Lan Xichen, heir of the Gusu-Lan sect. You’re rich, you’re resourceful. And you had to have the guts to be goddamn beautiful too.’ Meng Yao swallowed hard, and so did Lan Xichen. ‘So I’ve decided to fight you in the only way I know how...’

He reached out and for a moment Lan Xichen thought the smaller man was actually going to try and punch him, so he leaned out of the way. But Meng Yao did n o t punch: he grabbed hold of Lan Xichen’s hair and with a sharp tug pulled his head down to level with hi s , then pressed his lips onto those of the other man. Xichen felt his knees go weak by equal parts surprise and want, and Meng Yao used that to his advantage by prying his lips apart and immediately dipping his tongue into the heat of Xichen’s mouth. The hand released his hair only to grab his face instead, and hell: Meng Yao had a tight grip. His fingertips pressed hard enough to leave bruises behind Xichen’s ear .

Just when Lan Xichen wanted to lean into the singeing kiss, Meng Yao let him go, catching him with his palm spread against Xichen’s chest when he stumbled forward a bit. Lan Xichen stared at the other man and saw a satisfied grin spread over Meng Yao’s face.

‘This is my offer,’ he said, and he gave Xichen a little push, then wiped his lips with his fingers in a gesture so sensual it made the blood drain from Xichen’s face and pool between his legs instead. ‘Think about it. And if you’re interested, give me a call.’

Lan Xichen still hadn’t reclaimed the capacity to speak when Meng Yao straightened his clothes and walked past him, and out of the kitchen. Only when he heard the door between the café floor and the hallway clunk, did Xichen turn on his heels and dart after him.

‘Meng Yao,’ he called after the man, not caring who in the café paid attention or not. ‘I don’t have your number.’

The man turned and smiled slyly. ‘I know. You’ll have to ask Mingjue.’

The remark sank into X ichen’s gut like a stone. Meng Yao audaciously kissed his fingertips, waved at Xichen, and walked out of Pan.

He was grateful Meng Yao had decided to pull his stunt during the final hours, and that he was able to close the café shortly after. He r efrained from explaining what had happened to Xiao Xingchen, who was kind enough not to ask questions, and Xichen was ever so grateful for the fact that he, just like any other b arista at Pan’s, wore a wrap-around apron over his trousers, which had shielded him from being further embarrassed in front of his staff-member and patrons. By the time the few remaining visitors had left, Xichen seriously contemplated sending Xiao Xingchen home just so he could go in the back and have a quick wank in the reassuring privacy of his storage room.

But he didn’t. They cleaned up together, like on any normal day, and Xichen walked Xiao Xingchen to the bus stop before heading home himself. He dug his phone up from his pocket and phoned Mingjue.

‘Da-ge.’

‘ Hey .’

‘Are you still at work?’

‘ I’m at the elevator.’ M ingjue sound ed curious. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘I am honestly not certain. Would you mind if I send our apologies to Huaisang and Wei Ying and we have dinner at my place tonight? There is something I must discuss with you.’

‘Alright.’ He pause d . ‘Why do I feel like I’m in trouble?’

‘Is there a reason you should be in trouble?’ It came out sharper than Xichen had intended and all of a sudden, he hear d a trace of his uncle in his own voice.

‘I don’t think so.’

‘We’ll discuss it when you’re home.’ Why d id he feel like a parent scorning his teenage kid all of a sudden? ‘I’ll pick up something for dinner. Just… hurry, alright?’

‘Alright. I’ll see you in a bit, Xichen.’

‘Thank you.’ He paused. ‘I love you, Mingjue. Bye.’

About forty-five minutes later, while he was preparing a simple broccoli fried-rice in the kitchen, Nie Mingjue came home. Xichen heard the other man’s keys jingle in the bowl by the coat rack and said half-loud: ‘I’m cooking,’ so Mingjue would know where to find him. The larger man entered, made sure to check Xichen’s fingers were nowhere near the kitchen knife – Mingjue had once surprised him whilst Xichen was in the process of slicing tofu and it was one of the few times in Xichen’s life when he had actually cursed out loud – then wrapped his arms around Xichen’s chest.

‘Hey,’ he whispered in Xichen’s ear. ‘Are you alright?’

Xichen didn’t answer right away. He gently nudged Mingjue to step away, then washed his hands by the sink before turning around and leaning back against the counter. Mingjue looked worried and Xichen wasn’t sure the other man deserved it. He wasn’t entirely sure he didn’t either.

‘Meng Yao came by,’ he said, trying to sound neutral. ‘At work. Again.’

Mingjue’s eyes went wide. ‘Oh fuck,’ he stammered. ‘Was he mad?’

‘He was very upset, but restraint enough not to make a scene. Not in public, that is.’ Xichen cleared his throat. ‘He asked to speak to me in private and informed me that you and he had talked. He said you told him you’ve been in love with me since high school and that you never got over me. Even though you tried to.’

Mingjue looked uneasy. ‘I did tell him that. No more, though.’

‘And that, now that you and I are together again, you will not leave me for him.’

‘Never, Xichen.’ It was barely a whisper.

‘He said he was willing to fight me for you.’ Xichen paused. ‘And then he proceeded to kiss me.’

Mingjue’s j aw succumbed to gravity.

‘That was my response, exactly.’ Xichen folded his arms. ‘I will admit I was… enticed.’

‘I’m sorry, w ait up ,’ Mingjue said, and brought a hand up to brush his brow. ‘He… he kissed you? Meng Yao kissed you?’

‘In Pan’s kitchen. He said he wanted to fight me over you, but that he knew it was a fight he could never win. So instead, he kissed me and called it an offer . Told me to think about it and to give him a call if I were interested.’

‘Interested in what?’

‘I’m not sure.’

Mingjue blinked. ‘Holy...’

‘Language, Mingjue, please.’ Xichen didn’t mind an off-handed sentence enhancer here and there, but he drew the line at blasphemy.

The larger man took a deep breath. ‘ What do you want to do ?’

‘I think I want us to have a meal and then I think we should call him. Ask him to discuss with us what it is he is offering.’

‘Wait, hang on. Shouldn’t we discuss this first?’

‘I want to, but I don’t know what this is.’

‘It sounds like either he was trying to get together with you to punish me , or...’

‘Or…?’

‘To get together with the both of us?’

The silence was thick between the two of them.

‘Well, I hope you know full well that I would not be inclined to follow-up on the former,’ said Lan Xichen, finally. ‘I will say Meng Yao is attractive, but… you know. Past mistakes have... ’ Mingjue’s sigh of relief made him chop off his sentence. ‘Do not tell me you did not expect me to say that.’

‘I didn’t expect you to, but I am still glad to hear you say it.’

‘Mingjue. I promise you I’m staying safe.’

'I… I know. And I’m glad you are. But, you know. ’ He cleared his throat and Lan Xichen could see the anticipation on the other man’s face. ‘I mean, if he suggested sharing?’

‘Me sharing you? With someone else?’ Lan Xichen made a sound. ‘I’m not sure. Is that something you would want?’

‘If it meant having to split my time between the two of you, no. I mean, just practically speaking, I know I couldn’t. I can barely balance my work, my relationship and my family, let alone have another relationship on the side. But I trust Meng Yao. And you, and me, and he...’

‘Both of us? At the same time?’ For a second Xichen pictured himself pinned between Nie Mingjue and Meng Yao and he immediately felt a stirring in his gut. ‘I… oh.’

‘Oh?’

‘I mean, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.’ L an Xichen turned to turn on the stove, but more-so to hide the swift blush creeping up his ears than to cook . ‘We’ll make the call after dinner.’

‘Xichen.’ Mingjue’s hands folded themselves over his shoulders and he felt the other man press against his back. ‘You said you were enticed…?’

‘I thought you weren’t listening.’

‘I was.’ Mingjue nuzzled his neck. ‘I also heard you say you loved me on the phone.’

Xichen dropped t he spatula on the floor.

By some miracle they managed to have dinner, then sat huddled on Xichen’s couch together toying with Mingjue’s phone like two nervous teenagers. Finally, Mingjue dialed the number and they waited for Meng Yao to pick up, the cell phone turned onto speaker mode.

‘Mingjue,’ said the other man’s voice on the phone. ‘Does this mean you’ve gotten my message?’

For a moment, Xichen and Mingjue exchanged a look. Xichen leaned in and said: ‘I wasn’t aware I was supposed to be a messenger.’

Meng Yao chuckled. ‘Of course you were.’

Xichen licked his lips. ‘Your message has us a bit perplexed. What exactly is it that you wish to offer us, Meng Yao?’

‘I thought you received my message loud and clear.’

‘Meng Yao,’ Mingjue grumbled. ‘No teasing, please.’

‘Very well then.’ Xichen could just see the man in his mind’s eye, propping himself up in his seat and smiling that deviously delectable smile. ‘If I can’t have you for myself, Mingjue, I want to join you.’

‘Join me,’ said Mingjue.

‘Join us,’ said Xichen.

‘Both of you. Yes.’

The silence was thick. Mingjue looked at him from aside, but Xichen couldn’t keep his eyes of the phone. That sounded too good to be true.

‘Hello?’

‘I think you broke him,’ said Mingjue. That caused Meng Yao to chuckle on the other side of the line.

‘So he’s not just charming, good-looking, wealthy and intelligent, but innocent too?’

‘Oh, he’s not that innocent...’

‘Mingjue!’ Lan Xichen hissed. Then he turned back to Meng Yao on the phone. ‘If you are sincere, I think we should discuss this in person. Between the three of us.’

‘Good idea. Are you two at your place?’

Xichen shot Mingjue a look. Mingjue answered: ‘Xichen’s house, yes.’

‘I can be there in twenty minutes.’

Mingjue looked at Xichen, as if to say: It’s your call. He didn’t need time to reconsider.

‘What’s your beverage of choice?’ asked Xichen.

Chapter Text

Wei Ying double-checked the time on his phone. Seven twenty-seven. Was he really supposed to just stand here and look at Lan Wangji’s door for the next three minutes? He recalled the list of the Hundred Commandments and decided that, even if it wasn’t listed as an actual rule, he should probably try and be as punctual as possible.

It’s not about the stupid rules , he told himself. It’s about safety and about respecting his way of life.

The more he unravelled about Lan W angji, the more he began to appreciate him. The other man was so different from anyone Wei Ying had ever met. Like his brother, he was exceptionally kind, but unlike him, he was also guarded. And despite being kind, Wei Ying was beginning to suspect that Lan Wangji wasn’t all that nice . He didn’t care about making someone else feel comfortable around him – that wasn’t his priority. He didn’t conform to others, he demanded people take him for who he was; not by bossing others around or forcing his presence upon them – because that would be unkind – but simply by not budging. He was like a rock embedded in a river; too inflexible to move and with no intention to do so, but in no way interrupting the flow of water around him either . And maybe he was right in that, Wei Ying thought, in silently yet urgently claiming his own space. Because nobody would be able to deny that Lan Wangji was a gem, and well worth whatever needs he insisted on.

So he waited, the longest few minutes of his life, and rang the doorbell the second the digital clock switched from seven twenty-nine to seven-thirty. It took Wangji a few more moments to open the door.

‘Welcome, Wei Ying,’ he said, opening his door wide for him. ‘Come in.’

‘Thank you, Lan Wangji.’ He stepped inside – made sure to wipe his shoes on the doormat – and took off his coat and shoes, placing them diligently on the shoe rack.

‘Would Wei Ying like some tea?’

‘I’d love that, thank you.’

‘Any preference?’

‘I trust your judgement.’ He did. Wei Ying wasn’t a refined tea drinker: coffee was more his jam. While Lan Wangji prepared the tea in the kitchen, Wei Ying took some time to look around the apartment. He’d seen it before, of course, during his first visit, but back then he didn’t exactly have time to take it in properly. And Lan Wangji’s apartment was pretty interesting.

M ost bachelors Wei Ying kn e w – the men especially – didn’t favour much colour in their ho m es. They kept t hings muted, preferring to stick to white, black and wood patterns and add ing maybe one pop of colour here and there. It made it easier to m ake things match and made a house look functional and modern.

Lan Wangji – as could be expected – did not fall into that category. His house looked meticulous and practical, but it also burst with colour. The wall to Wei Ying’s left was painted in shades of emerald green and was half obscured by three mahogany bookcases with leafy plants on top of them. Next to them stood a sumptuous canary yellow reading chair with a matching foot stool, and a small side table with a large turquoise pot, housing a white orchid. The couch opposite the bookcases and the reading chair was white, covered with a blue throw and several pillows in all sorts of colours, but predominantly green, blue and yellow , and a wooden coffee table stood in between the couch and reading area.

The dinner table and chairs in the middle of the living room were white, just like Lan Wangji’s desk, right from the centre of the room, but the large rug underneath had the colour of eggplants. The wall on Wei Ying’s far right contained a mural of a pink cherry blossom tree against a turquoise surface, and harboured two doors: one white, the other purple. The third door, between the desk and the mural, was bright pink.

None of the paintings or decorations seemed to conform to a joined theme. There were all sorts of trinkets in the living room but none of them looked like they’d been placed there thoughtlessly: each object had it’s own little space, it’s own focal point. The delicate little vase with peony flowers at the window sill, a sculpture of halcyon bird proudly perched at the corner of the desk. A tiny, rectangular object was mounted in a glass box on the wall. Wei Ying lifted himself on his toes and saw that it was a flute of some kind.

‘Do you like it?’ Lan Wangji asked. He placed a serving tray on the coffee table and knelt down, putting down cups and an ancient looking copper teapot. One of the cups was lilac, the other green. They obviously didn’t match.

‘I do,’ said Wei Ying, pensively.

‘But?’

‘I don’t know, it’s puzzling. I think, normally, I would expect a house to look messy, with this much colour and so many pictures on the wall and all these… ornaments. But somehow it all just… works?’

‘Brother says I have created harmony in my home.’

‘That’s it! It harmonizes. It vibes!’

‘Mn. Am glad Wei Ying sees it that way.’

‘I am a bit curious, though. Your brother said you play all these instruments.’ Wei Ying pointed at the small flute. Where’s the rest?’

‘In my study. Purple door.’

‘May I?’ Lan Wangji nodded and accompanied him. Wei Ying opened the door and felt his mouth drop.

‘Holy macarons! You have enough to accommodate an orchestra! Do you play all of these?’

‘To varying degrees.’

‘That is wild.’

‘Mn. Once one learns the basics, it becomes easier to expand one’s repertoire.’

Wei Ying looked in awe at the white piano, the wall-mounted rack with a variety of bamboo flutes, the guqin on the low table. Some smaller instruments were placed on shelves behind the guqin : cymbals, an ocarina, drums, shells and bells. Suspended on one wall hung a whole collection of Chinese lutes, accompanied by a violin and a banjo, and a guitar, erhu and dihu were placed i n separate stands on the floor. ‘Is there anything you don’t play?’

‘Reed instruments,’ Lan Wangji said, immediately. ‘Took lessons learning to play the sheng, but cannot seem to get it right. Got rid of it eventually, irked me too much. Am also not a lover of percussion.’

Wei Ying laughed. He somehow couldn’t imagine Lan Wangji behind a drum kit. ‘It’s amazing. Do you have a preference?’

‘Mn. I much favour the guqin. Piano, too. Was the first instrument I bought myself, after moving to Caiyi. Sparked my interest in Western music. Began expanding towards flutes, lutes, and now strings.’ He nodded at the violin. ‘My latest addition. Like to compare it to the sound of the erhu.’

‘Do you just teach yourself how to play?’

‘No, I take lessons. It’s important to learn how to place your hands and fingers, so as not to damage the instruments – or your tendons. Once I have the basics under control, I advance on my own.’

‘Do you ever play for people?’

‘Mn. Only for cultivation.’

‘Why is that?’

‘Don’t like being on a stage.’

‘Would you play for me?’ Wei Ying pleaded.

‘Some time. Perhaps.’

‘Aw, why not now?’

‘Because we have tea,’ Lan Wangji said gently. ‘And it’s getting cold.’

Wei Ying pouted, but only in jest. He knew he was already enjoying a privilege, being shown around Lan Wangji’s house. ‘Alright then,’ he said, trailing after Lan Wangji. ‘But tell me, what is so special about that flute that you’ve singled it out?’ He pointed at the one in the glass cabinet.

‘That is a gudi, or bone flute,’ said Lan Wangji.

‘Made of real bone, you mean?’

‘Mn. From a red-crowned crane. From the neolithic era. Between eight and nine thousand years old.’

Wei Ying looked at him incredulously. ‘You’re joking!’

Lan Wangji smiled – beamed, in terms of his body language. Picked up a chair from the dining table and placed it underneath the glass cabinet, then reached inside to take the artefact out. Wei Ying was temporarily distracted when Wangji’s formidable ass came in to full view, and he took the most out of those few heartbeats to admire the curve of the other man’s backside. Then a little voice reminded him that the Lan Wangji’s cock too was only inches away from his mouth, and he had to avert his gaze.

Okay, wow, stop! Rewind!

He cleared his throat and tried to focus on the bone flute, carefully b eing held between Lan Wangji’s fingers. Wei Ying didn’t need an instruction to tell him that he wasn’t supposed to touch, that this object was one hundred percent off-limits. He could see tiny hair fractures all across the surface of the bone and a few small pieces were missing, notably between the second and third finger hole.

‘It’s beautiful! How on earth did you come by it?’

‘Excavated in a tomb in Jiahu, Henan province. Most ended up in museums, especially the intact ones. This one was in pieces, that’s how I obtained it.’

‘Lan Wangji, don’t tell me you put this little thing back together all by yourself?’

‘No, Wei Ying. Found a watchmaker to do it for me.’ He allowed Wei Ying to admire the flute from all sides before putting it back in it’s little glass box, then herded him back to the couch.

‘I brought us a treat, by the way. Just something small. Let me get it.’ Wei Ying took a little package out of his backpack and placed it on the coffee table, between the cups of tea Lan Wangji poured for them. ‘Almond cookies. I had to make a try-out batch, so.’

‘Wei Ying never made almond cookies before?’

‘I have, but never without using eggs. I made them for Trevor’s wife – you know him, right? He owns the store across the street and he always drops in for lunch whenever he’s working?’

‘I believe my brother considers him a friend, yes.’

‘Well, it turns out his wife, Shonna, has this enormous craving for almond cookies right now, so Lan Xichen asked if I could make them a batch, as a gift of sorts. I think they turned out really well.’ To his surprise, Lan Wangji grabbed a cookie and shoved it between his teeth before settling on his own couch, legs folded under him in Lotus position, the lilac cup in his hands. He looked pensive while he chewed, like a judge at a baking contest.

‘It’s good,’ he said, finally. ‘But Wei Ying has added something unusual.’

‘Guilty as charged! I slipped in some orange juice. It kind of complements the bitterness of the almonds, right?’

‘Mn.’

Wei Ying grabbed a cookie for himself and mimicked Lan Wangji, sitting down on the couch facing his host, instead of sitting back against the backrest and facing the coffee table.

‘Lan Wangji?’ he asked. ‘Is this good? Are you comfortable with me here?’

Chapter Text

‘Lan Wangji, are you comfortable with me here?’

He was surprised by that question. Not because he didn’t expect Wei Ying to check with him, but because he realised that he was, in fact, quite comfortable. He checked himself for signs of stress and found none: no quickened heartbeat, his breath was located at his diaphragm instead of high in his chest, and calm. Tension was notably absent in his gut – indicating dismay or panic – and between his shoulder blades – a sign of strain.

He realised his lengthy silence must be alarming to Wei Ying, so he replied: ‘Yes. I am comfortable.’

The other man sighed in relief. ‘I’m glad! I mean, I didn’t think you were distressed, but I wanted to make sure.’

‘Thank you. I appreciate that.’ He paused, then added: ‘Want to thank Wei Ying for being understanding, and respecting house rules. I know it is unusual.’

‘Unusual is fine,’ said Wei Ying. ‘I like unusual.’

‘Mn.’ Hence your preference for incorporating unusual flavours in your baking, Lan Wangji wanted to say, but he refrained. Instead, he folded his hands around his teacup. ‘Tell me about Wei Ying’s day.’

‘Ah, well. I was surprised to receive your house rules this morning, and I read them a couple of times over during the day. I’ll admit I still have some questions, but it all became a bit easier once I realised it’s all about making you feel okay, and not like, disrupting your place. I know I can be disruptive.’

‘Wei Ying can be… passionate.’

‘Well, yes. But I don’t like running over people.’ Wei Ying paused. ‘I don’t like running over you.’

‘Takes more for me to be run over to kill me,’ said Lan Wangji.

Wei Ying stared at him. ‘How can you say things like that and sound so utterly serious?’

Lan Wangji didn’t reply, sampling his tea instead. ‘Wei Ying has questions about the rules?’

‘Err, yes. I couldn’t help but think some of them must have come from your home in Cloud Recesses, instead of coming from you. Thinks like ‘Care for the weak’ or ‘Rescue those in danger’.’

‘Mn. Wasn’t sure if those were worth adding.’

‘They sound more like philosophical goals than house rules.’

‘Mn.’

‘Is that what they teach at Cloud Recesses?’

‘Wei Ying never asked about Cloud Recesses.’

‘Oh, err. No. I found out through Xichen. And Nie Huaisang.’ Wei Ying looked guilty. ‘Do you mind? That I know, I mean?’

‘It’s not a secret.’

‘But you don’t exactly like to advertise it either, do you?’

‘Mn. No.’ He was silent for a bit, trying to gather the words to what he wanted to tell Wei Ying, and what not. ‘Cloud Recesses is part of another life. For me and brother both.’

‘Do you ever go back there?’

‘Every week. Sunday evening.’

‘Every week?’ Wei Ying huffed. ‘I wouldn’t say that’s part of another life, Wangji...’

‘We must stay connected.’ Lan Wangji realised it sounded like an apology. ‘We’ll be sect leaders some day.’

‘Do you want to?’

‘It is duty.’ Wei Ying said nothing. Lan Wangji could guess his thoughts. ‘Cloud Recesses is part of my blood,’ he said. ‘It’s my heritage. One day, I may return for good. If brother asks me to.’

‘You’d do anything for Xichen, wouldn’t you?’

‘Mn. Brother does anything for me too.’

Wei Ying heaved a sigh. ‘It must feel good to have such a strong bond with your brother. That you would do anything for one another.’

‘Wei Ying never speaks of his brother.’

‘I suppose there’s not so much to tell.’ Lan Wangji didn’t speak, and Wei Ying either didn’t seem to realise he was being coaxed into telling whatever there was to tell, or he didn’t mind. ‘Jiang Cheng takes after his mom,’ he said. ‘And I’ve already told you I don’t exactly have a good relationship with my adoptive mother.’

‘Mn.’

‘He’s just so damn insecure,’ Wei Ying grunted. ‘Yanli is the smart one in the family – that is, she’s the one with the degrees to prove it. That’s made it hard for him to live up to. And then there’s me, and for some reason he seems to think that just because people like me, they can’t also like him.’ He groaned. ‘I don’t know. There was a time when we did everything together. The three of us, I mean. We were inseparable. But then Yanli went to college and Jiang Cheng just… I don’t know.’ Wei Ying threw his hands up, almost spilling his tea. ‘I honestly don’t.’

‘Is Wei Ying still in touch with his family?’

‘Only with my sister. We’ve always stayed in touch. We call and we text all the time.’ He smiled pleasantly. ‘She applied for a job here in Caiyi. First things went very fast, but now she hasn’t heard from them in a while.’

‘Where did she apply?’

‘The… oh hell. IC something something something? Internation Children Adoption...’

‘International Child Welfare Arbitration Office.’

‘That’s the one.’

‘An important institution.’

‘So she tells me. It’s her dream to become an ambassador, to negotiate treaties for adoption and children’s welfare with other nations, especially big players like the EU and the UN.’

‘Then she must know Yu Jinzhu’s work.’

‘I think that’s the lady she’d be working for. Oh, Wangji, I feel like an awful brother now! You understand straight away and I can’t even remember the name of the job she’s applied for!’

Lan Wangji decided not to tell Wei Ying he knew Yu Jinzhu personally, as she had spent time studying at the Cloud Recesses. He merely sipped his tea and reached for another cookie. He usually never ate after dinner, but he felt like indulging himself now. Besides, the cookies were delicious.

‘You really must meet her, next time she comes over. Would you, Wangji, please?’

‘If that is what Wei Ying wants.’

Wei Ying smiled his widest smile and his hand landed on Lan Wangji’s knee. ‘Oh, I’d love that! I just know you’ll like her. And it’ll be nice for her to talk to someone who actually understands everything she says for a change...’

Lan Wangji was no longer hearing what Wei Ying said. He just blinked at Wei Ying’s hand on his knee, the warmth of his palm radiating through his trousers. He felt his breath deepening and despite recognizing that as a sign of discomfort, he did not want Wei Ying to withdraw his hand.

He did realize, however, some other uncomfortable reaction in his body. Almost as if Wei Ying’s bodily heat was redirected straight to Lan Wangji’s groin.

He shoved the remainder of the cookie between his teeth and grabbed a pillow to place it in his lap. There. Problem solved. He directed his attention towards Wei Ying’s words again, and found that he had changed subjects: somehow speaking of his sister had diverged him towards the subject of housing in Caiyi town.

‘… been looking around there, but I wasn’t exactly sure I wanted to live above a club. I mean, I like dancing, but I prefer my furniture to remain standing in place, you know?’ He laughed. ‘Would you like me to pour us a second cup, Wangji?’ Without waiting for a response, Wei Ying withdrew his hand and grabbed Lan Wangji’s cup, put it down on the coffee table and poured the tea for both of them. Lan Wangji hardly had time to mourn the loss, because he was already occupied by other thoughts.

Wei Ying likes to dance?

‘Here you go.’ Wei Ying handed him his cup back, folded his legs under him again. ‘Oh, am I rambling again?’ he said, apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, I’m such a fool...’

‘No,’ said Lan Wangji decidedly. ‘Wei Ying is no fool. And I like hearing Wei Ying talk.’

‘Oh, you flatter me, Wangji!’

Yes , he thought, keep calling me Wangji. I like that.

They’d agreed that Wei Ying wouldn’t stay too long, since neither of them knew how taxing this visit would be for Wangji. And so, reluctantly, he showed Wei Ying out at a few minutes to nine.

‘I had a really nice evening,’ said Wei Ying, shuffling on one leg to try and get his shoe on without untying his shoelaces. ‘I hope you did too.’

‘Mn. Was good having Wei Ying over.’

‘Will you be at Pan’s tomorrow? Oh wait, I forgot: Saturday...’

‘I will.’

‘You will?’

‘Mn. Like spending time with Wei Ying.’

‘Oh.’ The other man began to blush. ‘That’s… I do too!’

‘See Wei Ying tomorrow then.’

‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’ Wei Ying grabbed his coat. ‘I err… Thank you for the tea.’

‘Thank you for the cookies.’

They stared at one another for a few awkward seconds. Wei Ying finally averted his gaze and Lan Wangji found himself swallowing, hard. Then Wei Ying reached out and grabbed Lan Wangji’s wrist, squeezing him gently.

‘Sleep well, Wangji.’ He let go, grabbed his backpack and left, swift as a whirlwind all of a sudden.

Lan Wangji remained standing by the threshold for a few moments, before shutting the door and looking back towards the couch. His living area seemed strangely quiet now. Deserted, almost.

Wei Ying likes to dance .

He walked over to the coffee table to do way with the tea set.

Chapter Text

Meng Yao’s presence in his living room was equal parts satisfying and disruptive. The smaller man sat poised in a chair, his legs folded, chin raised and eyes sparkling. There could hardly be a greater contrast with Nie Mingjue, who sat back on the couch, manspreading, arms folded, and looking rather sour. Xichen placed a tea pot and two cups on the table, next to Mingjue’s half-empty glass of beer. He sat down next to Mingjue, placing a hand on Mingjue’s thigh – more so out of habit than because he wanted to show his dominance towards Meng Yao. He could tell from the way the other man’s eyebrows perked up that he had noticed.

Maybe it were best if they didn’t go head on into negotiations and try to break the ice a bit first. Xichen cleared his throat and said: ‘Meng Yao, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but I can’t help noticing the elegance of your posture...’

‘Mingjue didn’t tell you?’ The smaller man eyed the large one. ‘I was a dancer before I changed careers.’

‘A dancer?’

‘Hm. National ballet. Up till my twenty-third.’

‘I can’t say I’m really surprised. Why did you stop?’

Meng Yao’s smile was pleasant, but Xichen could see a hint of dejection in his eyes. ‘Can’t you tell?’ He nudged his head towards his left. ‘The arm. I wasn’t born like this, you know?’

‘He clearly doesn’t,’ Mingjue gruffed.

‘I’m terribly sorry,’ stammered Xichen. ‘I didn’t realise.’

‘I had an accident. After that, my balance was never the same. Plus, it’s a bit hard to perform lifts with only one arm. I was forced to quit.’

‘I’m very sorry to hear that.’

Meng Yao made a sound that didn’t indicate much. ‘I took some courses and applied for a job as a personal assistant. That’s how I ended up working for Mingjue.’

‘Do you like the work?’

‘I’d rather dance. But it’s not bad, I suppose.’ He eyed Mingjue. ‘Although it was better when I still had a good relationship with my employer.’

Alright. It seemed there was no dancing around this one. Xichen withdrew his hand and left it in his lap. ‘I’d rather not act as mediator between the two of you, but it seems we have little choice.’ He turned to Mingjue. ‘I think you owe Meng Yao an apology, Mingjue. I know you didn’t mean to crush his feelings, but it is unmistakeable that you did.’

‘I know.’ Mingjue sighed out long and hard, unfolded his arms and looked at Meng Yao. ‘I apologise, Meng Yao. And I am sorry, I mean it. I didn’t mean to hurt you.’

‘Then why are you so mad at me?’

‘I don’t like you going to Xichen behind my back.’

‘You didn’t exactly leave me much of a choice, did you?’

Mingjue bit something back. ‘I suppose not, no.’

‘Meng Yao,’ said Xichen, ‘I have every understanding for you being cross with Mingjue, but I suspect you know of his… inability to be frank when he knows it’ll hurt others. And the fact that he usually ends up hurting others regardless.’

‘Hey,’ said Mingjue.

‘I’m sorry, but it’s true.’

Meng Yao sighed out as well and unfolded his legs. ‘I know you are correct. And I also know that holding a grudge will get me nowhere.’ He looked at Mingjue, pleadingly. ‘Because I do want to get back together with you. And I’m willing to forgive you for what happened between us.’

Mingjue muttered: ‘So would I.’

Xichen eyed both men before slipping off the couch to kneel by the coffee table, and pouring the tea. He handed the other man a cup with his right hand, the left folded under the bottom of the cup, and Meng Yao accepted. Then he sat back onto the couch, cradling his own cup.

‘I think it’s time to discuss the terms, then,’ said Xichen. ‘Of what we want to share, and what not, if that is the case.’

‘Quite right.’ Meng Yao sampled the tea, then lowered the cup and sat back, crossing his legs again. ‘Have you been in a threesome before, Lan Xichen?’

Well, if that wasn’t direct and to the point. ‘Not a three-way relationship, no.’

‘But a threesome, you have?’

‘Yes. Once.’ Mingjue looked at him from aside, Xichen tried to ignore it.

‘If you don’t mind me saying, you don’t sound like you enjoyed it.’

‘I didn’t.’ Lan Xichen gave himself some respite by sipping his own drink. He supposed that if he was to build the bridge between Mingjue and Meng Yao, being a little more open about his past might just be the key to laying a foundation. Besides, it was not like he felt it was something to be embarrassed about. Learning from your mistakes was never something to be ashamed of. ‘I was invited to join in with a couple I’d been friends with for some time. It was a one-time-only experience for me, I declined to join them again.’

‘You didn’t like being with a lady?’

‘Oh, her sex was not the issue. I’d never reject someone based on their sex, although I do admit I’m usually drawn towards men.’ Xichen looked Meng Yao in the eyes. ‘I didn’t like being a third wheel. I want to feel like I have an equal part in the relationship, or it won’t work for me.’

‘I couldn’t agree more.’

‘Which means you want us to make room for you,’ said Mingjue.

‘If it’s not too much to ask for.’ Meng Yao sounded hurt.

‘It’s at least something we can try,’ said Xichen.

‘But we should be honest, to ourselves and to one another at all times, about what we do and do not like,’ said Mingjue. ‘Alright?’

‘Yes,’ said Xichen, and Meng Yao chimed in as well.

Satisfied, Xichen rose from the coach and stepped towards Meng Yao, holding out his hand. Meng Yao looked back at him, a question in his eyes. Xichen smiled and reached out for the teacup in the other man’s hand, took it from him and placed it on the table, then knelt down in front of him. ‘Since you and I do not know one another intimately yet, I was thinking that we should start.’ He looked back over his shoulder at Mingjue. ‘And see if Da-ge likes the idea of us together. It’s him we’re fighting over, after all.’

Meng Yao chuckled. ‘Fine by me.’ He extended a hand and brushed it through Xichen’s locks. ‘I love how long your hair is, by the way. It’s gorgeous. I’m sorry I pulled it, earlier.’

‘I’m not.’ Lan Xichen smiled at Meng Yao. ‘And I love your smile. It’s stunning. Especially your dimples...’ Meng Yao smiled for him, and Xichen let his finger brush the other man’s cheek. ‘May I kiss you?’

‘Oh dear. Are you going to ask for permission all of the time?’

‘I intend to, yes.’

‘Then you should know I don’t ask for permission. I take what I want.’

‘I’d gathered as much. And I don’t mind that, as long as I can say no.’

‘In that case...’ Meng Yao grabbed a handful of Lan Xichen’s hair and pulled his face close. ‘I want you to kiss me.’

Xichen could hear Mingjue shift on the couch behind him, and wondered what it was like to see two of his lovers together. Then he realised he might soon find that out for himself.

He leaned in and pressed his lips to Meng Yao’s. The other man was quick to open his mouth and press his tongue inside of Xichen’s. He made a little noise in the back of his throat – if Mingjue couldn’t see him, he might appreciate hearing him instead.

‘Fuck,’ he heard the larger man say behind him, and Xichen had to break free of the kiss when a laugh welled up in his throat.

‘I think we should punish him,’ said Meng Yao. ‘By letting him watch. What do you say?’

‘Mn, that’s a good way to start. But then I want us to be in full view.’ Xichen leaned back on his hind legs. ‘Would you like to sit on my lap?’

‘Hm, alright.’ They both rose and Meng Yao stepped out of the chair, to let Xichen take his place. ‘But you should know that just because I’m small, that doesn’t mean I’m automatically a zero.’

‘Good, because neither am I.’ Meng Yao sat down on Xichen’s lap, then made a half-turn so his legs dangled over the armrest. Xichen automatically put an arm around his back to support him. ‘Even if Mingjue may be a dedicated ‘one’, I can be either, depending on the situation.’

‘Hmm, you’re versatile. I like that.’

More like: eager to try almost anything to a fault, Xichen thought, but he refrained from saying that out loud. Instead, he leaned in and kissed Meng Yao again, allowing for the other man to dictate the tempo, since that was what he seemed to like. He eyed Mingjue on the couch and noticed the man’s cheeks flared, and that his loose-fitting trousers were already showing signs of arousal. He smiled and turned his attention back to Meng Yao and his sloppy kisses, started unbuttoning the other man’s blazer with his free hand. Meng Yao was clearly self-conscious about his missing limb, because he broke the kiss when Xichen tried to pull his jacket down from his shoulder, and swallowed hard.

‘Don’t be shy,’ whispered Xichen and let gentle kisses trail from Meng Yao’s lips to his chin, and down his neck to the collar of his shirt. ‘Tell me. Do you want me to touch you there, or not?’

‘Not specifically,’ said Meng Yao. ‘The bottom of the stump tickles. And I get phantom sensations, some times.’

‘Mn, then you should guide me. But please, don’t hide yourself. I think you’re truly gorgeous.’

Meng Yao slipped his arm from the sleeve of his blazer, then brought his hand to Xichen’s chin and grabbed him, fingertips digging into Xichen’s skin. ‘Give me your mouth.’

Xichen realised he was going to be in for one hell of a night, between two such demanding men. But he trusted Mingjue, and despite Meng Yao clearly being strong both of body and mind, he didn’t expect the smaller man to push him, should he protest in earnest. So he obliged and let Meng Yao ravish him: allowed for his hair to be pulled, his lips nipped and bitten, his tongue assaulted. When the smaller man lowered his hand onto his throat and squeezed, he made a surprised sound and pulled back.

‘Oh, you don’t like that?’

‘I don’t like being choked, no.’ Xichen eyed Mingjue, who looked equally shocked, his hands balled into fists by his side. ‘Not like that.’

‘But you don’t mind choking on something else?’

‘Meng Yao!’

The smaller man turned to Nie Mingjue, grinning widely. ‘You act so coyly around him!’ He turned back to Xichen and whispered in his ear: ‘Mingjue likes to treat you like you’re delicate, hm? Not me. I like being a brat, and I like it when he fucks the breath out of me.’

Xichen felt his cheeks glowing red-hot. Meng Yao laughed out loud. ‘You’re blushing like a virgin!’ Xichen muttered something about being raised in a religious community, which made Meng Yao laugh even more. He wriggled in Xichen’s lap. ‘Oh, I’d love to see you come undone,’ he whispered. ‘I want to wrangle moans and groans from your chest...’ He kissed Xichen’s neck and bit down softly, possessively. ‘Do you ever swear when you come?’

‘Okay, that’s it.’ Nie Mingjue rose from the couch, the front of his trousers bulging, and walked over. ‘Hold on tight.’

Xichen yelped when Mingjue slipped his arm underneath his legs and behind his back, and lifted the two of them out of the chair with ease. Meng Yao didn’t protest, he fell back against Mingjue’s chest and held onto Xichen with one arm, and let himself be carried over to the bedroom as if it was something Mingjue did all the time. Before carefully lowering them on the bed, Mingjue sought Xichen’s lips and kissed him swiftly.

‘I’m done watching,’ Mingjue declared.

‘You’ll have to fight me for him, Da-ge,’ said Meng Yao.

Xichen was surprised to hear he and Meng Yao had the same nickname for Mingjue, but he didn’t have time to linger on the thought: soon he found himself being pressed in from both sides by two feverishly hot, horny men, and he lost all capability for ideation.

Chapter Text

Meng Yao pushed up against his chest, claiming his lips before Mingjue could. The larger man seemed fine with that, he pressed up against Xichen’s backside and wrapped an arm around his hips, pulling Xichen’s ass tight against his erection and grinding into him, watching the other two make out. He nuzzled against Xichen’s neck, pressing sweet, gentle kisses onto his skin.

Xichen tried to push Meng Yao away for a moment. The other man was leaving him breathless. He only got about a seconds worth respite before Meng Yao buried his hand in his hair and pulled him back again, but it was sufficient: the smaller man had shifted somewhat and now Xichen could breathe through his nose again. He lowered his hand across Meng Yao’s chest, feeling the hard muscles rise and fall under his fingers. The small man had to be at least as toned as Mingjue! Despite no longer being a professional dancer, it didn’t seem like he had given up on keeping in shape at all…

Maybe that’s how they had met, Xichen thought; perhaps Meng Yao had joined one of Mingjue’s gyms, they’d hooked up and then Meng Yao had applied to become Mingjue’s personal assistant? Xichen made a mental note to ask about it later.

His hand fell even lower and pressed against the fly of Meng Yao’s pants. The other man’s teeth came down on Xichen’s lip hard enough to draw blood, and Xichen recoiled, almost knocking the back of his head against Mingjue’s skull but very nearly missing.

‘I’m sorry,’ Meng Yao said and he shivered visibly. ‘Didn’t mean to.’

Lan Xichen wasn’t entirely sure of that, and he felt a little taken aback. He shifted in Mingjue’s grasp – the other man understood him wordlessly and let him out of his grip – and Xichen rose from the bed. He grabbed a tissue from his night stand and dabbed his bleeding lip.

‘You okay, Xichen?’ asked Nie Mingjue. Xichen nodded, although he wasn’t planning on surprising Meng Yao again while the other man was assaulting his lips. ‘C’mere you,’ Mingjue said to Meng Yao, reaching out with his large hands. He grabbed Meng Yao’s face with one hand, latched the other onto his shoulder and dragged him over to his side of the bed. Meng Yao didn’t seem to mind being manhandled at all: he kissed the larger man with as much fervour as he had kissed Xichen before. Mingjue voiced a groan that went straight to Xichen’s groin.

‘Fuck,’ he sighed. ‘A-Yao.’

‘Missed you, Da-ge.’ Meng Yao’s fingers grabbed Mingjue’s T-shirt so hard it looked like the fabric might rip.

Xichen decided now was perhaps a good time to grab a few towels. He stepped out of the room momentarily and when he returned, Mingjue pushed Meng Yao away for a few moments.

‘Xichen,’ he said, wiping his face with the back of his hand. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’

‘I’m not fragile,’ Xichen groaned and took off his sweater and t-shirt in a single movement, tossing them aside and climbing onto the bed. He positioned himself behind Meng Yao and allowed himself to be mean, if only for a moment – and because he had a feeling Meng Yao would actually appreciate it. He grabbed a handful of the smaller man’s hair and forced his head back towards him, so they could look each other in the eye. ‘But I want no more biting, is that clear?’

He saw Meng Yao strain against his grip, his big eyes wide. ‘Yes, Er-ge.’

He pressed a hot kiss on Meng Yao’s throat before releasing him. ‘Good.’

Mingjue sniggered. ‘Manipulative little bastard.’

‘What?’ said Xichen, blinking. Mingjue would never dare say something like that to him, especially not in the throes of passion.

‘He likes being treated rough. I’m betting he bit you precisely because he hoped it would piss you off, and he would get you to lose your cool.’ He grabbed the front of Meng Yao’s shirt and yanked the smaller man towards him. ‘Isn’t that right, A-Yao?’ Meng Yao said nothing, but the glint in his eye and the smirk on his face were unmistakeable. ‘See? The little shit is just craving to be punished.’

‘Mingjue.’ Xichen waited for the larger man to look at him. ‘I don’t like talk like that in my house.’

He huffed. ‘Sorry, Xichen.’

Meng Yao burst into laughter and looked up. ‘Seriously?’

‘Seriously.’ The corners of Xichen’s mouth curved upwards. ‘So now you know that next time you desire punishment, you won’t have to resort to biting.’

‘But,’ said Mingjue, waiting for Meng Yao to turn his gaze towards him. ‘Don’t blaspheme. He really doesn’t like that.’

‘I don’t,’ added Xichen. ‘So please don’t try me. Because I will drag you out of my apartment and lock you out, and I won’t care how many clothes you are or are not wearing at that point.’

‘Alright,’ said Meng Yao. ‘Message received, loud and clear.’ He turned on his back to face Xichen without having to twist his neck. ‘Anything else?’

‘No means no.’

‘Of course.’

‘And condoms and lubricant are a must. Unless we decide to go steady and we all get a check-up first, then we can leave the condoms behind.’

‘Hmm, you’re a conservative one, aren’t you?’ Meng Yao mused.

‘I like being safe,’ said Xichen. ‘That’s all.’

‘And you like consent, hm?’ Meng Yao brushed his hand across Xichen’s cheek and chin. ‘You have my word. To all of it.’

‘Thank you.’ Xichen leaned over to kiss Meng Yao, and even though his kisses were no less messy than those of the other man, he kept them gentle and restrained. The smaller man keened softly, closed his eyes and went all soft underneath Xichen’s attentions – apart of course for that one, important body part.

Finally, Xichen withdrew and said to Mingjue: ‘You take care of him.’ The larger man was happy to oblige and turned Meng Yao back on his side, kissing him hard and deep. Xichen’s hand slipped down to Meng Yao’s fly and he unbuttoned Meng Yao’s trousers, zipped them down and pulled them away from his hips and thighs, dragging his boxers along as well. With a smart of mischief, he decided to leave them there, half-way down his legs. If he Meng Yao wanted them off, he’d have to struggle for it. Something told him Meng Yao wouldn’t mind at all.

He reached back to get a bit of lubricant – hooray for soap dispensers – from his night stand onto his hand, then pressed himself against Meng Yao’s back, brought his hand down between the other man’s legs and brushed his hand over the smaller man’s hard length. Meng Yao shuddered against him and Xichen pressed a wet kiss in the nape of his neck, then let his breath run over the same spot to make Meng Yao’s hairs stand on end. His hand cupped the other man’s balls and carefully massaged them.

Meng Yao broke off one of Mingjue’s kisses and arched his back against Xichen, rubbing his backside against him. ‘Take off your pants,’ he said. ‘I want to feel you against me.’

Xichen propped himself up on one arm and looked over him at Mingjue. ‘What do you think?’ he asked.

‘I’m thinking I want to devour you the way I just devoured him.’

Meng Yao made a disappointed little noise, so endearing it made Xichen laugh. ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I can multitask. Why don’t you let me in between the two of you...’ Meng Yao made room for him – Mingjue was already at the edge of the bed – and Xichen lowered himself between them. Mingjue started kissing him straight away and lowered his hands to Xichen’s trousers, unbuttoning them and slipping his hand inside. Xichen reached for Meng Yao’s member, wrapped his hand around him and began lazily pumping his fist up and down, letting the other man’s keening noises direct his tempo.

Mingjue’s hand squeezed him and Xichen gasped into the other man’s mouth. Next to him, Meng Yao groaned longingly: ‘Beautiful.’ It send a warm shiver down his spine and Xichen suddenly wondered if he liked being praised by Meng Yao.

That might be worth exploring.

When Mingjue momentarily withdrew, Meng Yao quickly grabbed Xichen’s hair and made him turn his face towards him for a wet kiss. The second they stopped for a breath, Mingjue grabbed Xichen by the shoulder and flipped him onto his side, so he faced Mingjue again, and Mingjue assaulted his lips. Xichen placed his hands flat against the larger man’s chest, broke free and panted: ‘I thought we were supposed to be fighting over you!’

‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ said Mingjue, grinning. ‘You can be in the middle too. What do you say, A-Yao?’

‘I think this is perfect,’ said Meng Yao, stripping Xichen of his trousers, then grinding his length against Xichen’s ass. ‘Can I have him first, Da-ge?’

‘Don’t I get a say?’ Xichen asked, and they replied in unison: ‘No!’

‘A-Yao,’ said Mingjue. ‘Hand me a condom and some lube.’ Meng Yao handed him the whole bottle. Mingjue gave Xichen a reassuring kiss. ‘Of course you get to say no, Chen-ge,’ he muttered. ‘You know we were joking right?’

‘I do. I trust you Mingjue, I...’ Xichen faltered when he felt a cold, slick finger prodding against his lower body.

‘Do you feel overwhelmed? Do you need a moment?’ Xichen didn’t reply: the way Meng Yao’s slim fingers worked him made his jaw drop and shivers run up and down his spine. ‘A-Yao,’ said Mingjue. ‘A-Yao, stop.’

The other man groaned, but stilled. ‘Why?’

‘Give him a sec. He needs that.’ Mingjue waited for Xichen to touchdown back to earth again. ‘Hey. You okay?’

‘I… yes.’

‘Are you sure? I need a green light, here, Chen-ge.’ Mingjue studied his face. ‘Or we are gonna stop.’ He ignored Meng Yao’s soft whine.

‘No, no. Don’t stop. I’m okay.’ Lan Xichen took a deep breath and recollected himself. ‘I am, promise.’

‘You will tell me the second we hit orange, yeah?’

‘Yes Da-ge.’

‘Good.’ Mingjue kissed him softly, then moved his hand anything but softly. A small cry escaped from Xichen’s lips and he arched back against Meng Yao, who took that as a sign to continue his masterful finger-work. Within no-time, the two men had Xichen gasping between them.

‘Er-ge,’ whispered Meng Yao behind him. ‘You sound so lovely.’ The new nickname and words of adoration made Xichen’s synapses fire. Meng Yao twisted his hand just when Mingjue pressed his lips on Xichen’s and Xichen cried into Mingjue’s mouth. Meng Yao grinned and withdrew his fingers. ‘Da-ge, can I have the bottle back?’ Mingjue handed it to him wordlessly.

‘Xichen,’ he whispered. ‘How are we?’

‘Green,’ Xichen replied, even though he felt a little intoxicated. He’d never been consciously high or drunk, and he imagined this was what it must feel like. Like he was partially floating outside of his own body and observing himself from some other, undefined plane.

Then he felt Meng Yao’s erection press into him and he bounced back inside his body. A sound got stuck in his throat and all he could do was blink at the intrusion before he started to float again. It felt so good being handled by the two of them: like being on a roller-coaster of pleasure. Mingjue knew exactly what he liked and Meng Yao… somehow Meng Yao hit all of his buttons in the right way, even ones he didn’t know could be pressed. The other man’s groans in his ear made all his hairs stand on edge, and when Meng Yao voiced how great he felt, how wonderfully tight and slick and hot, he felt a weird need to be even better for the smaller man. So he began moving his hips in tandem with Meng Yao’s thrusts, pushing back when Meng Yao stuttered forward, and back into Mingjue’s welcoming fist, and he moaned into Mingjue’s mouth, greeted by his tongue and his familiar flavour.

Before he knew it, he found himself bucking between them, trapped by their bodies, moaning and yelling wordlessly and thrashing until he went completely limp, and he was reaching for air. He very faintly registered the stickiness on his belly and the fact that words were being spoken overhead, but he couldn’t bring himself to focus. He felt Mingjue’s strong arms flipping him over and embracing him, sensed the other man’s moustache tickle his neck.

‘Xichen,’ he whispered. ‘Xichen. Come back to us.’

He found himself staring at Meng Yao’s face, who was looking back with the widest, most adoring smile on his face.

‘Oh Er-ge,’ he whispered, and brushed Xichen’s hair from his face. ‘Wow. That was amazing.’

Xichen reached out and pressed his lips against those of the smaller man, desperately wanting more. Meng Yao was happy to oblige, but Mingjue was hesitant.

‘Xichen?’ he waited for him to break the kiss and look back over his shoulder. ‘You still good?’

He frantically wanted to say yes, but he knew Mingjue didn’t ask for no reason. He put his head down on the pillow, closed his eyes for a few moments and centred himself, focussing on his breathing and searching his feelings to make sure he was, really, still okay. He opened his eyes said, surprised by the hoarseness of his own voice: ‘I’m good, Mingjue. I want it. I want you.’

‘Okay. Then you’re gonna get me.’

Lan Xichen turned back to find Meng Yao staring at the both of them, a question written all over his face.

‘The thing about being raised in a religious community wasn’t a joke,’ Xichen clarified.

‘Yeah, no. I knew that.’

‘And asking for consent is more than a courtesy to me.’

Meng Yao cupped his cheek. ‘I wanna hear all about it,’ he said, and kissed his lips. ‘Later.’

‘Later.’ The last syllable was punched out of him when Nie Mingjue, unannounced, breached him from behind. Lan Xichen voiced a lengthy, strangled moan when the other man grabbed him by the hips and bottomed out in one easy, filthy slide.

‘Fuck,’ Mingjue groaned. ‘That’s so fucking hot.’

Xichen couldn’t speak, could barely bring himself to move with Mingjue and just let the larger man move inside him while he went boneless, closed his eyes and slumped over on his side. That was why he didn’t realize what Meng Yao was up to until he felt the smaller man’s mouth enveloping his cock, and he yelped. His hands scrambled for something to latch on to: one of them grabbed his sheets, the other fisted Meng Yao’s hair. Meng Yao hummed contentedly and swallowed him down in one impressive motion.

Xichen’s world became blurry. He could no longer make out if the obscene moans filling his bedchamber were his or Mingjue’s or Meng Yao’s, could no longer tell whose hands were touching him where and who he was holding. He was miles away and at the same time he had never felt his own body so sharply.

He didn’t know what left his mouth when he came a second time, only that it was loud.

Both Mingjue and Meng Yao proudly informed him later that it had, in fact, been a curse. And a profane one at that.

Chapter Text

On a weekday, Lan Wangji didn’t allow himself to depart for Pan’s until after lunch. He required most of his mornings to complete his routine: morning meditation and physical training, followed by a shower and breakfast, practising his cultivation skills through music, study, or mental exercises. At ten, he’d turn on his laptop and check his correspondence, perform the administrative tasks for Pan, and no later than eleven, would commit to the work relating to his doctorate.

After lunch, at one thirty, he’d leave for Pan and continue his work there, until around four thirty, when Wei Ying was home bound.

Theoretically, his weekends were his time off. In practise, he used that time to do the laundry, dust the shelves, clean the bath room, and maybe read a book that wasn’t related to cultivation or his studies. He detested shopping in general and grocery shopping in particularly, so he ordered anything he required online and had it delivered at his doorstep. The only places of retail he ever visited were museum shops, book stores or art galleries. On Sunday’s, he visited Cloud Recesses.

So he was surprised to see the number of people out and about in Caiyi’s City Center, when that Saturday he decided to visit Wei Ying at Pan. For a moment he searched his memory: was there some holiday he’d forgotten about? But no, it seemed all of these people had left the security of their homes purely to browse the store-fronts. Lan Wangji could hardly imagine a worse way of spending his time.

There was a queue outside the café, and when he approached the door, he was called out by a patron.

‘Hey asshole. Think you’re too important to wait in line with the rest of us?’

Lan Wangji’s expression turned a few degrees colder. ‘I’m the manager,’ he rebuked.

‘Yeah, right!’ huffed the personage in disbelief. ‘And I’m the king of Spain!’

A woman at his side hushed him: ‘I think he actually is the manager...’

Lan Wangji no longer p aid attention to the two of them. He asked the three girls by the door to let him pass – they did not respond with words, only with compliance and the sort of infantile giggling he abhorred in youngsters – and managed to slip inside without having to come into physical contact with any of them. He saluted the barista’s and made straight for the kitchen.

‘Good morning, Lan Wangji!’ bellowed Wei Ying, in the fondest of ways. ‘You’re early!’

‘I hope Wei Ying does not object?’ He placed his book – the only accessory he’d brought – on the kitchen table.

‘No, no, of course not. Would you like some tea?’

‘Wei Ying is busy. I’ll make some myself.’

‘Oh, you’re making me look like a bad host!’ Wei Ying said it laughing, and it did seem like he was very busy: the kitchen counter was covered in ingredients, bowls, tools for cake decoration, and no less then three pans were bubbling on the stove. Sometimes it surprised Lan Wangji that Wei Ying managed to make such a mess every day, yet never left the kitchen after a day’s work without it looking pristine.

There was a water boiler over at the far end of the kitchen counter, and ever since Lan Wangji had started to spent time in the kitchen, Wei Ying kept a tea set and a small supply of Oolong tea at hand.

‘Would you like something to drink, Wei Ying?’

‘No, thank you, Wangji. I haven’t the time...’

‘Wei Ying must stay hydrated.’

‘Oh, I know… Alright, fine.’ He nodded over at the fridge. Lan Wangji tried to convince Wei Ying to drink less carbo-hydrated lemonade and coffee, but seeing as how he was slaving away, Lan Wangji would be happy to see him imbibe any kinds of liquids at all. So he filled a glass with a soda-drink for Wei Ying and placed it besides him.

‘Thank you, Wangji.’

‘Of course, Wei Ying.’ He lingered. ‘Is Saturday always this crowded?’

‘Oh yeah. Busiest day of the week.’

‘Wei Ying requires an assistant.’

The chef turned his head and his face displayed an array of emotions: surprise, dismissal, amusement. ‘No, I don’t. I can manage fine!’

‘Wei Ying must have time to take good care of himself. If he cannot, he is overburdened.’

‘I’m not, I mean it! I’m handling this. I’m no more busy now than I was at any of my other jobs, I swear! And besides, it’s only on Saturdays that it’s this hectic. And around lunch on any weekday.’

Lan Wangji made a mental note to speak to his brother about the possibility of hiring a helping hand for their culinary artist. Considering the margin of profit Pan was currently making, there should be no noteworthy impediment.

‘You didn’t bring work?’ Wei Ying said, noticing the absence of Lan Wangji’s laptop bag.

‘Mn. Some light reading.’

Wei Ying cocked his head to read the title on the spine of the book. ‘The Complete Fiction of Lu Xun. Right. I remember we had to read The True Story of Ah Q for school.’

‘Was it not to Wei Ying’s liking?’

He shrugged. ‘It was relatively short, I believe.’

Lan Wangji didn’t comment. He was under the impression that Wei Ying was not an avid reader. No matter.

‘What is Wei Ying making?’

‘Extra cupcakes and a candied-orange-and-ginger cake. The fancier snacks always sell more during the weekends – I suppose people like to treat themselves – so I tend to make a double batch these days. I’m right on track...’ He cast a glance at the overhead digital clock. ‘Yeah, I can take the cakes out of the oven in a bit. Plenty of time.’

Despite of how chaotic Wei Ying’s processes seemed to Lan Wangji, he was under the impression that Wei Ying had an excellent sense of timing. Nothing ever came out of his kitchen undercooked or slightly dry – except for those five spice chocolate cupcakes he’d made the day Wen Ning was assaulted by his cousins, but that had hardly been due to him failing.

The water had come to a boil. Lan Wangji let it cool down a bit before filling the tea pot and adding the tea, and taking it over to the table. He’d only read two pages when the kitchen door was pushed open by Song Lan’s shoulder.

‘Wei Ying!’ he said. ‘Visitor!’ He disappeared again before Wei Ying could respond.

‘Oh,’ said Wei Ying abashed. He was clearly in the middle of something that could not easily be aborted.

‘Is Wei Ying expecting someone?’ asked Lan Wangji.

‘Err… No.’

‘Shall I make inquiry on his behalf?’

Wei Ying gestured with his dough-plastered hands. ‘That would be wonderful, Wangji! Thank you.’

Lan Wangji closed his book and stepped out of the kitchen and onto the crowded café floor. By the counter stood a man and a woman, and he recognized both of them. The woman from Wei Ying’s profile picture in his messaging app, and the man because he had called him an asshole some ten minutes prior.

‘Oh. If it isn’t the manager,’ said he, crossing his arms.

‘You must be Lan Wangji,’ said the woman, kindly.

‘Yes,’ Lan Wangji replied. ‘Are you a friend of Wei Ying?’ He chose to ignore the other person.

‘I am Jiang Yanli, his sister. This is my brother, Jiang Cheng.’

‘I see.’ For reasons not quite clear to him, he felt a huge sense of relief wash over him, followed by a spark of annoyance. This rude individual was Wei Ying’s brother? No wonder Wei Ying had never spoken affectionately of him.

That did not count for his sister, however. Wei Ying spoke of her in the highest regards, and he would no more appreciate for his sister to be turned away – even if she did chose to visit him at an inconvenient time – then Lan Wangji expected he himself would with respect to Lan Xichen.

‘Wei Ying is unable to leave his station at this exact moment,’ said Lan Wangji. ‘Could you wait a moment?’

‘We just did,’ the man whined, but his sister replied: ‘Of course.’

‘Thank you.’ Lan Wangji nodded politely. ‘Have a drink, please. On the house.’ He turned, informed Song Lan at the register to write down two beverages of the siblings’ choice at Pan’s expense, and went back into the kitchen to notify Wei Ying.

Wei Ying had only just removed his cakes from the oven and was in the process of pouring some kind of… orange sauce over them. To Lan Wangji surprise, it rendered a beautiful marbled effect.

‘Ah, Wangji. Who was it?’ Wei Ying asked, without taking his eyes of the cake as he carefully removed any excess sauce with a palette knife.

‘Wei Ying’s siblings,’ replied Lan Wangji. ‘I asked them to wait for you.’ Wei Ying dropped the utensil on the counter top around the word ‘wait’.

‘Yanli and… Jiang Cheng? He’s here?’

‘I believe so.’ Wei Ying did not sound particularly happy. ‘Would Wei Ying prefer I send either of them away?’

‘No! Oh hell, no! It’s just that this is not...’ He rubbed his hands over the front of his apron, looked around for his palette knife, found it right in front of him, moved it to the sink, moved back towards the cake, then seemed to realize he could not continue what he was doing and washed his hands instead.

‘Wei Ying. They can wait a moment.’ When Wei Ying seemed no calmer, Lan Wangji added: ‘I asked them to wait and have a drink.’

‘No, I mean… Yeah. I mean, thank you! I just...’ Wei Ying removed his hat and hairnet and like always, Lan Wangji felt something warm flicker in his chest when he saw the other man’s hair fall around his ears. ‘Did he look… mad?’

‘Your brother?’ Lan Wangji considered the nature of the question a moment. ‘Yes. But I would attest that is his default posture and may not be related to your proximity.’

Wei Ying blinked at him, then laughed a wkwardly . ‘Have you two met before?’

‘Only a moment ago.’

‘Okay, well… You’ve hit that nail on the head.’ He brushed his face with his hands. ‘Alright. I should… I’ll go talk to them.’

‘Wei Ying.’ Lan Wangji waited for the other man to look him in the eye. ‘Can I be of assistance?’

‘No.’ He grabbed Wangji’s wrist – a move Lan Wangji did not anticipate and almost made him recoil. Almost – then squeezed it softly. ‘It’s fine. I’ll tell them I can’t stay away long.’ He smiled. ‘But I would like you to meet them some other time.’

‘What ever Wei Ying wants.’

Wei Ying had already left the kitchen when Lan Wangji realized that it wasn’t an empty promise, and that he would, in fact, against his principles, meet with that troglodyte, even go so far as to exchange some semi-polite banalities with him, if only it would make Wei Ying happy.

Wangji. Do you like Wei Ying? his brother had asked.

Oh.

Chapter Text

‘Yanli! Jiang Cheng!’ Wei Ying was glad to see his siblings had managed to find themselves a table – perhaps with the help of the barista’s. ‘What a surprise!’

Jiang Yanli rose to give him a hug, his brother only nodded in acknowledgement. There was no empty seat available – Pan was filled to the brim – and so Wei Ying moved behind his brother’s seat to go and sit in the window sill. ‘What’s the occasion?’

‘Do we need an occasion?’ Jiang Cheng said, frowning.

‘Well, there is an occasion,’ said Jiang Yanli. ‘I got the job!’

Wei Ying’s mouth dropped. ‘That’s wonderful! Congratulations!’

‘Thank you!’ He hugged her again. ‘It came as a real surprise: I was beginning to think they’d forgotten all about me when I suddenly received a call, asking if I could come by. And then they offered me the job!’

‘I know you deserve it, a-Li! I’m so happy for you!’

Jiang Cheng made a noise; clearly he wanted to let his siblings know he was feeling ignored.

‘Jiang Cheng decided to come with me,’ Yanli said.

‘Well, mother insisted,’ he muttered. ‘She wanted to be sure our shijie would end up working for a proper organization.’

‘She has reasons to doubt that?’ said Wei Ying sceptically.

‘Well, they did leave her hanging for a couple of weeks.’

‘I’m sure there’s some perfectly good explanation,’ said Jiang Yanli diplomatically. ‘I felt we should celebrate, so I proposed we come here.’

‘Except we didn’t know it would be such a full house here,’ said Jiang Cheng. ‘Is it always like this?’

‘Only on Saturdays,’ said Wei Ying. ‘And around lunchtime. Which, on Saturdays, is all day long.’

‘Your doing? I seem to remember you used to make spectacular sandwiches.’ Jiang Cheng’s words balanced so neatly between accusatory and complimentary it would’ve made a rope dancer proud.

‘I believe I am somewhat to blame,’ said Wei Ying. ‘But Pan’s always been renowned for it’s great barista’s too. Wen Ning – the one with the bow in his hair? He’s competed in the national championships. Twice.’

‘There’s championships for making coffee?’ said Jiang Cheng incredulously.

‘Uhuh. This year, they’re going to be held in Lanling, in September. Wen Ning’s competing for the third time and we’ve all promised to come along as his supporters. We’re going to have t-shirts made and everything!’

‘That’s so sweet of you!’ said Yanli.

‘Lan Xichen even promised to close down the café for the day, so we can all come. I just know he’s going to be there too.’

‘You mean that piece of human permafrost we just met? Seems to me like you could get more cheers out of a corpse.’

‘A-Cheng!’

‘No, that’s his brother, the business manager,’ Wei Ying said. ‘Don’t insult them, Jiang Wanyin; there not just my employers but also my friends.’

Jiang Cheng all but rolled his eyes. ‘Well, they’d better not be wearing you out. I heard him when he said: ‘Wei Ying can’t leave his station right now’. They’re letting you take regular breaks, right, making sure you don’t get overworked?’

‘In fact, Lan Wangji just suggested they hire an assistant for me.’ Wei Ying could tell his shijie was going to suggest he let them, so he continued: ‘I really don’t want them too, though! I’m actually happy to have a whole kitchen to myself. And I’m managing just fine: Lan Xichen is the most relaxed boss I ever had. He loves just about everything I do.’

‘You know what’s best for you,’ said Yanli, patting him on the arm.

‘How long will you two be staying?’ he asked. ‘I’m really sorry, I should be getting back to work in a bit. I would love to have a drink with you two...’

‘We should have told you we were coming. It’s fine, Wei Ying.’ Jiang Yanli looked over at her brother. ‘I think we’ll just finish our drinks and then go back to Yunping. I have a probationary period of two months, after that, I may have to start looking for a place of my own here in Caiyi. And then I can come by more often!’ Wei Ying couldn’t help but see Jiang Cheng’s face fall at that statement.

‘Oh, we should start for houses looking together! I haven’t seriously started looking, to be honest. I haven’t had the time.’ Wei Ying saw his siblings’ faces and added: ‘Because I’m having too good a time at A-Sang’s, and I’m too busy making new friends.’

That didn’t exactly lift the look of misery on Jiang Cheng’ face.

‘You know what, I just made an orange-and-ginger-mirror-cake, and I insist you two have a piece.’ Wei Ying rose. ‘And maybe we should all have dinner some time. Soon.’

‘I’d like that,’ said Yanli.

‘We could al have dinner together if you’d just come back to Lotus Pier once in your lifetime,’ Jiang Cheng burst. Wei Ying and Jiang Yanli weren’t the only ones turning towards him, and judging by how Jiang Cheng’s face was quickly turning red, he was well aware of it.

‘I don’t feel welcome at Lotus Pier any more,’ said Wei Ying coldly. ‘And you should know why.’ He rose and stepped away from the table. ‘Thanks for coming by, shijie. I’m really happy for you.’

‘Wei Wuxian!’

Hearing that name made him cringe, but it didn’t stop him from walking away. If anything, it made him all the more determined to keep walking.

‘Is Wei Ying alright?’ asked Lan Wangji, looking up from his novel.

‘No.’ Wei Ying leaned against the kitchen counter and pressed his hands to his face. ‘No, Wei Ying is not alright.’

‘What can I...’ Lan Wangji didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence: the kitchen doors swung open and Jiang Cheng stepped inside, jaw set and eyes flickering with anger.

‘Wei Wuxian!’

‘Don’t call me that,’ Wei Ying snarled. ‘It’s not my name!’

‘It bloody well is! It’s the name your parents gave you...’

‘It’s the name your parents gave me, which is exactly why I want nothing to do with it any more!’

‘Why do you have to be so goddamn ungrateful…?’

‘You’re not supposed to be here,’ said Lan Wangji, rising from his seat and turning to Jiang Cheng. ‘Leave.’

‘I’m not ungrateful, just done being treated as less than I am!’ spat Wei Ying, tears welling up in his eyes. ‘And if you think I’m going back to Lotus Pier just to be reminded of how much of a disappointment I am, you’re wrong!’ Both Song Lan and Jiang Yanli had now entered the kitchen, and the both of them were trying to get Jiang Cheng to leave. Whether it was the former threatening to call the police, or the latter begging her brother to go home with her, who convinced him, Wei Ying would never find out; by the time his siblings had left the kitchen, he had buried his face in Lan Wangji’s shirt and he was bawling his eyes out.

‘I’m sorry about your shirt,’ he muttered, a few minutes later. He was sitting on the table, still leaning against Lan Wangji, who had his arms firmly around him and cradled him in exactly the way he needed, right now.

‘Matters not,’ said Lan Wangji. ‘Only tears.’ Well, that was true, but only because Lan Wangji had shoved a handkerchief in his hands prior to moving him over to the table and telling him to sit down, so Wei Ying had something else to wipe his nose onto.

Wei Ying sniffled: ‘Thanks,’ and Lan Wangji just hummed, rubbing a hand over his back, like a parent comforting a child.

Or in the way a parent should comfort a child, instead of ‘giving them something to cry over’, then sending them to their room. That thought made tears spring back up into his eyes.

‘Wei Ying wants to share?’ Lan Wangji asked.

‘You’re very lucky to have such a loving brother,’ said Wei Ying.

‘I know. I am ever grateful for my ge-ge.’

‘Shijie got the job. At the… you know. She’ll move to Caiyi if she makes the trial period.’

‘That would make Wei Ying happy?’

‘Very much.’ He wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand. ‘I’ll ask her to bring my stuff along from Lotus Pier when she packs up and moves. Then I won’t have to go back again, ever.’

‘Wei Ying dislikes his adoption parents so much?’

‘Not my dad. He was fine. But Madam Yu never liked me and it only got worse, the older I got. And he didn’t do much to stop her from chastising me.’ He sniffed again. ‘I was planning to leave the moment I got of age: get a job, find my own place and move out. I’d hoped that maybe our relationship would improve if I was no longer living at home, you know? Well, it didn’t. It only got worse.’ He forced himself to take a deep breath and he shuddered. ‘I never want to go back. And I never want to see them again. As far as I’m concerned, I’m an orphan again. I’m grateful for what they gave me, and for Yanli, but I don’t owe them anything.’

‘Wei Ying never has to go back,’ said Lan Wangji. ‘Wei Ying may do what he likes.’ He paused. ‘And if Wei Ying wants, we will put Wei Ying’s brother on the blacklist.’

Wei Ying laughed. ‘There is a blacklist?’

‘There can be.’

Wei Ying shook his head. ‘I don’t think that’ll be necessary. He only came here because of Yanli. I doubt he’ll ever be back.’ Another deep breath. ‘Thank you, Wangji.’ A long silence. ‘You can let go of me now.’

‘Wei Ying is sure?’ Lan Wangji muttered.

Wei Ying looked up at Wangji’s face in surprise. The other man didn’t look back, and Wei Ying lowered his gaze again, slowly.

‘That is. Unless you don’t mind,’ he mumbled.

‘Not if Wei Ying is still unwell.’

As a response, Wei Ying hugged him back and let his head rest against the other man’s chest. ‘I don’t know how I ever deserved a friend as sweet as you,’ he murmured. ‘Thank you, Wangji.’

Lan Wangji did not respond, he merely continued to stroke Wei Ying’s back.

Chapter Text

It was the strangest thing to have Meng Yao over. He was not the kind of person Lan Xichen would otherwise easily have taken to: he c ould be petty, mean, pushy and a little bit bossy, inside the bed chamber and outside. He didn’t ask, he demanded. Didn’t suggest he stay for dinner, he just did. And without discussing the matter with either of them, he returned to the apartment on Saturday afternoon carrying a sleep-over bag: ‘So he’d have something fresh to change in, after… you know.’ And he winked at Lan Xichen. Who was then expected to clear out some space for him in his dresser.

At the same time, it didn’t bother Lan Xichen one bit. It was almost as if Meng Yao had always been there. He fitted in with them seamlessly, somehow. And it wasn’t like he was lazy, or uncaring. After breakfast, he assisted in clearing the table, rinsed the dishes as Lan Xichen emptied the dishwasher and Nie Mingjue filled her up again. He offered to cook and did so, assisted by Nie Mingjue, which meant that Lan Xichen was sent off to sit in his own living room and read while the two of them prepared dinner.

It was… perfect. Uncannily perfect.

On Sunday morning, he lay in bed for an unusually long time, looking at the two men in his bed. Mingjue was located in the middle: both Xichen and Meng Yao had been sleeping on one of his impressive biceps, his arms curled around their backs and pressing them against himself in his sleep. They looked so beautiful together and Xichen felt something get stuck in his throat just thinking about how lucky he was to love not one, but two such wonderful creatures. Such attentive boyfriends.

Was Meng Yao his boyfriend now, too?

Whatever he was, Meng Yao was quick to pick up on the pre- existing dynamic of his new lovers . The next time they engaged in sexual play, he, like Mingjue, checked with Xichen to make sure he was alright with what was going on. He didn’t ask what had happened to instigate those moments of inquiry, he just adapted to them, naturally. He didn’t ask a great many questions in general, as if he was accustomed to a need-to-know approach when it came to meeting new people. Or maybe Mingjue had told him not to pry.

It wasn’t until their post-coital shower on Sunday morning that Meng Yao became a little inquisitive.

‘I won’t be home for the rest of the day,’ said Xichen. He had always delighted in having a shower big enough for two people to use at once, and was now even happier to know it could accommodate three with ease. ‘It’ll be just you and Mingjue – if you want to stay, that is.’

‘Where will you be going?’ The smaller man asked. He washed himself between his legs while Mingjue attended to his hair. The large man looked very contented, doing so.

‘Cloud Recesses. Sect business.’

‘You go there every Sunday?’

‘I’m afraid it’s something of an obligation.’

‘What, you don’t like it?’

‘I don’t dislike it.’ Lan Xichen realised that might sound a bit flimsy. ‘My uncle will be there, and my brother. Several cultivators I grew up with and whom I greatly admire. Plus, the affairs of the sect interest me.’

Meng Yao huffed. ‘Well, good. Since you are, you know, the heir and everything.’

‘And everything,’ Xichen echoed.

‘Do you even want to be sect leader?’

‘Not for a long time, I hope, no.’

Mingjue said nothing. He rinsed Meng Yao’s hair and seemed determined not to say a word about the matter. Xichen supposed that was for the best.

The matter was brought up again, however, when he appeared in his own living room in his billowing sect robes: several layers of delicate fabric in white and light blue, held together by a silk sash carefully pinned in place around his waist. He wore a blue ribbon, so pale it was almost white, over his forehead and had used the long ends to tie part of his long hair up into a high ponytail, the basis of which supported a silver filigree hair ornament he’d inherited from his father.

‘Er-ge, wow,’ said Meng Yao, and he whistled. ‘You look ravishing.’

He tried not to think of how inappropriate that remark was and smiled, thinly. ‘Thank you, A-Yao. I suspect the taxi will arrive soon. If I wasn’t clear about that before, you are welcome to stay here with Mingjue. I won’t be back until the late hours, though, and I do suspect I’ll be tired by then.’

‘Say hi to your brother for me,’ said Mingjue, hardly looking up from his magazine. ‘And to your uncle.’

‘I will. Thank you, Mingjue.’

‘I can’t believe this,’ said Meng Yao. ‘I actually fucked a saint.’

‘A-Yao,’ grumbled Mingjue.

‘What? He looks like he drifted right out of a xianxia, doesn’t he?’

‘His sect is not a joke. You shouldn’t treat it as such.’

‘Hey, just trying to be a little light-hearted here,’ the smaller man muttered. ‘Sorry if I’m not treating it seriously, but I was under the impression I wasn’t the only one doing so.’

Well, if that didn’t stung like a knitting needle to the ribcage. ‘What makes you say that?’ said Xichen.

Meg Yao shrugged. ‘You didn’t mention your sect until this morning. I mean, I’m not an idiot: I knew about Cloud Recesses and the Gusu-Lan and the fact that their heir serves cappuccino’s at a queer café. It doesn’t seem like you care an awful lot about your sect.’

That knitting needle was steadily making its way between his ribs and into the vicinity of his heart. ‘Of course I care about my sect,’ said Lan Xichen. ‘It’s what I grew up in...’

‘And consequently ran away from.’

‘I didn’t run away from my sect. I left Cloud Recesses to go study.’ Lan Xichen could see Mingjue trying very hard not to comment. ‘And I’ll admit I stayed because I wanted to build something for myself,’ he added, almost grumbling. ‘But I did not abandon my sect, I never would.’

‘If you say so.’ Meng Yao cuddled up to Nie Mingjue. ‘Well, see you later then.’

Lan Xichen stood, wordlessly, feeling the need to defend himself against this unfair assault – in his own home, no less. He wanted to explain the situation to Meng Yao, inform him that he loved his sect but that he had very good reasons to stay away. He wanted Mingjue to defend him, despite knowing he wouldn’t. Because Xichen had made him swear never to breathe a word...

The doorbell rang, and kept him from having to seek out the confrontation. He swallowed his frustration down, turned to grab his keys from the bowl and stuff them into one of the hidden pockets of his robe. ‘I’ll see you later,’ he said. ‘Have a nice evening, you two.’

‘I love you, Xichen,’ Mingjue called after him. He couldn’t bring himself to reply.

Lan Wangji was already in the back of the black taxicab, also dressed in sect robes, wearing his forehead ribbon and an ornament in his hair, his only slightly smaller than that of Xichen. The cab driver held the door for him, made a respectable bow and a muttered: ‘Zewu-jun, sir.’

Lan Xichen thanked him, slid onto the leather seat and buckled his seat belt. ‘Hello Wangji.’

‘Hello brother.’ They sat in silence, waiting for the driver to step in and start the vehicle. ‘Are you alright? Brother seems tense.’

Lan Xichen huffed a little, being confronted once again by the fact that his little brother was at least as good at reading him as he was at reading his di-di. To anyone else, he might have seemed utterly composed, but Wangji sniffed him out immediately. ‘It’s nothing. A bit of an argument.’

‘With Nie Mingjue?’

‘Yes.’

Lan Xichen placed his hand on the seat between him and his brother, palm up. Wangji reached out and they braided their fingers together.

‘How is Wei Ying?’ Lan Wangji had told him about the incident at Pan’s the day before.

‘Avoiding the subject.’ For about a second, Lan Xichen thought his brother was talking about him, but then his brother continued: ‘He does not tell me what drove him away from home. Think it’s too painful for him.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘Learned that Wei Wuxian is his courtesy name. He does not like it.’

‘It fits him, though,’ said Lan Xichen, pensively. ‘He does seem to be without envy.’

‘Yes.’ Wangji was silent for a while. ‘Want Wei Ying to be happy.’

‘You did make him happy, didn’t you?’ Lan Xichen waited for his brother to look at him, then smiled thinly. ‘Don’t tell me you didn’t call Yu Jinzhu and tell her to hire Wei Ying’s sister.’

Lan Wangji’s jaw slacked, for about a heartbeat. ‘Yu Jinzhu told you?’

‘She didn’t have to. I deduced that one myself.’

L an Wangji remained quiet for a little while. ‘Does brother mind?’

‘ That you called in a favour from Yu Jinzhu? No. You knew Wei Ying’s sister applied, that she’s good for the job, and if it turns out she’s not, Yu Jinzhu will not hire her no matter what you or I say.’

‘ Uncle would not approve,’ Lan Wangji muttered.

‘No. He wouldn’t.’ But then again, there were lots of things their uncle wouldn’t approve of, and asking a friend to reconsider an acquaintance for a job was hardly the most important one. Lan Xichen thought about the two men he’d left behind in his apartment and felt the sting of that same needle again, poking his heart.

Chapter Text

The moment they left the suburbs of Biling Park and entered the publicly accessible, protected grounds at the foot of the mountain, Lan Wangji felt like coming home. He liked living in the city, his apartment being close to the university and Pan, to his brother, and Wei Ying. He enjoyed being able to cross a few streets to check out a new exhibition at the Museum, and to have the possibility of moving around fairly anonymously. But the overwhelming nature and calm that surrounded the Cloud Recesses were like a balm to his senses, and nothing ever made him feel more at ease.

He breathed in deep and slowly let the air escape from his lungs. His brother’s fingers caressed his.

‘Ge-ge?’

‘Yes, di-di?’

‘Do you ever think about moving back to Cloud Recesses?’

‘Not concretely, no.’ He expected his brother to elaborate, but Xichen did not. He stared out of the window and Wangji knew something was bothering him.

‘We will, eventually. Will we not?’

‘Eventually, yes.’

Something about the way he said that, made Wangji’s ears prick up. ‘Do you not want to?’

‘I do.’ A long pause. ‘But it pains me to know what I will be leaving behind.’

Wangji did not quite know how to respond. He’d always known he’d return again, that his time in Caiyi Town was merely an interruption of his life that would always be with his sect, bound as he was to duty as well as to his family. He wasn’t quite sure if he’d return directly after his promotion – that would depend on his options as a researcher. Lan Wangji had never fostered the ambition of becoming a professor, and much of his research he would be able to conduct at Cloud Recesses, if he had the time to commit to them, next to the inevitable responsibilities he would be expected to execute for the sect. And it wasn’t like he’d never be able to leave the mountain again: he could return to the university or travel the country to visit conventions, should that be necessary. In short, he didn’t think he’d have a reason to stay in Caiyi any more after he’d received his doctorate.

It would also depend on his brother. Lan Wangji had quietly assumed that they’d move back together, at some point, and that Pan was his brother’s experiment, his own research project he busied himself with, until they were both ready to go back to Cloud Recesses and take over from Uncle.

So why this sudden reluctance?

Was this to do with Nie Mingjue?

Lan Wangji himself harboured very little feelings towards the man. Back when they were in high school, Nie Mingjue was a bit of a jock: more drawn to physical achievements than scholarly pursuits. Lan Wangji had never really understood his brother’s attraction to the other man, who, to his eyes, seemed rough, unrefined, and had a clear irreverence for following rules. But he and Xichen got along surprisingly well, and even though some of Mingjue’s rebelliousness rubbed off on Xichen, Wangji could tell that Xichen had had at least as much impact on Mingjue.

And for all his flaws, Mingjue did make Xichen happy. Happier than he’d ever been. He paved Xichen’s way to novel experiences, a lot of which Wangji personally did not approve of, but which fascinated his brother and delighted him to his core. And which had taught him a lot about himself.

Truth be told: Lan Wangji had often worried for Xichen. The older Lan may have thought no-one knew of his nightly escapades, but Wangji knew. He’d always known.

During his last year of high school, Xichen would leave Cloud Recesses after nine when the cultivators had tucked in for the night and all was quiet, sneaking out in outrageous garments that would have made Uncle shiver with repulsion. Now, the memory seemed little more than endearing to him, but Wangji remembered the first time he’d seen his brother sneak off in a pair of black jeans and a band-shirt he’d tied in a knot, exposing his waist and his belly button, and wearing black eye make-up and lipstick. Wangji hadn’t dared to breathe a word of it to anyone – knowing full well that Uncle might bring the long-abolished discipline whip back into use, should he find out – but he hadn’t slept either, crying into his pillow in the full belief that his brother had eloped with Nie Mingjue.

Later, he’d learned that that wasn’t the case. That they were ‘merely taking part in the night life’, as Xichen euphemistically called it. It wasn’t until Wangji was in college and living with his brother that he came to the full understanding of what ‘the night life’ actually meant: that his brother was putting himself at risk by flaunting his sexuality at a time and at places when and where queerness was not just looked down upon, but could be seen as a cause for assault, violence, abuse or even murder. He’d had many more sleepless nights over his brother’s safety, during Xichen’s wild years.

Since then, nothing much had changed with respect to the public stance towards queerness. What had changed was how Xichen chose to conduct himself, that he had come to realize how he could express his personality while minimizing the risks to himself and other people. His café operated in broad daylight: it was public, out of the shadows, and therefore its presence got accepted, more or less, by the general audience. He followed all the rules, didn’t object against the rampant inspections into the propriety of his establishment over the years, he ran a tight ship legally and administratively and was always friendly and patient towards the misanthropes who tried to undermine Pan’s existence.

The fact that he didn’t hide his identity helped too: even though he would never mention his affinity with the Gusu-Lan sect to anyone, he never denied his position as future sect-leader either. Wangji knew, as he was certain Xichen knew, that the fact that Pan was registered to the name of the heir to Cloud Recesses had saved them a lot of trouble with government officials.

Nie Mingjue had been out of the picture since before his brother had graduated for the second time. They had always remained friends, but with the end to their relationship, there had emerged a maturer Xichen. A more practical Xichen. A more relaxed Xichen.

Lan Wangji looked at his brother, who stared out the window, and wondered if he should be glad that the other man had come back into Xichen’s life. These last few weeks, he had felt Xichen was happier. It was like he moved easier, lighter. Like he glowed.

He didn’t glow right now.

There had been an argument.

Lan Wangji pressed his brother’s hand. ‘Brother?’ he asked softly.

‘Yes di-di?’

‘Do you love Nie Mingjue?’

Xichen turned to him. Swallowed visibly. ‘Yes.’

‘Does he make brother happy?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can brother promise Mingjue is good to him?’

‘Why would you think he would not be, di-di?’

‘Mingjue often exposed brother to situations that might be deemed dangerous, in retrospect.’ He could see the surprise wash over his brother’s face, and he answered the unspoken question. ‘More than you know, brother. I wasn’t prying, I promise. Brother was… a bit careless, sometimes.’

‘Careless?’ Xichen repeated. ‘How?’

‘Many ways.’ Wangji glanced over at the driver. The screen between him and his passengers was drawn up. Wangji could very faintly hear the sound of the car radio. No part of their conversation would likely be audible to the driver, but still, Wangji lowered his voice and leaned into his brother. ‘I know you kept a stash of condoms in your black messenger bag,’ he whispered. ‘The one you always took with you when you went out. The clothes you kept in the bottom of your closet, on the left, and the shoebox...’ He could see his brother turned a little pale and decided not to continue. ‘I never… I never thought it was wrong, or anything. I still don’t. But I did worry.’

‘You didn’t have to worry. Mingjue was always with me.’

‘Could Mingjue have protected you from a police raid? A shooting? I know you and he went to Dafan Mountain often.’

‘We weren’t there at that time, Wangji.’

‘But you could have been. Or at the Fire Palace.’

‘I never went to Fire Palace,’ said Xichen. ‘I did have some taste back then.’

‘Any of those kinds of places.’

‘They’re called clubs.’

‘Gay clubs.’

‘Don’t tell me you’re against gay clubs. We run a queer café, for crying out loud!’

‘Of course I’m not!’ Wangji sighed. ‘I know you’re not… I know you don’t go to places like that any more. Because you have a reputation now and you can’t afford to be seen...’ He saw a glint of pain in his brother’s eyes. ‘Not because it is disreputable, you know I’d never suggest that! Because it’s dangerous.’

Xichen withdrew his hand.

‘Brother.’

‘I can never be both, can I?’ Wangji heard the frustration in his brother’s voice. ‘I never could, and I never will be. I can never be both.’ He bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. ‘And I can never have both.’

‘Ge-ge.’ Wangji reached for him, but Xichen folded his arms, turned his back, and stared out the window.

Chapter Text

Wei Ying’s phone rang halfway through the movie he, Nie Huaisang and Wen Ning were watching on Saturday evening. He saw it was his sister, and he pressed the conversation away. She did not try to reach him again, that evening.

By the time he woke on Sunday it was past noon. In his defence, they had been watching movies and eating junk food until four in the morning. He stumbled into the living room and saw that Wen Ning was still asleep on the couch and A-Sang’s door was closed, indicating that they hadn’t risen yet either. That probably meant he could take a shower before making breakfast. Or brunch. Or brinner.

Dinfast? Whatever.

He walked into the kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee to take back to the guest room, then grabbed his cell phone and saw his sister had called again, several times, and had left a number of messages.

Shijie: Please don’t ignore me

Shijie: A-Ying? Pick up the phone, please.

Shijie: Are you mad at me? Just because I went with A-Cheng doesn’t mean I agree with him. You know that.

Shijie: A-Ying. Please. Call. Me.

He sighed out. Sipped his coffee and wrote back.

Wei Ying : Sorry, we were watching movies until sunrise. I didn’t mean to alarm you.

Wei Ying: I’m not mad at you. Really.

Wei Ying: But I kinda don’t want to call right now if you don’t mind because I have a hangover.

Nie Huaisang may be a disaster in the kitchen, but they made some killer cocktails. Wei Ying’s current favourite was called a Monkey’s Lunch and was a mix of banana and coffee liqueur with a splash of coconut milk.

A line of dots indicated his sister was typing. She’d probably been sitting on her phone, waiting for him to respond.

Shijie: I’m so sorry for what happened. I would never have asked A-Cheng to come to your place if I had known he was going to… you know.

Wei Ying: Act like a turd-sandwich? Yeah. Who would’ve seen that coming…

Shijie: He misses you.

Wei Ying: Hard to believe.

Shijie: He does. He wanted to come with to Caiyi because he hoped to see you. I know he blew it completely and I’m not going to apologize on his behalf. But you should know that he does miss you.

Wei Ying: Can we talk about anything but him right now?

Shijie: I do have something to tell you. But I’d rather call. I’m a little… apprehensive about writing this down.

Wei Ying blinked at that last text. That did not sound like his sister at all.

Wei Ying: Okay? If you don’t mind me whispering. I think A-Sang and Wen Ning are still asleep.

His sister didn’t write back. Instead, his telephone began buzzing. Wei Ying really didn’t want anything too close to his ears right now, so he put his phone on speaker and put it down next to his pillow, then laid down on his side, on one ear.

‘Hey A-Li.’

‘A-Ying. I am really so sorry for what happened...’

‘You’re forgiven. Wasn’t your fault. I’m just sorry you didn’t get to taste that orange-and-ginger-cake. It was really good.’

‘Next time. I promise.’

‘Okay. And you should meet Lan Wangji. I want you two to meet; he is a bit on the fence when it comes to talking to people, but when you get to know him he is just amazing . And I think you’ll get along just fine.’ And I think I may be in love with him. He paused. Sighed out. ‘What did you want to tell me?’

‘Well...’ Yanli still sounded hesitant, even though they were calling and whispering to one another, like two naughty children who were supposed to be sleeping. ‘Do you remember… Jin Zixuan?’

‘Oh, you mean Pea...’ He quickly swallowed that old nickname, but Jiang Yanli had already heard him.

‘Oh, don’t call him that!’

‘Sorry. Old habit.’ He grinned. ‘What about him?’

There was a long silence. ‘We’re dating again. Sort of.’

‘Yanli!’ Wei Ying felt his mouth drop. ‘How? When? Do tell me he apologized, or I will still kick his butt next time I see him!’

‘He did apologize, Wei Ying. It wasn’t exactly by chance that we met again, you know.’

‘He contacted you, then.’

‘He did. And he told me he was sorry for being such a jerk, before.’

‘A-Li, he was more than just a jerk. He broke off your engagement, for crying out loud.’

‘He knows that. He knows he broke my heart and he knows you and A-Cheng hate his guts and he thinks that’s completely fair. He said that he is even kind of grateful now for how you two stood up for me, because I deserved to have people looking after me after what he did.’

‘Damn right.’

‘But he reached out again and we’ve met a couple of time. Kind of low-key, but… still.’ Another long pause. ‘He lives in Caiyi, these days.’

‘Oh.’ It was Wei Ying’s turn to remain silent for a bit. ‘Don’t tell me you applied for the job just because of him?’

‘Oh no! Absolutely not, I went for the job. That job means the world to me!’

Wei Ying felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips. ‘Good. Because you are the smartest person I know, and seeing as how I’ve met a lot of smart people lately, that should tell you what you’re worth. And if that bloody peacock can’t handle you being smarter and more successful than he is, then he doesn’t deserve you.’

‘I know that, A-Ying, thank you. I’m not the girl I was back then and he knows that too.’

‘I know you know. He just needs to know.’

‘He knows.’

‘Good. So… You want to pick things up with him, now, since you’re going to be in Caiyi more often and he lives there?’

‘I do.’ Another pause. ‘But I kind of wanted to… set up a bit of a test. If you… I mean, if you don’t mind.’

‘A test?’ Wei Ying’s ears pricked up. ‘What kind of test?’

‘I want to take him over to your café. To Pan.’

‘Why would that be a test?’

‘Well...’ Hesitation again. ‘You know Jin Zixun?’

‘The politician?’ Wei Ying frowned. ‘Oh no. Are they…?’

‘They’re cousins. Apparently.’ Wei Ying cringed. Audibly, because Yanli said: ‘Exactly. Now I don’t think Zixuan is like that – I know he wasn’t intolerant when we were younger and I don’t think he made a massive ideological U-turn since then. But if he does share his cousin’s sentiments in even the slightest ways, I wanna nip this in the bud. Before I get, you know...’

‘Before you fall in love with him again. I get it.’ Wei Ying licked his lips. ‘It’s a good idea, I fully support it, and if you want me to do anything extra, I’m good with that.’

‘Extra how?’

Wei Ying chortled. ‘Oh, I’m sure we can think of something...’

Chapter Text

The Lan brothers continued their ride up to the Cloud Recesses in silence. The driver parked the car outside the Thousand Steps towards the sanctuary, where he would wait for the both of them to return and take them back to Caiyi. The brothers left him with a friendly greeting and quietly made their way up.

Uncle was waiting for them at the top of the stairs. They bowed, hands folded in front of them, eyes downcast.

‘Greetings, sect-leader,’ Xichen said, and he heard his brother echo his words behind him.

‘Zewu-jun,’ their uncle replied, formally, using their titles. ‘Hanguang-jun. I welcome you at Cloud Recesses.’ At that, the brothers straightened their backs, and a benevolent smile appeared on the older man’s face. ‘Welcome back, my nephews.’ He opened his arms warmly, Lan Wangji walked up to him and was greeted with a pat on the shoulder. Lan Xichen didn’t feel for such intimacies, not today, and kept his distance. He’d felt sick to his stomach the whole ride long. His uncle noticed, frowned at it, but didn’t insist.

‘Shall we?’ he asked, simply, and the three of them strolled over to the Frost Pavilion, the sect leader’s residence, at the heart of Cloud Recesses. Uncle inquired after their health, after Wangji’s studies and the business at Pan’s. Wangji mentioned his blooming friendship with Wei Ying and the fact that he had invited the other man over to his apartment, which made Uncle visibly proud. They discussed sect business and the news and eventually, after a long walk around the premises and the cold springs, they sat down in the Frost Pavilion for tea.

Lan Xichen had actively tried not to let himself be distracted by the knot in his stomach, but found it hard to ignore. His mind kept wandering back to the fact that his brother knew – had known for a long time, apparently – of his double life. And it wasn’t what he knew that bothered Xichen: yes, he’d always brought a load of condoms with him whenever he and Mingjue visited a club, because he handed them out to everyone and anyone. Condoms were expensive for young people in those days and he wanted them to be safe. Sometimes he’d just leave them in the restrooms by the handful for people to take.

He also didn’t really mind about the clothes, although in retrospect it was perhaps a bit embarrassing that he’d thought plateau boots and a male corset were ever peak fashion, under any circumstance. As for the contents of the shoebox: well, he’d always had good taste, even in pornography, and these days he just kept his collection of illustrations by Tom of Finland and his Bara comics and the artful pictures by Robert Mapplethorpe in his bookcase, instead of hidden away in a box.

No, he wasn’t ashamed about any of that. It was the fact that Wangji had known all this time and that he’d worried for so long without telling him that hurt. The fact that he hadn’t picked up on Wangji’s needs, apparently, even when it was just the two of them, living together. What else had he not picked up on? What else did Wangji know? Had he been so oblivious?

‘Xichen?’

He looked up from the teacup in front of him to see both his uncle and his brother staring at him. His uncle’s frown made his eyebrows all but disappear into his hair, whilst Wangji’s concern only spoke through the slight tightness in his jaw.

Xichen sighed out. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘Clearly, it isn’t.’

‘It’s nothing that needs to be discussed, here and now. I have some… matters to think about.’

‘Perhaps we could be of help by discussing them with you.’

Xichen shook his head. ‘No Uncle. This is something I must do for myself.’

The older man relented. Or so it seemed. ‘I had planned to discuss something with you, today. With the both of you. But perhaps it is not the right moment.’

‘What did you wish to discuss?’ Xichen hoped for something that would distract him.

‘You’re turning thirty-five, come October. Almost a decade older than your father was when he became sect leader.’

Xichen closed his eyes. He really didn’t want to be reminded. ‘Perhaps this is indeed not the best moment to discuss this, Uncle.’

‘You wouldn’t have to take over completely,’ said he. ‘I know you are hesitant about taking on that much responsibility. I wouldn’t ask you to do that.’

‘It’s not that which worries me, Uncle.’ Well, not only that. ‘I know I can rely on your help to guide me, and that you’ll help me make the transition.’

‘Good.’ He still frowned. ‘Then will you consider it?’

‘Consider…?’

‘Coming back to Cloud Recesses.’

H e drew a blank. For the longest time, L an Xichen didn’t know what to say. He stared at his uncle, at Wangji, then at his teacup in front of him, keeping awkwardly silent. Part of him wanted to scream. Part of him wanted to up and leave, run down the Thousand Steps and… not get into the cab. Just walk all the way home like he had many years ago, in the opposite direction. He knew the shortest way to Biling Park was a fifty minute walk, and he only had to cross one wall and two fences to get there. Another thirty minutes from Mingjue’s place to his own at Temple, where he could fall into the safe arms of...

‘Xichen.’

‘Please don’t.’ He said. ‘I really can’t discuss this. Not now.’

‘But I do.’ Xichen looked at his uncle and saw a glint of sadness in the older man’s eye. ‘I need to know,’ he said. ‘Is it something I did? Something I’ve said? I love you like my own, Xichen, I always have. Why does the thought of coming back home appal you?’

‘I…’ His voice faltered. ‘I can’t answer that.’

‘Xichen.’

‘I said not now!’

His uncle recoiled, and so did Wangji. Xichen couldn’t remember the last time he’d shouted at his uncle. He must have been a boy. He gritted his teeth, then rose. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said to both of them. ‘I can’t make a decision like that right now.’

‘I am sorry too,’ his uncle said, getting up as well. ‘I have been very patient, Xichen. I knew you wanted the opportunity to explore the world outside of Cloud Recesses, and I gave you that freedom. You told me you wanted to study and I gave you time. Then you wanted to see if you could create a little world of your own, and I gave you that as well.’

‘I seem to remember you drove a pretty hard bargain,’ Xichen said, folding his arms.

‘I did. But I could tell how much you wanted it, and I came to realise it would be beneficial for Wangji to have you close-by while he was still studying. So I relented. I didn’t make it easy for you, which was on purpose, and I think you know that.’

‘Of course I do.’

‘But now it’s time to stop stalling. You need to come home.’

‘Stalling?’ Xichen replied. ‘Do you think I opened Pan just because I didn’t want to take up my responsibilities at Cloud Recesses?’

‘I do not think that, Xichen. I think your café is something you wanted to realise dearly, and that it is something you are immensely proud of. And you should be. But you knew it was never going to be forever. Your life is here...’

‘I don’t want it.’ It was almost a cry. ‘I don’t want that life, Uncle.’ Tears sprang in his eyes and he turned his hands to fists to keep them from shaking.

‘Can you tell me why not?’ Uncle held out his hands, open. Inviting. ‘Xichen, please. Tell me why.’

‘I can’t!’ Because of Mingjue, he wanted to shout. Because of Mingjue and Meng Yao and Sean Xiao and Mo Xuanyu. And because of... ‘I can’t, Uncle!’ He wanted to brush a hand through his hair, stabbed his fingers on that damn hairpiece he’d inherited from his father, and all of a sudden, he wanted it gone. It was heavy and uncomfortable and he was having a headache and he couldn’t even think properly with that stupid thing weighing down on his brain. So he yanked it off – yelped because of the hair he pulled out of his own skull along with it – and threw it across the room. Then he began tugging at the ribbon keeping his hair up.

‘Brother.’ Wangji rose from his place at the low table and flung himself at him. ‘Stop.’ His strong hands grabbed Xichen’s arms, forcing them down. ‘Stop, please!’

‘Wangji!’ He struggled against his brothers grip. ‘Let go of me!’

‘No. I’m not. I don’t want you to hurt.’ He could hear an edge of distress in his little brother’s voice. ‘Stop hurting yourself!’

You two are asking the impossible , he wanted to say, but the words remained stuck in his throat. Instead, he lowered his arms uselessly, blinked at the silent tears forming in his eyes, and let himself be held by his di-di.

Uncle asked them to stay for dinner, but when Xichen said he wanted to go home – to his apartment, he meant – he did not protest. He walked his nephews over to the Thousand Steps and there he seemed hesitant to remain behind.

‘Promise me you’ll think about what I said,’ he told Xichen. ‘And please, think about a way to tell me what it is you want.’ He reached into his sleeve and handed Xichen his hair ornament. The delicate silver filigree was dented and a small piece had chipped off. When Xichen took it, Uncle placed his hand over Xichen’s and squeezed. ‘I want for you to be happy,’ his uncle said. ‘That’s all I’ve ever wanted for either of you.’

Lan Xichen wanted to die, right then and there. Rather than to be torn between his family and his lovers.

Later, in the car, he stared at the hair ornament in his lap. He and Wangji had hardly spoken, but Wangji had taken his hand in his and held it. He felt comforted by that.

When the taxi cab stopped at his apartment, he looked up. Looked at the lobby and the window of his apartment above, and he didn’t want to go back inside. He was afraid of the questions Mingjue and Meng Yao would ask, why he was home so early. Had something happened. He didn’t want to explain himself, or to having to cry again. He didn’t even want Nie Mingjue to hold him right now.

The cab driver opened the door for him, but he stayed, frozen like a deer caught in the headlights of a car.

He turned to Wangji and asked, barely recognizing his own voice due to how small it sounded: ‘Di-di? Can I come home with you, please?’

Chapter Text

Xichen requested a quick shower, and to borrow a set of clothes to sleep in. Wangji laid them out for him on the laundry basket in the bathroom and proceeded to turn the couch into a bed. Then he sat down, still in his robes, and carefully removed his own headpiece from his hair.

He still couldn’t believe his brother had thrown his down. Worse, he’d broken it. An heirloom that had been in their family for generations. No doubt it could be repaired, but to think he would ever treat something that had been their father’s with so much contempt…

The whole visit had been bewildering. First that car ride, in which Wangji had confessed something to his brother he’d sworn to himself he’d never tell a soul. Xichen’s outburst. Him saying he didn’t want to become sect leader.

How was that even possible? To Wangji, the idea that his brother would be the next head of the Gusu-Lan had been as indisputable as the fact that the earth rotated around the sun. And now he’d said he didn’t want to?

And for some reason, he was afraid of going back to his own apartment.

What on earth had happened?

When his brother came out of the shower – his hair all damp, wearing one of Wangji’s t-shirts and a pair of soft grey track pants – Wangji rose. ‘Can I get you anything?’ he asked, quietly. ‘Something to eat? A cup of tea?’

His brother shook his head. ‘I just want to sleep,’ he said. ‘I’m dog tired. Thank you for letting me stay here, di-di.’

‘Of course.’ Xichen hadn’t looked him in the eye once since they’d arrived at the apartment. ‘Good night, ge-ge.’

‘Good night.’

Wangji stepped past him and into his bedroom, removed his sect garments and put them away carefully. When he entered the bathroom, he was glad to see his brother had treated his with care as well, and hung them on an empty clothes hanger, as well as his ribbon. Wangji had been half afraid he’d find the robes on the floor, in tatters. The broken hair ornament stood on the shelf next to Wangji’s toothbrush.

He showered quickly, put on his housecoat and slippers and sneaked into the kitchen, not wanting to disturb his brother in case he had fallen asleep already. Wangji wasn’t very hungry either, so he made himself a cup of tea, grabbed a protein bar and went back into his bedroom. He tried to do some reading but found that he couldn’t focus.

He grabbed his cellphone instead and texted Wei Ying.

Lan Wangji: Are you busy tomorrow?

He stared at the screen, as if willing Wei Ying to answer. And he did.

Wei Ying: Not particularly. Promised A-Sang I’d get the groceries. Why?

Lan Wangji: I need to talk to you. Urgently.

Wei Ying: Something wrong? Want to call?

That almost made Lan Wangji laugh. He was perhaps the least talkative person in the universe, and Wei Ying wanted to phone him?

Lan Wangji: No, don’t call. It’s not about me. I’m just worried.

He paused there. Should he write down what this was about? He never talked to anyone about these kinds of things, except to Xichen. And now he wanted to talk about Xichen. With Xichen. Who was not available, right now.

Lan Wangji: I’m not sure how or when yet, but could we please talk tomorrow? I would feel a lot better knowing we could.

Wei Ying: Of course. I love talking to you, Wangji. And I have something to tell you too, but it can wait.

Lan Wangji sighed in relief.

Lan Wangji: Thank you. Good night, Wei Ying.

Wei Ying replied with a heart emoji. Wangji didn’t know how to respond to that.

A few hours later, Wangji couldn’t sleep. He was tossing and turning in his bed. Eventually, he stepped out, grabbed his pillow and blanket and walked over to the living room. His eyes were well enough adjusted to the dark that he could make out his brother’s form on the convertible couch. He placed his pillow next to that of Xichen, put his blanket down and crawled next to him, then snuggled up against his brother’s back. Xichen startled and his breath hitched audibly.

‘Wangji!’

‘Sorry brother,’ muttered he. ‘Couldn’t sleep.’

‘You should go back to your own bed,’ Xichen groaned.

‘Don’t want to.’

‘We’re grown men.’

‘So? You’re still my brother.’

‘Of course I am.’

‘Good.’ Lan Wangji wrapped his arms around him. ‘Because I need him.’

‘Wangji.’

‘Don’t push me away.’ He pressed his cheek against his brother’s back. ‘I’m confused about what happened today. Please help me to understand.’

His brother remained still. Sighed deeply. Muttered: ‘What don’t you understand?’

‘Are you mad at me?’

He could tell Xichen looked back at him, over his shoulder. ‘Why would I be mad at you?’

‘Because I knew about your secrets and I never told you. Because I said that Mingjue took you to gay clubs and I worried about your safety.’

‘Well, he did take me to gay clubs and apparently you did worry about my safety,’ Xichen grunted. ‘And I can hardly be mad at you for knowing I’m gay. Or pan. Or whatever. It’s not exactly a secret.’

‘To Uncle it is.’

‘Yeah. To Uncle it is.’

‘Why?’

‘Wangji, for crying out loud.’

‘Put it in words, please. I’m thinking all sorts of things and I can’t tell if any of it makes sense.’

Xichen remained quiet for so long, Wangji was starting to think he’d fallen back asleep. ‘If I tell Uncle, I won’t be able to go back to Cloud Recesses,’ he said, eventually.

‘You think he’ll shut you out?’

‘He might. I don’t know.’

It was Wangji’s turn to be still for a while. ‘But what if he doesn’t?’

‘Then it still won’t matter. Don’t you understand, Wangji? I can’t be sect leader and have a lover. Unless they’re my wife. And I don’t think that’s in it for me.’ Wangji could feel a violent shiver run along his brother’s back. ‘I’ll have to make a choice. If I choose Cloud Recesses, I’ll be alone for the rest of my life. I’ll have to get rid of all of the things I love, all of the things that make me feel like myself, and pretend I’m someone else, forever. If I give up the sect...’ He didn’t finish his sentence. ‘I don’t want to be forced to make that choice. It’s too much. It’s like I’m being split in two.’

Wangji held him tighter. ‘You’ll never be alone, ge-ge,’ he muttered. ‘You’ll never be unloved. You’ll always have me.’ It was almost as if he could feel something shatter in his brother’s body, through the tightening in his chest and the ragged breath escaping him.

‘I’m sorry,’ Xichen whispered. ‘But I don’t think that’s enough.’

‘I know that.’ Wangji brushed a hand through his brother’s hair. ‘Xichen. Xichen, would you look at me, please?’ He withdrew his arms so his brother could turn around, and found him still avoiding his gaze. Wangji could read him, though, and what he read was mortification, fear, pain and sorrow. Part of him wanted to yell at him for it. Wanted to shout: what are you doing, why are you making yourself hurt like this? Can’t you see you’re hurting me too?

Instead, he let his forehead rest against that of his brother and muttered: ‘Ge-ge. I didn’t mean to say that you would have my love should you choose to go back to Cloud Recesses. It’s you that doesn’t understand. You have my love regardless...’

Xichen let out a sob, like he was wounded, and began to shudder uncontrollably. He tried to bury his face in the blankets, but Wangji wouldn’t let him. He pulled the blanket aside and offered himself up, let his brother press himself against him and held him together as he fell apart, the way Xichen had done for him on so many occasions, throughout the years.

When Lan Wangji woke, it was past five. He could tell by the activity of the birds outside, by the intensity of the sunlight behind his curtains, and the fact that he needed to use the bathroom. He looked at Xichen, who was sleeping peacefully, and kept his eyes on him as he very slowly, very carefully, withdrew himself from the mess of tangled hair, limbs and blankets without waking him. He slipped into the bathroom for a short stop, then towards his bed room. His cell phone flickered angrily at him, and Lan Wangji picked it up to find he had a number of voice-mails, worried texts and several missed calls from Nie Mingjue.

Oh dear.

He closed the door and dialled the number. A digital click, followed by a harsh groan.

‘Tell me he’s okay,’ Nie Mingjue demanded. ‘For the love of something holy, Lan Wangji, tell me you know where he is.’ The man didn’t even attempt to hide his anguish.

‘He’s here,’ whispered Lan Wangji. Nie Mingjue made a noise as if he’d been beaten, and Lan Wangji heard an unfamiliar voice swear in a way that made him choke up a little.

‘Thank God,’ Nie Mingjue said. ‘That stupid idiot!’ He seemed to realize who he was talking to and muttered: ‘Sorry, young Lan. I just cannot tell you how worried I was...’

‘You just did,’ Wangji said, diplomatically. ‘I’m sorry. I thought he’d told you.’

‘He didn’t.’ Nie Mingjue sighed out. ‘Is he alright?’

‘No.’ Wangji didn’t see much use in alleviating the matter. ‘He’s asleep on my couch, he’s exhausted and he’s been crying.’

‘What happened?’

Lan Wangji glanced over at the clock. ‘I know it’s early. Can you come to Pan?’

‘Can’t I come over to your place instead?’

‘Not yet. You and I need to talk first.’

‘If you think I caused this in some way...’

‘I don’t think that,’ Lan Wangji interjected. ‘Come to Pan. I’ll open the door. And I’ll explain everything.’

He hung up before Mingjue could protest and phoned Wei Ying instead. Just hearing the other man’s voice – despite it sounding all drowsy and sleepy – made him feel much better.

‘Wei Ying?’ He swallowed with difficulty. ‘I know it’s early. But I really, really need your help.’

Chapter Text

Being up and out of bed by sunrise reminded Wei Ying of the time he worked at Zhou Bakery, and it had, without a shred of doubt, been the least favourite part of his job. He still only felt half awake when he stumbled into Lan Wangji, who was waiting for him just outside the lobby of the apartment building. He looked unethically fresh, beautiful and crisp. Like he’d dropped out of a goddamn magazine or something.

‘It is too early for blasphemy, Wei Ying,’ said Lan Wangji, and that was when Wei Ying realized he’d actually vocalised that last sentence.

‘It’s too early to be looking that good,’ he rebuked. ‘It’s a crime.’

Lan Wangji smiled a little. ‘Arrest me, then.’

‘I might.’ Wei Ying yawned. ‘Okay, so tell me. Where are we going and why?’

‘To Pan’s.’

‘Why?’

‘To talk to Nie Mingjue.’

‘A-Sang’s brother?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did something happen to Xichen?’

‘Wei Ying catches on quickly, despite the hour.’

‘I’m a little sluggish but no less brainy, thank you very much.’

‘Mn. Bit grumpy though.’

‘Fortunately, Pan means coffee. That ought to help.’ Walking helped too. So did the early sunlight on his face and the fact that Lan Wangji was next to him. ‘What happened?’ Lan Wangji remained quiet for a long time and Wei Ying waited, patiently. He’d learned that the Lans rarely spoke without thinking, and that Wangji especially needed some time to gather his thoughts, put them into words, and then pick the shortest possible way to convey the message.

‘Brother and I went to Cloud Recesses, yesterday,’ he said, finally. ‘Uncle leads the sect until brother is ready to take over. Yesterday, he expressed that he is not willing to. Not now, maybe never.’

‘Oh.’ Wei Ying found he had to swallow something down. ‘That came as a surprise, then?’

‘ Brother never expressed a disinclination to leading the sect.’

Wei Ying didn’t know what to say. Or actually, he knew what to say, he just didn’t know if he should say it. Apparently, Lan Wangji noticed, because he looked at him inquisitively.

‘He has?’

‘I mean, not in words,’ Wei Ying said, awkwardly. ‘But, you know. He opened a café.’

‘Brother has always been hospitable.’

‘He put a lot of effort into making it a place where he feels at home.’

‘He spends a lot of time at work. Of course he would want the atmosphere to be pleasant for himself as much as for other people?’

‘He decorated the place so it would remind him of the home he left,’ said Wei Ying. ‘Except he made it cosier, more accessible, and welcoming to the kind of people he identifies with.’ He could tell Lan Wangji was getting the message by the small crease appearing between the man’s eyebrows.

‘Oh.’

‘Yeah. Sorry, Wangji, but… I think he knew, somewhere deep inside. Even if he didn’t fully realize it himself.’

‘He finds Cloud Recesses to be unwelcoming, inaccessible, and cold.’

Ouch. ‘Well, perhaps not in those words exactly...’

‘No. Wei Ying is right.’ Wei Ying could just see the c omprehension seeping into Lan Wangji’s brain. Which was a beautiful process to watch, really. Pieces of a jigsaw falling into place, cogs slowly beginning to turn: all of those metaphors had never been visualised more perfectly than through the micro-expressions in Lan Wangji’s face, and the variegation in his eyes. ‘Thank you,’ Lan Wangji said, finally. ‘Thank you, Wei Ying. I think I understand now.’

‘You’re welcome.’ For some time, all he could hear was the sound of their feet on the pavement, birdsong from trees and hedges and some cars driving in the distance. ‘So, err… what else do you need?’

‘Just Wei Ying.’ Lan Wangji turned his face towards him and grabbed his hand, to take it into his own. Wei Ying felt a shudder travel from the crown of his head to the bottom of his spine. ‘ N eed a friend, to hold my hand. Is that okay?’

A friend.

Wei Ying swallowed something down. ‘Yes. Of course, Lan Wangji.’

‘Thank you.’ It was barely a whisper.

Lan Wangji opened the door to Pan and turned one of the coffee machines on. Wei Ying, still somewhat on auto-pilot, had already stepped into the kitchen when he realised he wasn’t expected to work, turned the oven back off and walked onto the café-floor, shaking his head. Lan Wangji looked at him, bemused.

‘Black coffee?’ he suggested.

‘More like triple espresso,’ Wei Ying replied and grabbed a chair to drop himself onto it, unceremoniously.

‘Make that two.’ Nie Mingjue stepped inside the door, closing her softly. He at least had the decency to look properly dishevelled: unshaven, angry, irritated. Nonetheless, he nodded at Wei Ying. ‘Hey young Wei.’

‘Hey Mingjue.’

‘Why are you here?’

‘Moral support,’ said Lan Wangji, before Wei Ying could reply. ‘For me.’

‘For you, huh?’ Nie Mingjue sat down, put his elbow on the table and let his head rest against his fist. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, I’ve spent the last eight hours fretting about the love of my live. I think that if anyone here is entitled to moral support, it’s me.’

Wei Ying’s eyes shot at Lan Wangji and he could tell the phrase ‘love of my life’ had not exactly gone passed him. Wangji looked, in terms of Wangji, quite shocked. Wei Ying rose and walked over to the counter, gave him a nudge.

‘I’ve got it,’ he said. ‘Go talk.’

Lan Wangji just nodded, and in passing touched Wei Ying’s hand again; briefly but distinctly. He sat down on the chair Wei Ying had just left, opposite Mingjue, and folded his hands in his lap.

‘Xichen told Uncle he doesn’t want to go back to Cloud Recesses,’ he said, and Wei Ying couldn’t help but flinch. Clearly, “ The Subtle Art of S ugar C oating” was not a chapter in the Monk Handbook.

‘Great. And you think it’s because of me,’ said Mingjue.

‘I know it’s because of you. You know it’s because of you.’ It didn’t sound accusatory, at all, but soft. Understanding. ‘You just called him the love of your life.’

‘I’m not sure that’s what I am to him,’ said Mingjue, clearing his throat and looking away.

‘Nor do I. But brother was never happier than when he was with you. Both when you were younger, and now.’ Lan Wangji waited for the big man to look at him before continuing. ‘Uncle let him get out of Cloud Recesses,’ he said. ‘But you set him free. Uncle gave him love, you showed him how he could love himself.’

Wei Ying felt weird. Like he shouldn’t be here, listening in on what sounded like an intimate conversation. An intimate conversation about someone who was present all around them, but who wasn’t even here. He tried to busy himself making a cup of tea for Wangji while he waited for the coffee machine to finish its cleaning cycle.

‘Okay,’ said Mingjue, slowly. ‘What are you saying, Lan Wangji?’

The younger Lan remained silent for a bit and Mingjue didn’t rush him. Wei Ying put some tea leaves in a reusable filter and put it on the saucer next to a steaming cup of water and brought it over to the table.

‘Want you to be here for Xichen,’ said Lan Wangji. ‘When I take over for him at Cloud Recesses.’

A tremor caused the saucer to capsize. On a reflex, Wei Ying reached out to try and catch the cup, to keep it from f alling . The water burned his right hand and he howled in pain, jumping back as the cup and saucer smashed on the floor and shattered to pieces.

Chapter Text

‘Fuck!’ Wei Ying shouted, and he stumbled back, clasping his one hand with the other. Lan Wangji jumped up and in his mind went looking for the appropriate steps. But before he could spring into action, Mingjue had beaten him to it. He jumped from his seat, scooped Wei Ying up, brought him back to the counter and turned the faucet on. Wei Ying didn’t need any encouragement to put his hand under the stream of water and yelped when the water hit his skin.

‘Wangji,’ Mingjue gruffed. ‘Where do you keep the emergency kit?’

Lan Wangji made for the hallway between kitchen, storage and café-floor and returned with the fiery red plastic box under his arm. He placed it onto the counter and eyed Wei Ying, who was gritting his teeth and swearing between hot tears. When he withdrew his hand, Mingjue was quick to guide him back to the jet of water.

‘Ten to fifteen minutes,’ he said.

‘It hurts,’ sobbed Wei Ying, helplessly.

‘Good.’

‘Good?!’ Wei Ying snarled.

‘Means your nerve-ends are still functioning. If it didn’t hurt, you’d be in a lot more trouble.’ Mingjue was remarkably calm. He rummaged through the first aid kit, putting aside scissors, bandages, gauze pads, burn gel and painkillers. ‘Wangji, get him a glass of water, will ya? Wei Ying, any allergies we need to be aware of?’ Wei Ying shook his head. ‘Ever take these before?’ Mingjue held the package of painkillers up for him to see.

‘Yes.’

‘How many do you usually take?’

‘I don’t know. One? Two, if I drank too much?’

Mingjue huffed with amusement. ‘Light-weight.’ He pressed three of the pills out of the package and gave them to him. Wangji handed him the glass of water and Wei Ying downed the pills, then gulped almost all of the water down. He handed Wangji the glass and shuddered.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Didn’t mean to do that.’

‘Evidently,’ muttered Wangji. He didn’t know what else to say. All he knew was that he wanted to hold Wei Ying tight…

Well, why wouldn’t he? Wei Ying had let him hold him the last time he was hurt, and he’d appreciated it then. Lan Wangji shuffled over and carefully put his arms around Wei Ying’s waist. He waited for the other man to respond, and Wei Ying did: by leaning into him. He stopped gritting his teeth too. Lan Wangji held him a little tighter and pressed himself against Wei Ying’s back, protectively.

Mine .

Eventually, Mingjue switched the faucet off and diligently began applying a dressing to Wei Ying’s wound. The skin was fiery red, scalded and blistering. Mingjue put some burn gel on the red skin, avoiding the blisters.

‘Normally, I’d advise against dressing,’ he said, as if lecturing, and he covered the back of Wei Ying’s hand with a sterile gauze pad. ‘But we want to avoid those blisters from popping and the tissue getting infected.’

Wei Ying just nodded.

‘If your blisters do pop, if you get a fever, if the pain increases or if the wound starts leaking pus, you call a doctor immediately, yeah?’ Wei Ying swallowed and nodded again. ‘Would you mind repeating what I just said to you, young Wei?’

‘In case of popping blisters, pus, fever or increased pain, I call a doctor.’

‘Exactly. Keep the bandage dry. You’ll need a new dressing every day, but since you’re staying at my place anyway, I’ll help you with that.’ Wangji could tell how carefully the big man handled Wei Ying’s wound, and he was impressed. For the first time, he saw what his brother had perhaps seen in Nie Mingjue.

‘Wangji, make this guy a cup of coffee, would you?’ Mingjue said.

‘Wei Ying?’ Wangji had to clear his throat. ‘What would you like?’

‘Nothing hot,’ Wei Ying said. He brushed his nose with his free hand. ‘This is going to sound stupid, but...’

‘Not stupid,’ Wangji interjected.

‘Does that thing make hot cocoa?’

Wangji decided not to point out that hot cocoa was, in fact, hot. ‘No. But I can make you some. Nie Mingjue?’

‘Plain old coffee would be nice.’

‘Wangji? There’s left-overs from Saturday in the kitchen fridge.’

‘What would you like, Wei Ying?’

‘Anything. I feel like if I don’t eat something soon, I’m going to faint.’

‘Can’t have that,’ said Mingjue. He added a few band-aids to the bandage to keep it in place. ‘I know slings are a little outdated, but it would probably be wise for you to keep your hand up. Want me to make you one, or are you good?’

A few moments later they were back at the table, Wei Ying with a sling around his neck improvised out of a towel, and with a platter of his desserts, two cups of cocoa and a cup of coffee between the three of them. Wangji knew he was going to have a massive sugar rush: he hadn’t had a proper breakfast and he was guessing the other two men hadn’t either, but neither one of them seemed to care. He was sitting close to Wei Ying, who was uncharacteristically quiet. Maybe he was still a little in shock. Maybe the painkillers were kicking in.

‘I’ll tell my assistant I’m not coming in today,’ Mingjue grunted. ‘I need a nap, dammit.’ He took a gulp from his coffee cup. ‘Are you gonna tell me what happened yesterday, young Lan, or am I going to ask Xichen?’

‘You should ask Xichen,’ said Lan Wangji.

‘Does he know what you proposed?’

‘No.’

‘When are you planning to talk to him about it?’

‘Don’t know. You may tell him, if you want.’

Mingjue shook his head and downed the rest of the coffee. ‘No. I like what you’re trying to do, and maybe it’s even a good idea. I’ve known Xichen for a long time and I know he’s been feeling torn between honouring his sect and leading his own life for ages now.’

So Mingjue had known. That was new information. Wangji felt a sting of jealousy and said: ‘Mingjue encouraged him to lead his own life.’

‘Damn right I did.’ Lan Wangji looked at Mingjue and the larger man looked back. ‘Not because I wanted to coax him away from his family. I honestly don’t know how you feel about me, Wangji, I can’t read you now and I’ve never been able to. I only know you don’t exactly like me, and that you know your brother loves me, because you just told me that.’

‘Mingjue is correct.’

Their conversation stagnated for a few moments in which Lan Wangji was glad to see Wei Ying reaching for a muffin and sinking his teeth in it.

‘Can I be candid for a sec?’ said Mingjue. ‘Tell you how I feel about you and your sect?’

‘Please.’ Wangji steeled himself, expecting the worst.

‘You’re a repressive bunch and you’ve been hiding on that mountain for far too long. And frankly, if your Uncle had let Xichen go to school like a normal kid from the get-go, he’d be in a far better place now, mentally.’ A short hesitation. ‘I’m not sure that goes for you too.’

‘Nor I.’ Wangji paused. He wasn’t very good when it came to taking criticism, he never had been. But Mingjue’s words were hardly as harsh a commentary as he had anticipated. ‘I think I may agree with you. Cloud Recesses is guarded.’

‘Which is understandable, given its history,’ said Mingjue. ‘And I don’t blame your uncle for wanting to protect his nephews, given what happened to your dad and you. But Xichen, he’s not like the rest of you, is he?’

‘He is,’ said Wangji. ‘And he is not.’

‘He’s like a sponge. It’s a good thing he’s got some self-restraint – okay, maybe I should even credit your sect for teaching him that – because sometimes I was worried he wasn’t going to stop until he’d absorbed the entire world around him. I think he finished reading the entire school library within a year. He was so eager to know more, it was almost scary.’

‘You encouraged him.’

Mingjue laughed. ‘I tried to hold him back, actually.’

Lan Wangji blinked.

‘You don’t believe me?’ Mingjue shook his head and put his coffee cup down. ‘It’s okay. I know you had a lot to deal with at the time, young Lan. But trust me when I say I spent a lot of time trailing your brother just to make sure he wouldn’t throw himself headlong into trouble. And because I was madly in love with him, of course.’

‘I’m missing something, here,’ said Wei Ying, sluggishly, and turned to Wangji. ‘What happened to your dad and you?’

Lan Wangji opened his mouth. Closed it again. Shot a look at Nie Mingjue, who made a face as if to say: this one is up to you.

‘Mother died in a car crash when I was six,’ said Lan Wangji. ‘I was sitting beside her. Was bed-ridden for years. Father is…’ He paused a while. ‘His qi deviated.’

‘He went insane,’ Mingjue clarified. ‘In normal-people-speak.’

Wei Ying blinked. ‘He what?’

‘You two should probably talk about that,’ said Mingjue. ‘When you’re not high on pain and painkillers.’ He grabbed a bun filled with apricot jelly and got up. ‘Lan Wangji. Can I go see Xichen now? If you want, I can drop young Wei here off at the apartment.’

Lan Wangji looked for his keys in his pockets and dropped them in Nie Mingjue’s hand. ‘Will take Wei Ying home myself,’ he said.

‘As you wish.’ Nie Mingjue pocketed the keys and walked over to door.

‘Nie Mingjue?’

‘Yes, young Lan?’

‘Tell him he’s the love of your life,’ said Wangji. ‘Or I will tell him in your stead.’

Nie Mingjue smirked. Saluted them, then left.

Chapter Text

The key turning in the lock was enough to wake him from slumber. Lan Xichen looked over at the large clock above Wangji’s desk and to his surprise, saw that it was past six. Since he’d moved out of Cloud Recesses at eighteen, he’d adapted to a new sleep schedule that was more in line with the common people of Caiyi Town, but Wangji still held on to the nine-to-five rhythm. Xichen groaned and sat up, the blanket falling down his chest to pool around his waist.

‘Where have you been?’ he asked, his voice sleep-heavy.

‘I could ask you the same thing.’

His body shuddered and his head snapped towards the door in surprise, even though he had recognized Mingjue’s voice before his eyes confirmed the man’s presence. Suddenly, Lan Xichen realised that he had forgotten something crucial, the night before, and he felt himself shrink with embarrassment.

Nie Mingjue didn’t speak. He casually took off his shoes and his leather jacket, walked over to the coach and sat down next to Lan Xichen, who picked the blanket back up and wrapped it tightly around himself, as if that could hide his shame.

‘Hey,’ said Mingjue. ‘Talk to me, Xichen.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered. ‘I was so… I forgot. I’m terribly sorry, Mingjue.’

The other man hushed him and brushed a hand over his cheek. ‘I’m not mad, Xichen. I was worried sick, I’ll tell you that.’

‘I know. I mean, I should have known...’

‘Xichen.’ Mingjue paused a moment. ‘Can I hold you, please? Is that okay?’

He didn’t want to cry, but he had no defence against the downpour of his waterworks. Mingjue sighed out, wrapped his arms around him and pulled him into an embrace, blanket and all.

‘Goddamnit, Xichen,’ the larger man muttered. ‘What happened to you, huh?’

‘I’m sorry,’ he kept repeating, in between sobs. Mingjue let him cry until he’d calmed down a bit, then brushed his hair out of his face and combed it with his fingers.

‘Can you tell me what happened?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Xichen muttered. He felt tired again, and he’d only just woken up. ‘Everything happened.’

‘Was Meng Yao too much?’

‘I don’t know. I hope not. I like him.’ Xichen laughed a little, sillily, then sniffled. ‘No. It’s Wangji. He knows.’

‘About your dad?’

‘No! About… a lot more than I wanted him to know. About you and me, and our trips to Dafan Mountain. But I don’t think he knows that.’

‘I think he should know, Xichen.’

He shook his head. ‘No.’

‘For fuck’s sake, Xichen, isn’t it better not to have secrets anymore? You’re only making this harder on yourself, you know that?’ Xichen didn’t reply, and Mingjue grumbled: ‘Why do you have to be so goddamn stubborn?’

‘Would you cut it with the language, please?’

‘No. This isn’t your home.’

‘No, it’s not.’ Xichen paused. ‘How did you get a hold of a key?’

‘Your brother called me. I left him about a million messages asking if he knew where you were. We met at Pan.’

‘You…? Why?’

‘Because your little brother wanted me to promise him I’d take care of you when he becomes sect leader in your stead.’

Lan Xichen froze up for a few seconds, then freed himself from Mingjue’s embrace. ‘No. No, I didn’t ask him to do that.’

‘Then what do you think is going to happen, if you turn the job down? Wangji is gonna have to do it. And I’m not saying you should let him do it, Xichen, because that is for you two to decide, but maybe you should consider it. At least he’s got a lot less baggage than you have.’

‘Oh, I can’t do that.’ Xichen buried his face in his hands. ‘He’s in love with Wei Ying.’

‘Oh, yeah. About the little Wei guy: he’s a little handicapped at the moment.’

Xichen blinked and looked at Nie Mingjue between his fingers. ‘Beg your pardon?’

‘Long story short: he knocked a tea cup over and burned his hand.’

‘Oh no,’ Xichen groaned.

‘Yeah. It’s a pretty bad second-degree burn, so he’s going to have to bake with one hand for a couple of weeks.’

‘That’s… oh fuck!’ Xichen closed his eyes. ‘That is not good. Timing-wise, that is really not good.’ He heard Mingjue huff and suppressed the need to roll his eyes. ‘I know. I cursed. And I don’t want it to become a habit. You’re a bad influence, Mingjue.’

‘Oh, come on. You and I did worse things than swear, over the years.’

‘Did we?’ Xichen sighed out, dropping his hands in his lap. ‘From what I recall, all we ever did was meet with good friends. Dress in ways we wanted to dress. Kiss the people we wanted to kiss. Drink and get high...’ He paused at another one of Mingjue’s huffs. ‘Well, the others did. You were too responsible and I was too scared.’

‘ I was too scared. Xichen...’ Mingjue pulled up his legs, shifted around until he h ad dragged Xichen into his lap . ‘I don’t want to be scared for you anymore.’ Xichen froze again and the other man hurried to say: ‘Wait, no, stop. I know those words ended it last time and that’s not what I’m doing. You and I are not breaking up, Xichen.’

‘Good,’ Xichen said, nearly choking on a new wave of tears. ‘Because I don’t want to.’

‘Me neither. But I am done worrying over you...’

‘Good, because people should stop worrying over me. You, and Wangji, and Uncle. I’m doing fine.’

‘Xichen,’ said Mingjue. ‘You are not fine. You are the polar opposite of fine.’

‘I’m managing.’

‘You’re falling apart, damnit. You’ve got one part of you so far up the closet you can’t reach the doorknob anymore, and the other part of you is waist-deep in denial.’ Xichen didn’t respond and Mingjue continued. ‘Can you tell me in all seriousness that you don’t think your uncle knows you’re gay?’

‘I’m pansexual,’ Xichen groaned. ‘Honestly? I don’t think so.’

‘You and Wangji run a notoriously queer café. Su Minshan worked in your kitchen for three years. Your uncle insisted you hire him, and you and I both know that that snake reported every speck of dirt on you he could find...’

‘Just because he snitched on me once doesn’t make him a bad man, Mingjue.’

‘Yeah, right.’

‘I think Uncle still believes it was a phase.’

‘About time you told him otherwise, then.’

‘It’s not that I don’t want to.’

‘Then give me a good reason why you don’t. I mean it, Xichen. Because you used to say you didn’t want to tell him because you were afraid he’d kick you out of Cloud Recesses. But you already told him you don’t want to become sect leader, so that ship has sailed.’

Xichen sighed out hard. Mingjue pulled him into a snug hug.

‘He is not going to respond like your dad did. No offence, darling, but he was insane long before he found you out.’

‘I know that.’

‘Then why. Don’t. You?’

‘Because I’m scared, alright? I lost my mum and him, I almost lost Wangji and then you. I lost Mo Xuanyu – I’m losing everyone!’ Xichen slammed his fists uselessly into the blanket. ‘I’m done losing people.’

‘But this isn’t helping either. If you let Wangji take over as sect leader, then what? Are you still casually gonna go over to him and your uncle every Sunday for dinner? Do you think that’s going to improve your relationship?’

‘At least I won’t have to give up on you.’

Mingjue laughed.

‘What?’

‘I’ve got news for you.’ Mingue grabbed him by the chin, made him look at him. ‘I’m not going anywhere. You’re the love of my life, Xichen. I should have told you that ages ago. And if I have to go and kiss each and every one of those Thousand bloody Steps; if I have to learn your three thousand Clan rules by heart and recite them daily; if I have to face the scrutiny of each and every cultivator in Cloud Recesses and defeat your uncle in hand-to-hand-combat; I fucking will. Hell, I’ll advertise it on the billboard on the Biling Lake Bridge: I, Nie Mingjue, am in love with Lan Xichen. And I wanna be with him until we’re old enough to trip over our beards and our backs snap like twigs every morning when we get out of bed.’

Xichen couldn’t hold back a laugh.

‘For fuck’s sake, I’m trying to be romantic here, Xichen.’

‘You’re bad at it.’

‘Fine,’ he gruffed. ‘How about this: if you want, I’ll move to Cloud Recesses with you. And if that’s not an option, you can build me a cabin just outside the perimeter, so that you and I can spent every night of the rest of our lives together.’

‘You’re being serious, aren’t you?’

‘I’m sorry, was that not obvious? Yes, Xichen. Our government may not allow us to join in matrimony, but I will take the next best thing and if that means sp...’

Xichen smashed his lips against Mingjue’s so hard their teeth clashed. He wrapped his arms around Mingjue’s neck and pressed himself against the other man so fully they both fell over, and he broke the kiss just in time to prevent their heads from knocking together.

‘Is that a...’

‘Yes!’ Xichen pressed kiss after kiss on his lips. ‘Yes, Mingjue, yes. Yes to all of it. Yes to a cabin and yes to the billboard and yes to beards long enough to trip over.’

Mingjue laughed: a warm, rich sound that seemed to come all the way from his toes. He kissed Xichen back: long, sweet and hard.

‘Does that mean you’ll talk to your brother though?’

‘Oh Mingjue, not now.’

‘Later then.’

Xichen sighed. ‘I’ll… I’ll think about it.’

‘Here’s an idea: you can practise on Meng Yao. How about that?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’ve begged him not to ask questions: about you, and me and our past together. To wait until you were ready to talk about it yourself. But I know he is bubbling with curiosity.’

‘I’m… amazed. Meng Yao does not seem like the kind of man who likes to be restrained. But he kept all his questions to himself, for me?’

‘He did.’

‘Is he still at my place?’

‘He probably left for work, by now.’

‘Was he upset?’

‘Quite. He will expect us to make it up to him, big time.’

‘Goodness. How big are we talking?’

Mingjue chuckled. ‘The little man is a diva. I suspect we’re talking tickets to the opera, an Alexander McQueen-scarf and three consecutive orgasms big.’

Xichen couldn’t hold back a laugh. ‘You buy him the scarf, I’ll get him the opera tickets and we can work on those orgasms together.’

‘Hey, that was just your portion. I have an order standing out for a Persian and a pair of diamond cuff-links.’

‘Mingjue, you’re terrible.’

‘Oh, you should hear him talk.’

‘I really should.’ Xichen sighed. ‘I’ll text him, tell him I’m sorry and beg him to come over again tonight? For a talk?’

‘I think he’ll appreciate that. The begging, especially.’ Mingjue took a deep breath. ‘In the mean time, what do we do?’

Xichen eyed the clock. ‘I need to be at Pan around ten for the weekly delivery. And I should probably talk to Wei Ying about what we can do about his hand. And talk to Wangji about… the situation.’

‘Shall I call them and ask if they’re still at Pan while you get dressed?’

‘Yes, that would be...’ Lan Xichen didn’t finish his sentence.

‘Something wrong?’

‘I’m afraid you’re going out with cultivator Lan this morning. I came here in my sect robes, I have nothing else to wear.’

Mingjue shrugged. ‘I suppose I’ll have to get used to seeing you wear them anyway. And besides, Meng Yao’s got a point. You look hot in them.’

Xichen shook his head lightly, kissed him once more and then freed himself from Mingjue’s embrace so he could get dressed.

Chapter Text

They remained silent for a bit after Nie Mingjue left Pan, drinking hot cocoa and eating left-overs. Wei Ying had been drunk rather more often than he was proud of, but he had never taken three heavy painkillers on an empty stomach before and he was feeling positively drowsy. Or negatively drowsy, because he wasn’t exactly feeling a-okay right now.

‘I’m going to be nosy now,’ he said, after swallowing the last bite of his third confection. ‘What does it mean for you to go back to Cloud Recesses? Do you like, go in seclusion like monks do? Move back to the mountain and never come down again?’

‘Not precisely,’ said Wangji. ‘That is what some cultivators might do. Uncle has not left Cloud Recesses for close to eight years, and in his lifetime has not left the mountain more than twenty times.’

‘Oh.’ Wei Ying felt something hard and heavy land in his stomach, and it wasn’t that last piece of rocky-road. ‘So asking you to come down for my birthday party once a year might be pushing it, huh?’

‘Wei Ying. I am not my uncle.’ Lan Wangji took a deep breath. ‘But to be sect leader is a great responsibility. And since brother will perhaps not help me...’

‘Can he just do that? Step out of the way and let you do it instead?’

‘Father gave up his claim to leadership too. Uncle had to step in.’

‘After your mum died.’ It wasn’t a question, but Lan Wangji still nodded. ‘Well, I suppose if he had to take care of you and Xichen...’ Wangji shook his head. ‘… no?’

‘Father withdrew. Wanted nothing more to do with us.’

‘Oh. I mean, what?’ Wei Ying shook his head, he sort of wondered if he’d misheard or if perhaps the pain in his hand and the painkillers were interfering. ‘He what? Didn’t want you anymore?’

‘Relationship has always been difficult between father and us,’ said Wangji. ‘I saw him perhaps seven times in my life. As far as I can recall.’ Wei Ying felt his jaw drop. ‘Xichen knew him better. It was very hard on him.’

‘For fuck’s sake,’ Wei Ying muttered. ‘How are you two so normal?’

‘We are normal?’ said Wangji. The slight furrow of his brow could best be interpreted as ‘are you fucking kidding me right now’?

‘Well, I kind of mean: how are you not completely bonkers? Your mum died, your dad… Wait, hang on: how did your dad die? Not in that same car crash?’

‘No. Died in a fire. He lit it himself.’

Wei Ying swallowed with difficulty. ‘And here I was thinking my childhood sucked,’ he muttered.

Wangji shrugged. ‘I hardly remember mother or father. I had Uncle and Xichen. Ge-ge was older, he had more memories. Had to take care of me too.’ He paused. ‘Am starting to wonder if I know more than he thought I knew, or less than I should.’

‘You what-now?’

Lan Wangji shook his head. ‘Not important. Wei Ying: I can come back from Cloud Recesses whenever I wish. As often as duty permits.’

‘So, you mean, you could visit.’

‘Yes.’

‘Could I? Come to Cloud Recesses, I mean?’

Lan Wangji had to think about that. ‘Only cultivators visit. But Nie Mingjue is correct, the sect is guarded. Perhaps has been for too long.’

‘What are you saying?’

‘Gusu-Lan sect is highly monocratic,’ said Wangji. ‘Council of Elders serves only as an advisory committee.’

‘You mean the sect leader decides.’

‘Mn.’

‘Which would be you.’

‘Correct.’

‘So you could, like. Hand out visitor’s passes.’

Lan Wangji made a sound that made Wei Ying’s heart race.

‘Wangji. Was that a chuckle ?’

‘Perhaps.’ That was most definitely a smile, tugging at the corners of his mouth. Wei Ying wanted to bend over and kiss him.

‘Oh fuck,’ he said, and realised he said the words out loud. Double fuck.

‘What is it?’

‘This is really… awful. Timing-wise.’ Wei Ying rubbed his face with his one hand. ‘Do you remember when I said I had something to tell you?’

‘Mn, no. But Wei Ying texted as much.’

‘Yeah.’ He sighed out. ‘I had just… sort of come to a realisation.’

‘Mn?’

Wei Ying looked at Lan Wangji and thought about what he wanted to say. I realised I’m actually in love with you. Could he say that? Fuck, no. Just look at him , Wei Ying thought. There’s just no way a guy like that could still be single if he weren’t one hundred percent ace.

‘Just that… I would really miss you if you went to live in Cloud Recesses. And I would really like to come visit you, as often as I can. If you want that too.’

‘I would,’ said Wangji. ‘But Wei Ying did not know I would return to Cloud Recesses when he wrote that he wished to tell me something.’

Busted.

‘That. That doesn’t seem important any more.’

‘Wei Ying.’

‘Yes, Lan Wangji?’

The other man remained silent for a long time. ‘My title is Hanguang-Jun,’ he said slowly.

‘Hanguang-Jun?’

‘Birth-name Lan Zhan.’

‘Lan Zhan.’

‘Call me that.’

‘You mean Hanguang-Jun…?’

‘No. Lan Zhan.’

‘Lan Zhan.’

‘Yes, Wei Ying?’

‘No, I mean. I was just trying it out.’ Wei Ying smiled. ‘It’s pretty.’

‘Mn.’ A pause. ‘Wei Ying is pretty too.’

It took a while for that comment to land in Wei Ying’s brain. ‘Did you just say…?’

‘Mn.’ Lan Wangji – Lan Zhan – nodded. ‘Wei Ying is pretty.’

‘You mean my name is…?’

‘No. Yes.’ Lan Zhan was blushing: a very light shade of pink tip-toing over his cheekbones. ‘Has Wei Ying had enough to eat?’

‘Lan W… Lan Zhan. You can’t say thinks like that...’ Wei Ying swallowed with difficulty.

‘This one apologizes.’ The other man rose and began clearing the table. When Wei Ying tried to get up, Lan Zhan pushed him back down on his seat, with a gentle hand on his shoulder. ‘Wei Ying should rest.’

Wei Ying didn’t protest . He slumped back into his chair, looked at the most beautiful man to ever have graced the earth cleaning up the dishes and sluggishly thought to himself: Holy macarons. He thinks I’m pretty .

He was sure he was hallucinating when he saw Lan Xichen enter Pan in a wave of blue and white, like some kind of angelic figure on a short stop from heaven. He was followed by Nie Mingjue in his reassuringly normal jeans-and-leather-jacket-combo. Lan Wangji – who was placing the dishes in the dishwasher behind the counter – looked up at his brother in surprise.

‘I had nothing else to wear,’ Lan Xichen said, smiling apologetically. ‘Hello, Wei Ying.’

‘Hi,’ said Wei Ying. ‘Laundry day?’

Lan Xichen chuckled. ‘These are my sect robes,’ he said. ‘I stayed over at Wangji’s last night, I forgot to bring other clothes.’

‘Oh.’ Wei Ying didn’t know what to say. Then it came to him that this meant Lan Wangji – Lan Zhan – would sometimes be wearing similar clothes and the idea of it made him feverishly hot. Imagine getting to peel those layers off, one by one…

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and realised it would be in his own best interest not to think about Lan Zhan in sect robes right now and not rise from his chair in the next few minutes. Th ose two should be illegal.

‘Why are you here, ge-ge?’ asked Lan Wangji.

‘The delivery-truck will arrive at ten.’

‘Will take care of that.’

‘And I heard about Wei Ying’s injury.’

‘Taken care of,’ said Wei Ying, holding his arm up to show his bandage. ‘High as a kite and dressed to impress. As in wound dressing. Haha, that was a joke.’

‘But you can’t possibly bake with one hand? We’ll have to come up with some solution...’

‘Will make a round of calls later today,’ said Wangji, walking up to his brother. ‘Brother should go home. Think about what he wants.’

‘I want to talk to you.’ Lan Xichen reached out to take his brother’s hands in his. ‘I want to apologize for… for the unannounced announcement I made yesterday. I may have mixed feelings about becoming sect leader, but that does not mean I want you to carry that load for me.’

‘We should talk,’ Wangji agreed. ‘But not now. Think about it first. I will too.’

‘Are you not… not at all mad at me, Wangji?’

‘Mn. No. Surprised, yes.’ Lan Wangji pressed his brother’s hands. ‘We will talk. Tomorrow?’

‘Tomorrow?’

‘Have dinner at my place. Yes? And we can talk.’

Lan Xichen nodded and lowered his gaze to the floor. Suddenly, he looked like the younger brother, despite the regal robes and the difference in height. That idea became even more prominent in Wei Ying’s mind when Lan Wangji brought his hand to Xichen’s head, placed it against the other man’s temple and gently kissed his forehead.

‘Go home, brother,’ said Wangji. ‘Let me take care of this day for you.’

‘I’ll make sure he gets pampered,’ said Nie Mingjue. ‘Here. Your keys.’ He handed them back to Lan Wangji.

‘Thank you, Nie Mingjue.’ Lan Wangji waited for him to escort his brother out of Pan, then turned to Wei Ying. ‘What would Wei Ying like to do now?’

‘Honestly? Go back to bed. Those painkillers are making me feel weird in the head.’

‘Shall I take Wei Ying home?’ Lan Wangji paused. ‘Or would Wei Ying like to come home with me?’

Chapter Text

Technically, Wei Ying had never answered his question. He didn’t say anything much, really, which was rather unusual for Wei Ying. Lan Wangji suspected it had something do with the early hour and the painkillers.

Perhaps it was Wei Ying’s silence that had lend him the brawn to ask such an audacious thing. The echo of his own words in his mind made the shell of his ears burn red hot. Or perhaps not the words themselves, but what he meant to say by them.

He hadn’t just suggested he bring Wei Ying home. He’d suggested he’d take Wei Ying home to sleep. In his house. Indicating there would be a bed involved.

And he hadn’t specified which bed. Wei Ying hadn’t asked.

The strangest thing about the whole situation was the fact that he did not feel nerve-wrecked. He walked Wei Ying to his apartment as if suspended in a dream-state, one half of him afloat, the other half very much aware of his surroundings and keeping a close eye on Wei Ying. During the odd hour they had spent at Pan, Caiyi City had come to life, and they passed honking cars, groups of children and teenagers on their way to school, many commuters, people walking their dogs on the small strips of grass along busy roads. At some point, two running kids threatened to break him and Wei Ying up, and Lan Wangji reached for Wei Ying’s unharmed hand and grabbed it. Wei Ying looked at their hands in surprise, but he did not let go.

Lan Wangji did not release Wei Ying’s hand until he had to, because he needed to dig his fingers into his pocket to find his keys. He mourned the loss immediately and grabbed Wei Ying’s hand again, firmly, before leading him up the stairs.

He never took the elevator – taking the stairs was a habit – but he did not realize it was unusual for most people to take six flights of stairs effortlessly until he was met with Wei Ying’s laboured panting after the third one. Then he just led the other man to the elevator and let it take them further up.

He opened the door to his apartment, led Wei Ying inside and closed the door behind them. His brother had taken the trouble to turn the guest bed back into a couch again, and had folded the used sheets and blanket neatly.

‘Do you need help with your coat?’ asked Lan Wangji. Wei Ying nodded, as expected. He’d needed some help to get into his coat too. So Lan Wangji helped him take it off, carefully, and would have helped Wei Ying with his shoes as well if he hadn’t just kicked them off himself.

It wasn’t until now that Lan Wangji noticed a blush had crept up on Wei Ying’s cheeks. It looked very good on him. Wei Ying’s complexion was a bit darker than that of himself – which wasn’t that strange: he and his brother were remarkable pale – and the added ruddiness complimented the rosy tint of his lips.

‘Lan Zhan,’ said those lips.

‘Yes, Wei Ying?’

‘You are staring.’

‘Does it make Wei Ying uncomfortable?’

Wei Ying opened his mouth, closed it again. Lan Wangji took that as a confirmation and tore away his gaze. ‘The couch is convertible,’ he said. ‘Can be turned into a bed. But if Wei Ying wants, he can sleep in my bed instead.’

The glow on Wei Ying’s face blossomed even more. It made Lan Wangji’s heart race so loudly he felt it must be audible to Wei Ying. Like the steady beat of a drum, a basso continuo. Wei Ying was truly breathtaking.

‘You’re not taking advantage of a poor, defenceless cook, are you?’ The attempt at a grin marked those words as a jest, but they failed completely. Wei Ying sounded tense. Lan Wangji shook his head.

‘No, Wei Ying. Am merely concerned for you. Want to take care of you.’ He paused, and waited for his words to land with Wei Ying. ‘Yes?’

Wei Ying nodded slowly. ‘Okay.’

‘Couch or bed?’

‘Bed.’

‘Mn.’ Lan Wangji took Wei Ying’s unhurt hand in his and led him to his bedroom, behind the pink door.

His brother had apparently also taken Wangji’s pillow and duvet back to his own bedroom and made the bed for him. The kindness of it made Lan Wangji soar internally. It was these little signs of affection, of diligence, that made him love his brother so much.

Wei Ying asked: ‘Should I err… I don’t know. Undress?’

‘Only if Wei Ying wants to.’ He suddenly felt a bit uncertain himself: was this the wrong thing to do? Wei Ying was, in a manner of speaking, intoxicated, and he was leading him into his bed. Not with the intention of – For the love of something holy, no! - but still. He did not want Wei Ying to get the wrong idea. He wanted to reach out to the other man, but didn’t know how.

‘Wei Ying?’ He waited for him to look him in the eye. ‘If Wei Ying wants to leave, he is always free to do so.’

He opened and closed his mouth again, before replying. ‘Yes. I know.’

‘Yes?’

‘I mean, I’m...’ He visibly struggled for words. ‘I want to be here. I’m really flattered. And a bit… bewildered, I think?’

‘Bewildered?’

‘I don’t want to sleep with you,’ Wei Ying suddenly blurted. ‘I mean, not now. Not yet. I mean, I meant… fuck...’ He took a deep gulp of air, as if trying to steady himself but failing.

‘Calm,’ said Lan Wangji. ‘Breathe.’

Wei Ying took a few more slow breaths, tried again. ‘It’s just going to be about sleeping, right?’

Lan Wangji nodded. ‘Wei Ying said he was tired.’

‘Okay. That’s good.’

‘Does Wei Ying want to change into something comfortable?’

‘I…’ He didn’t finish his sentence. The flush crept right back up to his face, this time colouring all of his face.

‘Wei Ying doesn’t have to...’ Wei Ying’s left hand plucked at the clasp of his belt and pulled the end of it through, and Lan Wangji forgot what he was trying to say. He just stared wordlessly as Wei Ying, mesmerizingly slow – or was that just in his head? - undid his belt, then the button of his jeans. He paused.

‘Just sleeping, right?’ His voice sounded a little hoarse. It sent a shiver down Lan Wangji’s spine.

‘Whatever Wei Ying wants,’ he breathed.

Wei Ying wetted his bottom lip, then drew the zipper down and stepped out of his jeans, quickly turned and slipped underneath the duvet, granting Lan Wangji only about a second to see his lower body outlined in his boxer briefs. It was enough for Lan Wangji to register the notable bulge at Wei Ying’s front and the gentle curve of his backside.

He felt light-headed. As if Wei Ying had somehow passed the effects of the painkillers onto him. Therefore it took him a moment to realize Wei Ying was looking at him intently. He blinked and slightly cocked his head in question.

‘Aren’t you joining me?’ Wei Ying asked timidly.

Something short-circuited in Lan Wangji’s brain. He hadn’t actually thought about that. Take Wei Ying to his house, so he could take care of him, that was the plan. Let Wei Ying take his bed, so he could keep an eye on him as he slept and tend to his needs when he woke, that sounded perfect. Wei Ying in his bed, in just his underwear and a t-shirt, that was more than he could have wished for, still very much a bonus and certainly a good thing in his book.

Wei Ying in his bed, in his underwear and a t-shirt, next to him…

Lan Wangji couldn’t breathe. His trousers felt unbearably tight, all of a sudden.

Wei Ying sat up. ‘Lan Zhan.’ He scooted over and waved his hand. ‘Hey. Breathe!’ He grabbed Lan Wangji’s hand and the other man responded as he’d been punched, and gasped for air. Wei Ying released a manic giggle.

‘This was not the plan, huh?’

No sound vacated Lan Wangji’s mouth until he swallowed and tried again. ‘No plan.’

‘Then what were you asking for? Did you really just…?’

‘Want to take care of Wei Ying,’ he sputtered. ‘I… Wei Ying is...’ He faltered.

‘Come on, silly,’ said Wei Ying, and he pulled Lan Wangji’s hand – which Lan Wangji didn’t even realize he was still holding. ‘Get in.’

He nodded. Needed to take his hand out of Wei Ying’s in order to take off his blazer. Then boldly decided to lose his trousers as well. He’d already undone the buttons when he realized the physical response his body was conveying for what it was.

Hi s penis was hard.

For Wei Ying.

The blood rushed to his face so swiftly it almost surprised him there was some left to sustain his erection. How on earth had he not realised this sooner? How was it that his brain hadn’t picked up on the fact that his body wanted to have sex with Wei Ying? Was the communication between his physique and his psyche truly that poor?

‘Would Wei Ying look away, please?’ he stuttered.

A short hesitation. ‘Ah, sure.’ Wei Ying did as requested, and Lan Wangji dropped his trousers next to Wei Ying’s. He cupped his own flesh for a second and very nearly groaned, but somehow managed to keep the sound to himself. Yes, very hard indeed. He quickly slipped under the blanket, next to Wei Ying, but making sure not to touch him.

Wei Ying looked back. Grabbed the reading pillow and placed it under his head, then turned on his side to look at Lan Wangji.

‘Are you okay?’

Lan Wangji just nodded. ‘You?’ he croaked.

‘I think so.’ Wei Ying looked around the room. ‘Did you paint this room as well?’

‘Mn.’

‘It’s pretty. I’ve always liked cherry blossom trees.’ He paused. ‘Thank you, Lan Zhan.’ He placed his right hand on the duvet, palm up, inviting.

Lan Wangji put his hand in Wei Ying’s. Their fingers linked. Thumbs stroked softly. It was good. He felt like he could breathe a little more freely.

‘Lan Zhan?’

‘Mn?’

‘You’ve never been in bed with someone before?’

Lan Wangji knew Wei Ying’s question didn’t include his brother, or his parents. Or so he assumed. Wei Ying meant romantically.

Right ?

‘Never with someone I...’ He paused. ‘Had romantic interest in.’

‘Have you ever had romantic interest in someone before?’

Lan Wangji shook his head, didn’t trust his voice.

Wei Ying smiled. ‘Do you remember that I wanted to say something earlier? Something I had to tell you about but then said wasn’t important?’

‘Mn?’

‘It was. Very important.’ Wei Ying’s voice had turned to soft it was nearly a whisper. ‘I think I’m in love with you.’

His breath was constricted again. His fingers squeezed around Wei Ying’s. ‘I think. Me too.’

‘You too?’

‘In love with you.’ He felt like crying. It was so strange. ‘Wei Ying.’

Wei Ying smiled again. Sweetly. Leaned over to Lan Wangji and pressed a small kiss on his forehead. ‘Shall we try and sleep?’

Lan Wangji knew he was never going to be able to, but he nodded anyway.

‘I think you and I should take this slow, yes? Since this is new to you.’ Wei Ying squeezed back into Lan Wangji’s hand. ‘Is this still good?’

‘Very good.’

‘Alright.’ Wei Ying lowered his head on the reading pillow again. Lan Wangji just looked at him, feeling light-headed again, but in a good way. His fingers were between Wei Ying’s and Wei Ying’s fingers between his, and it felt so reassuring. So absolutely wonderful.

Somehow, he drifted away in his head space, and without realising how or when it had happened, suddenly found himself looking at Wei Ying as he slept. He looked even more beautiful that way, with his mouth slightly opened, his eyes closed. It warmed Lan Wangji’s heart.

He completely forgot about the delivery. Later that afternoon, he managed to get a hold of the distributor, apologized profusely, and because it was the first time something like this had happened, the lady of the planning desk arranged for another delivery to be made at seven ‘o clock the next morning.

Normally, Lan Wangji might have been upset about his schedule being disrupted. But to have Wei Ying in his bed, asleep, trusting him and holding his hand as he snored softly, had been well worth the trouble.