Chapter Text
“Are you sure you are okay? You have a place to live, right?”
“I keep telling you,” Nie Mingjue leans back. “I made 2 million last year, and I got a 200 million bonus also. I have a car and house, too.”
“Are you married?”
Nie Mingjue glares. “No.”
“Why?” Lan Xichen frowns. “That’s not good. You’re over 30.”
“You are also over 30, uncle,” Nie Mingjue rolls his eyes.
Lan Xichen shakes his head. “That’s different. Then how come you came here? I thought I told you only to come if you didn’t have –”
“Anywhere to go.” Nie Mingjue completes. “I, I just wanted to see you. And settle my debt.”
“Debt? You have no debt to settle.”
“I have interest!” Nie Mingjue says. “I’ll pay it, whatever it is. This shop is even smaller than the old one. Why don’t I get you a big one, then you can make lots of money.”
“I don’t want it,” Lan Xichen shrugs. “I like my shop. And I don’t want any money from you. How is your brother?”
Nie Mingjue quickly evades the question. “I have to go to work, but here,” he takes out his card. “This is my business card.”
Lan Xichen looks at his card, flipping it over. “SH…venture capital?” It sounds familiar.
“It’s a huge company in the city. If you need a favour, my number is on it, okay?”
Lan Xichen twirls the card in his hands. “Okay.”
When Lan Xichen gets home, he sees his brother surrounded by various printouts, sitting in the middle. He’s murmuring something mindlessly to himself. His uncle walks past, giving him hello and Lan Zhan a disapproving look, and retreats to his room.
“A-Zhan.”
“Welcome, xiongzhang,” Lan Zhan says, not looking up. He arranges the piles and scatters them, again, reaching out and examining them.
“What is all this?”
“All the articles I saved about Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan shows him one. “See, he won the mathematical Olympiad at 13. He even met this famous baseball player,” Lan Zhan smiles. “See? So cool.”
“A-Zhan,” Lan Xichen sits down. “Why are you looking through all these?” Why do you still have them? He thinks.
“I need to find Wei Ying. I am looking for details. Come, xiongzhang, look with me. Something must be there…he wrote his letters in such clean language, he probably lives in the city.”
“A-Zhan,” Lan Xichen purses his lips. “Why the desperation to find him now? How in the world are you going to find him after 15 years? Just think of him as an old friend and move on.”
“I have nothing to move on from. Only good memories of Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan’s eyes remain glued to the newspapers.
“What if he disappoints you? He may not be as impressive as he was then.” He apologises to Nie Mingjue in his head.
“Xiongzhang,” Lan Zhan looks up stubbornly. “Wei Ying is always impressive.”
Lan Xichen sighs. “He may not be interested in you, A-Zhan.” He regrets it immediately once he sees Lan Zhan’s face fall.
“Then I will ask him to give me one day. Just one day, so he can come with me to the party. He will be so good that even father cannot look down on him.” Lan Zhan mutters.
Lan Xichen widens his eyes. “A-Zhan. What did you say?” Lan Zhan looks away and falls silent. “Wangji,” Lan Xichen says sternly. “What is this about, father?”
Lan Zhan looks down. “The other day…I went to see him at Sandbox. Please don’t tell Uncle.”
“He’s in China?” Lan Xichen looks at his hands. He takes a deep breath. “How is he?”
Lan Zhan shakes his head and goes back to his papers. “I just need to find Wei Ying. So I can prove to him that my life isn’t what he thinks it is. I have to win.”
“You want to win against father?” Lan Xichen says. “A-Zhan, you have a good life. Does it matter what he says? Do you care if you lose to him?”
“Yes!” Lan Zhan snaps. “Because if I don’t, it’ll look like he won because we chose Mama.”
Lan Xichen sighs and looks away, looking at the picture of his mother on the mantle. You were right, he thinks. I shouldn’t have lied to him for so long. “A-Zhan,” he says softly. “What exactly did you tell father?”
“You said you didn’t want me to give you anything and show up at my office for a favour a day later? Lan Xichen,” Nie Mingjue sighs. “What happened?”
Lan Xichen stares wilfully at the table and looks up. “I need you to find Wei Ying.”
“Huh?” Nie Mingjue jerks back. “Wei Ying? Like,” he lowers his voice, “that one from the letters? We made him up!”
“I know,” Lan Xichen says, deeply troubled. “But my brother – he’s gone and done something we need to fix!”
“What in the world did he do?”
“I don’t want him to think I’m miserable or that I regret choosing her. I don’t. I don’t regret choosing Mama, even for one second, xiongzhang,” Lan Zhan says, gripping onto his papers. “We were so – I was so happy. I can’t convince him of this. Not like this.”
“A-Zhan -”
“All I want is one day. I don’t want to win the lottery or be rich like him. I just want one day where I can pretend to be successful, so he knows that I don’t envy him at all. I just want one day.”
Lan Xichen sighs, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. “One day.”
“Okay,” Nie Mingjue sighs. “I must ask. Your brother…is he mentally challenged?”
“What? No,” Lan Xichen says, affronted. “A-Zhan is a good boy, like you.”
“What kind of good boy spins an insane story like that? How does he lie so much?”
“A-Zhan doesn’t think it’s a lie – he thinks Wei Ying is completely real. Plus, our father… tends to bring out the worst in him.” Lan Xichen bites his lip. “Please help me. Please, find him.”
“How am I supposed to find a kid from a newspaper 15 years ago?! He’s a grown man; doesn’t he have any exes he can take?” Nie Mingjue groans.
“He doesn’t have any exes….” Lan Xichen whispers.
“What? Isn’t he 28?” Nie Mingjue gawks. “You’re telling me he’s never dated, anyone?”
“It’s this Wei Ying’s fault,” Lan Xichen sighs.
“Hey, Wangji,” the man leans over. “Are you free this Saturday? I got us these tickets -”
“Go by yourself.” Lan Zhan says, immediately walking away.
“He’s presumptuous, brother. He booked the tickets without even asking me. Wei Ying is a lot more patient and polite. He wrote me letters with so much care.”
“This movie was good.” Lan Zhan says, carefully folding his popcorn carton to throw away.
“It was pretty okay, considering –”
“I am leaving.”
“He didn’t know how to communicate. His opinions were terrible. Wei Ying would have liked the movie and agreed with me.”
“Wangji,” Lan Qiren says, “my friend from church said her son liked you; I gave him your number.”
Lan Zhan places his phone on the couch. “He messaged me. We will never meet again.”
“Huh? What did he say?” Lan Qiren looks at the phone, concerned.
“His messages are riddled with spelling and grammatical errors. Wei Ying’s grammar was always perfect, even in school.”
“Your letters set his standards too high,” Lan Xichen looks off into space.
“Don’t blame me for this!” Nie Mingjue snaps. “God. What a mess,” he looks at how Lan Xichen stares helplessly into his hands, and he sighs again. “Fine, I’ll find him.”
“Oh, thank you,” Lan Xichen hugs him. Nie Mingjue sighs and begrudgingly hugs him back. “You have three days.”
“Three days?”
Lan Zhan’s jacket is still fraying when he gets into work, and he’s presented with nothing short of a stampede.
“What is happening?” he asks the young girl at the counter, walking behind to put on an apron. “The people at the corporate office said you needed all hands here.”
“Sun Tea had a fire, and ten tour groups needed to have their stop here!” The young girl says, shaking the cash register. The crowd goes wild. “And two of the card machines have stopped working! Please help! I think there are almost a thousand people outside!”
“Okay,” Lan Zhan says, ringing the bell. “Single file line, everyone.” He calls out, and no one listens. “I need to take your orders.” Immediately, a long wave of tourists starts yelling at him in various languages. “Okay,” Lan Zhan says and takes a deep breath.
He holds his fingers and raises them to his lips. “Shush.”
It has no effect.
Lan Zhan takes the mic from the pick-up counter and leans into it, “Shush!” There’s a sudden long, pregnant pause, and then a foreigner in a green coat starts laughing.
The laughter continues through the crowd, enough for the mood to lighten, this time, there’s a bit less resistance when he asks for the single-file line. With two card machines down, he decides he’s the only one taking orders, and he puts the music on loud as people begin to gather around him.
“Leave the orders to me,” Lan Zhan turns to the three girls behind the counter. “Let’s go.”
“Where’s the bathroom?”
“Second floor to your left.”
“There’s no cinnamon in this.”
“Sorry, Madam, I’ll get that fixed for you.” Swipe.
“Is there milk tea?” A confused Japanese tourist says.
“There are three types of milk tea, one with ginger, one with rose, one with cinnamon.” Swipe.
“Wow,” the girl says. “He speaks English and Japanese too?”
“Are you a model? Can I have your number?”
Lan Zhan traces a heart on the cup next to it. It’s a fake number. Swipe.
“Have we lost some of the crowd?” the oldest of the girls says, desperately emptying ice into the cups. Swipe.
“We haven’t,” Lan Zhan says. Swipe. “Here you go, sir, your iced tea,” Swipe. “We’ve gone through the half.”
“What?” she says, rushing the tray across. Swipe. “Already?”
“Shush,” another American tourist laughs. Swipe.
“Go faster,” Lan Zhan says. Swipe. “Your cake, Miss.” Swipe.
“You idiot!” a man yells, stomping over to the counter. “This is vanilla! I ordered chocolate! You’re pathetic, do your job right!”
Lan Zhan turns his head and gives him a deadly look. “Get the hell out of my store.”
There’s a loud cheer from the crowd as the man cowers away. Swipe. “Here’s your extra milk.” Swipe. “Enjoy the whipped cream.” Swipe. “Three peach teas and one chai, here you go.” Swipe.
“We’re going to beat the sales record today! Thank you, Mr Lan, you saved us!” The girl bows.
“Thank you for coming to Chantilly,” Lan Zhan cracks a smile. Swipe.
“I heard you beat the Sales Record at our 54th branch,” The HR Manager shakes his hand. “Very impressive – and I heard you held a cool head throughout.”
“Thank you, sir,” Lan Zhan bows his head.
“Let’s talk this week, okay?” He smiles.
Lan Zhan raises his eyebrows. “Of course, sir.”
Nie Mingjue walks into his office, still worn down from his conversation with Lan Xichen. How is he meant to find Wei Ying in three days? One is already over, and he’s made no progress. To find him from a newspaper article – it’s unreasonable. He should never have agreed to write those letters.
That Lan Wangji, too – what kind of person has he made Nie Mingjue out to be? A year’s worth of letters, and he can’t let it go. He’d feel smug if it weren’t for the unfortunate situation this has put him in.
But he has to do it for Lan Xichen. He will find Wei Ying no matter what.
“You’re still here,” he sees his assistant, sitting in the dark, his face illuminated with the computer screen. “Zonghui.”
“Yes, the Yeong-sil project has kept me going, sir.” He says. As impassive and amateur as Zonghui is, Nie Mingjue finds that he has become a trusted confidant in the workplace. “It has taught me now to rely on data instead of what I think would work.”
“Good,” Nie Mingjue says. “Well, good on you for working late. While you’re here, try and find this kid,” he says, dropping the file of printouts on his desk.
“Wei Ying, the youngest winner of the Mathematical Olympiad.” Zonghui reads. “This is from 15 years ago? Sir, you know this boy?”
“Don’t ask questions, just find him.” From the corner of his eyes, he sees Zonghui sigh.
“Hm,” he says, looking at it. “His courtesy name is Wei Wuxian? That’s a bit familiar.” Nie Mingjue observes. It couldn’t be…? “Wait,” Zonghui begins typing furiously. “Oh – I knew it.”
“You found him?” Nie Mingjue moves near his desk.
“He’s been sending us business plans for months. He’s the CEO of a start-up called Yunmeng Heroes. They’re extremely premature, and both his background and business plan are nonsensical.”
Nie Mingjue grabs his coat and briefcase. “Text me his number and the address. Send me his partners’ numbers too.”
“You’re going there now?” Zonghui gets up.
“Yes.”
On the other side of town, a young man leans over at his desk, reading a magazine. “The companion,” he reads out, looking at the man on the page. Nie Mingjue, SH Venture Capital: A companion to start-ups. A Sherpa for young entrepreneurs.
“Wei Ying.”
I wish we had someone like this, he thinks and rips the page out.
“Aish, idiot!” Jiang Cheng slaps the side of his head. Wei Ying whines. “Pay attention!”
“What?” he pouts and throws himself at his sister.
“A-Cheng,” she laughs, stroking his hair, even as she continues working. “Don’t bully him.”
“Jiejie!” Jiang Cheng looks victimised. “He’s zoning out again! Wei Wuxian! Give me your passport number; I need it for the tickets.”
“Tickets to where?” Wei Ying sits up. Jiang Cheng seems to be filling out a form on a website.
“To San Francisco,” Jiang Cheng says. “I entered us into CODA.”
“CODA?” Wei Ying jumps up. “That image recognition competition?”
“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng shrugs. “Now that we have this technology, we should get our names out there. There’s no chance we’ll win, but if we book our tickets now, we’ll get our money back if we cancel.”
“There’s no way we’ll win this,” Wei Ying sighs. “People enter from huge companies every year.”
“Even so,” Jiang Yanli leans back, “even in the one in a billion chance that we win, there will be investors there from all over the world, even from Google and Amazon. They’ll want to invest. We can’t not be there.”
“Jiejie,” Wei Ying looks back at the piece of paper. “We can’t even get investors in China. Before we waste money on flying to America, we should try and get someone like this, see.”
His sister pats him on the head and goes back to work. A car pulls up to the front of the building, and Wei Ying glances outside to see who it is. “Fuck!” he yells. “Lights off! Lights off! Get down on the ground.”
Jiang Cheng jumps up and closes the blinds, Jiang Yanli sliding across the room to put the lights off. Encased in darkness, all of them fall to the floor, covering themselves with backpacks. “Oh god, we’re screwed,” Jiang Yanli says. “We’re screwed! They’ve come for us.”
“Shh,” Jiang Cheng hisses. “Pretend we aren’t here! Put your phones off!”
“Open the door!” The rattling has them all shaking, and Wei Ying holds his hand over Jiang Cheng’s mouth to stop his heavy breathing.
“Fuck,” Wei Ying closes his eyes. “They’ve come to get their money.”
“Wei Wuxian, open the damn door,” The woman says, banging against it. “Open it! I know you’re in there!”
Jiang Yanli whimpers into her hands. “We’re dead. They’ve come for their money.”
“Jiejie,” Wei Ying holds her wrist. “Stay behind me, okay, I’ll figure this out.”
“I’ve got a key,” the man says, “Stop breaking the door.”
Wei Ying shudders. “They’ve got a key! Pretend to be asleep!”
They lie down, face down until a flashlight is shone in their face. The woman kicks him in the shoulder. “Wake up, you useless piece of shit. We’re here for our money.”
“Oh,” Wei Ying rubs his eyes in feigned exhaustion. “I’m so sorry. We were so tired and fell asleep; we didn’t hear you!”
“Cut the crap,” she glares, her eyes menacing. “I know you were hiding.”
“Get off the ground, all of you,” the man says. “We need to talk about this.”
“Talk?” the woman yells. “We gave you all this time to talk! Get up!
Now!”
The three of them get up, staring at their feet as they do. Jiang Cheng stands there with his head bowed; Jiang Yanli does everything to look in another direction. The woman smacks her umbrella at Wei Ying’s arm. He doesn’t wince.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” She taunts.
“Aunty,” Wei Ying looks up. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry, my ass,” Madam Yu says. “What the hell have you three been doing?”
“Mom -” Jiang Cheng looks up. “Our technology works now! We even entered it in CODA – it’s a huge AI company mom, thousands of companies apply - ”
“How brilliant – you’ve proven yourselves to be as useless as I thought. How many years has it been since you said it would work?”
“I’m sorry, mom,” Jiang Yanli lowers her head. “I know you have been disappointed in us for some time.”
“You three have disappointed me your whole lives.”
Jiang Fengmian pinches the bridge of his nose. “Leave her be. Show us what you made.”
“You’re saying it works,” Madam Yu says. “But if it doesn’t – you can say goodbye to our investment."
Wei Ying blanches – but nods frantically as he sets it up. Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli place the cameras before them, while Madam Yu inspects the room. She looks at the new coffee machine and scowls. “Instant coffee wasn’t enough? Spending our hard-earned money on this nonsense.” She sits down.
“A-Ying,” Jiang Fengmian looks over what he’s coding. “What is this?”
“Ah, Uncle, do you know what image recognition is?”
Jiang Fengmian nods slowly, but Wei Ying is sure he’s not earnest. “It’s like – okay,” he points at the mug. “What is this?”
“A mug,” he says. Wei Ying points at the window. “A window.” Wei Ying points at Jiang Cheng, “and this?”
“The worst mistake of my life,” Madam Yu glares.
Jiang Cheng stares, disappointed, at the computer. Jiang Yanli sighs.
“So with the Yunmeng Heroes technology, we use artificial intelligence to achieve image recognition with extremely high accuracy and speed. This has many uses; it can help with medicine, security, even self-driving cars.”
Jiang Fengmian looks stunned and far more impressed than his wife. “Stop talking about it and show it, now.” Madam Yu snaps.
Wei Ying bites his lip. “Of course, Aunty.” Please work, please work, he begs, and he can almost hear his siblings saying the same thing. Jiang Yanli even has her hands clasped together in prayer. They’ll lose the money if this doesn’t work, he knows, but he puts all his faith in and points the webcam towards the umbrella.
Madam Yu and Jiang Fengmian stare intently at the computer, and every moment feels like torture. Only milliseconds later, the words appear on the screen. Umbrella.
All three of them let out a heavy sigh, and Jiang Cheng claps a hand on his back. “See, mom, we told you it works!” Jiang Yanli smiles. “Our A-Ying is a genius.”
Madam Yu, to his surprise, looks moderately impressed. “You didn’t program it beforehand, did you?” she says, suspicious. Wei Ying shakes his head and hands her the webcam, just now noticing the tremors in his hands.
“Not at all,” he says. “Go ahead and try it, Aunty,” he smiles.
Madam Yu takes the webcam in her hands with disdain but points it at random things. Computer. Fridge. Curtains. Watch. Her children beam at her, and she points it at her daughter.
Face. “It recognises faces, too?” She raises her eyebrows.
“Yes,” Jiang Cheng nods. “And mom, with future updates, it will even be able to detect facial features, the clothes someone is wearing, even license plates on cars.”
“Really?” Jiang Fengmian looks stunned. “Let me see,” he takes the webcam and points it at his wife. They look to the screen with bated breath, and –
Toilet.
“A-Ying,” Jiang Fengmian looks at him, horrified. “Toilet?”
Madam Yu’s nostrils flare in silent, monstrous rage. “What the fuck is this?”
“No, no, something is wrong,” Wei Ying holds the camera to himself. Face. “See, see, it’s fine now!” he points it at Madam Yu. Toilet.
“Mom, mom,” Jiang Cheng raises his hands. “Mom, it’s only a prototype!”
“It’s just an error,” Wei Ying says, jumping back into the code.
“Yes, yes,” Jiang Yanli looks at the computer, “it’s only an error, mom! It won’t be there in the final version!”
Madam Yu slams the laptop shut, narrowly missing Wei Ying’s fingers. “Wei Wuxian,” she says, in a timbre that Wei Ying has heard far too many times. Her hazel eyes gloss over with unfathomable anger. “You’re a dead man.”
After none of them pick up, Nie Mingjue decides to head to the office directly. He can’t believe how easy it was – it’s almost uncanny. He hopes this is the end of it for now – but what Zonghui said did not fill him with confidence. A terrible background and business plan – wasn’t he a genius?
When the phone rings, he presses the button on the dashboard. “Xichen, what happened?”
“I saw your text – you found him already?” he sounds exhausted.
“Yeah.”
“What is he like? Is he like he was before?”
“I’m driving to his office right now,” Nie Mingjue takes a sharp turn, “He owns a start-up. It turns out he’s been sending me emails for months.”
“Wow, good boy. That’s amazing.” Nie Mingjue snorts. “A business owner? A-Zhan will love that.” His face falls.
“Yeah. I’m sure.” He nods, thinking of what Zonghui had said. “I’ll find him, okay? I’ll tell you how it goes.”
“Thank you, Mingjue.” Lan Xichen says before hanging up the phone.
Nie Mingjue drives for another half hour, looking around the area. It’s pretty far away from Sandbox, though he assumes the train wouldn’t take as long. He enters what looks like a middle-class residential area and looks carefully at the houses he’s passing. It doesn’t look like there’s space for an office here – where is this Wei Ying working?
The GPS makes him take a dark turn, entering a shady, narrow lane. He’s worried his car will scratch something, so he moves exceptionally slowly, still surrounded by what looks like low-rent housing. When the GPS says he’s at his location, he looks ahead, puzzled.
“Huh,” Nie Mingjue says, looking at the dilapidated old building he’s landed upon. It seems more like a terrible loft, equipped with a terrace and no parking lot. Perhaps he got the wrong location after all.
He’s ready to reverse and get the hell out, probably to call him once he starts picking up the phone – but from the loft, a man, who looks just under 30, runs out. He runs, screaming, as an older woman chases him, an umbrella in one hand and a slipper in the other, three people following them out.
“I’ll kill you!” the woman screams, and Nie Mingjue locks his car. What kind of crime-laden neighbourhood has he gotten himself into? It looked modest but not so terrible. “I’ll kill you!” she screams again. “You’ve been a curse on my life since the day you walked into my family!”
“Yu Ziyuan!” the older man yells as he chases them to where they are. “Stop it! Leave him alone!”
“This idiot is almost 30 – he lives in our damn house, he doesn’t have a job, he makes some shitty machine that calls me a toilet – ugh! I’ll kill you! How will A-Cheng get a job now, huh? How will A-Li get married?! Who will marry you?!”
“Mom!” another person yells, and Nie Mingjue panics as he can’t reverse the car. The pair of kids on the other side try to drag their mother away. “Mom!” The woman next to him screams. “Mom, stop it! It’s not his fault!”
Nie Mingjue watches as the target of this chaos runs towards him, trips on his tires and lands on his hood. Nie Mingjue jerks in shock, and the man, panicked at the spit stain he’s left on the Porsche, panics and starts wiping it with the sleeve of his dirty flannel.
“I’m sorry!” he says desperately, his long, messy hair covering most of his face. Half his leg is still on Nie Mingjue’s precious car as he wipes desperately. “I’ll pay for it to be cleaned, sorry!” he yells. Nie Mingjue watches in horror as his baby is wiped with that rag.
“A-Ying!” The young woman calls out in distress. “A-Ying, watch out!”
Nie Mingjue’s face goes white as this young man is pressed face-first onto this windshield, struggling to breathe as the woman screaming holds him by the collar. He can barely look as he gets hit with the slipper repeatedly, and Nie Mingjue covers his face to not be witness to the horror befalling his car.
“You ruined my life!” The woman screeches, pressing his face harder onto the car. It would be comical, the way his face morphs into ugly, flattened shapes on his windshield, the way his arms flail cartoonishly, the three others desperately trying to pull the assailant away. But what he hears next drains all remaining colour in his world.
“You idiot! You useless fucking idiot, Wei Ying! You’ve ruined our family!”
Nie Mingjue stares, open-mouthed, at the main pressed face-first into the glass. “Wei Ying,” he says helplessly. “Wei Ying.” He almost laughs as the man’s face leaves spit and fog and prints all over his car. He laughs, finally pressing his forehead into the horn, loud enough for all of them to move away.
He finally reverses out of the alley, saying “Wei Ying” between manic and shortened laughs.
“Wei Ying,” he laughs a final time before his face goes blank - falling into the equivalent of a long, straight line.
“We’re fucked.”
“We’re fucked,” Nie Mingjue says, stabbing his spoon into his ice cream.
“I don’t understand,” Lan Xichen frowns. “He was so intelligent.”
“Intelligence only gets you so far, Xichen; he’s a loon. His mom was chasing him with a slipper.”
“Oh, dear. What are we going to do?”
“Is the dad not agreeing to give anything, either?” Jiang Yanli says, clearing up some of the mess from the last night.
“I don’t want to ask. I don’t even know what aunty will do to him.” Wei Ying places his head in his hands. He’s ruined everything. He’s ruined it again.
“Don’t mind your aunty, Wei Ying.” Jiang Uncle had said, after the panic of last night. “You know how she gets. Things are a bit tight right now.”
“I understand, Uncle. I’m sorry,” he looks down, “I have created trouble for you again.”
His uncle gives him a kind, sad smile. “Don’t worry, okay? Everything will be okay. You were so brilliant, after all.” He raises his hand to stroke his hair. “Our little genius.”
Wei Ying would never admit it, but hearing those words hurt a thousand times more than anything Madam Yu ever did. Why isn’t it working, A-Ying? You were so brilliant. So intelligent – even at such a young age…
“Why the fuck did it say toilet, Wei Wuxian?” Jiang Cheng says in disdain. “They’re going to laugh at us at CODA.”
“You worked on it too,” Wei Ying bites back. Jiang Cheng stands up, but their sister, ever the peacemaker, physically pushes them back onto the sofa.
“Stop it,” she says sternly. “You no longer have time for fights like this. It was a bug – we’ll fix it. Bugs are going to happen with software, A-Cheng.” Jiang Cheng frowns stubbornly but nods. “But now, we have to focus on money. We have none.”
Wei Ying sighs. “Okay – so for now, we can survive with only the most essential. We need money for rent, the server, and the internet, right? At least till next month. We can make that.”
“How?” Jiang Cheng says, defeated. “Do we get jobs as delivery boys again?”
“We don’t have time for that,” Jiang Yanli says. “We finally have some momentum with the image recognition; we can’t split our time.”
“Maybe we can sell the AC?” Wei Ying looks up. He takes out his phone, opening up the second-hand store app. “That will give us just about enough for rent and a few days of the internet.”
“You want us to die in the summer? It’s bad enough the heater doesn’t work; we spent winter in four jackets. You can’t make us go through the heat without it.” Jiang Cheng crosses his arms.
“We won’t make it to the summer without selling it,” Wei Ying takes a photo of the AC. Jiang Cheng sighs but nods eventually. “What else can we sell?”
“I can sell my bike. We can share one again, Wei Ying.” Oh god, that was hell. He can’t share a bicycle with Jiang Cheng again.
“How will A-Cheng get a job now?”
“Okay.” Wei Ying says. “We can sell the X-Box, too,” He says. Jiang Cheng’s eyes nearly tear up, but he begrudgingly agrees. “Come on, then. Let’s pawn off enough stuff to pay off the server fees.”
They post something for the coffee machine – the bike, the wireless headphones, the AC, the x-box. None of them own any high-ticket luxury items, so even those only make up so much. The helmet, an old camera, an old laptop bag.
“Oh!” Jiang Yanli says, “Granny gave me wedding jewellery five years ago – that must be worth a lot, right?”
“Jiejie!” Wei Ying says. How will A-Li get married now? You ruined her chance once, already. “No, you aren’t selling that.”
“Absolutely not; I’ll sell my hair before you do,” Jiang Cheng shakes his head. Jiang Yanli sighs.
“But this is probably the most expensive thing we have – it’s real gold.”
Wei Ying shakes his head. “No, you can’t. You save that for your wedding, jiejie,” he turns around to see what else they can scrounge up. His eye lands on something, and he quickly takes a photo.
“No way – you’re selling the Yin Yijun baseball!” Jiang Cheng’s mouth is agape. “You’ve had that since we were kids.” He has. It’s possibly his most prized possession – the famous baseball player had signed it for him right after he won the Mathematical Olympiad at 13. The tickets were a gift from the Educational Society of Yunmeng, and they excited him even more. It was even in the local newspaper, then.
“It’s okay,” Wei Ying smiles, zooming in on the photograph. Follow your dream, the baseball says, right above the autograph. “I’m not so attached to it!” he lies. “It will get us a pretty penny too, huh?”
“A-Ying, you don’t have to sell it – I’m sure if we go back to mom when she’s in a good mood, maybe after poker -”
“No, jiejie,” Wei Ying shakes his head. “We’ve all made sacrifices.” You left a well-paying job for this company; he looks at Jiang Cheng. You sold the car you had worked so hard to buy. “I’m sure it’ll be the first thing to sell.”
Lan Zhan receives the final invite for his father’s party on his way to work.
This means this is his last opportunity to find Wei Ying. And find him – he will. He does a clean sweep of every social media possible, reaches what looks like the last page on Google.
Nothing. The man lives without a trace.
“Luckily, if I couldn’t find him, I can guarantee that Lan Zhan won’t,” Nie Mingjue says.
“I mean, isn’t it easy to find people nowadays? I don’t really like social media, so I haven’t looked.”
“Not someone like this,” he shakes his head. “I looked through every possible website. He’s a ghost.”
Lan Zhan’s still looking at his phone when he walks off the bus, and he stops himself in the middle of the sidewalk. “What?” he says, looking at his phone. Baseball signed by Yin Yijun. Seller: Wei Ying.
He almost drops his bag. This – this can’t be him, right? He zooms in and looks at the baseball, the words which say “Follow your dream” in English. He’s downloaded the app before he can think, looking directly at the seller’s information. There’s no description, not even a profile photo, and all contact seems to happen on the app.
There’s a bunch of items up for sale, like an AC, a coffee machine and some personal items, but Lan Zhan clicks once more on the baseball. Genuine autographed baseball I got from Yin Yijun when I was 13. If you need proof, I have more pics. Send me a message ><
Thirteen – didn’t Wei Ying meet a famous baseball player at 13? Lan Zhan has that newspaper article. It has to be. Taking a deep breath, Lan Zhan sends a message to the seller. Hey Wei Ying, it is me. I would like to buy this. Please send proof.
He hopes he recognises him, holding his hand over his heart. It has only been 15 years – he must remember him, right? A few moments later, Lan Zhan’s phone buzzes in his hand, and he’s received a photo from Wei Ying.
There’s a young boy, standing next to the famous baseball player, holding the same ball. Follow your dream. Lan Zhan’s heart stops beating.
It’s the same boy from the newspaper.
Nie Mingjue shrugs. “The only reason I found him is that I’m competent and lucky.”
Lan Xichen nods slowly, a small smile playing on his lips. “I see.” His phone on the table buzzes, and he excuses himself to pick it up. “A-Zhan, hello.”
Nie Mingjue sighs, this poor kid. He’s never going to find Wei Ying now. Lan Xichen must simply tell him the truth. Wei Ying is a nightmare, and despite his insanity, Lan Zhan seems nice and handsome enough. He’ll probably find someone far better – at least he won’t humiliate himself looking for that idiot.
“Really?” Lan Xichen says serenely. “How wonderful.” Nie Mingjue nods. Good, good, something good must have happened. “When will you go? Ah, lunch, okay.” Good, he should eat well. “Well, I hope it works out. Have a good day at work, A-Zhan, bye.” he smiles, hanging up the phone.
“Is he doing okay?” Nie Mingjue says, finishing the last of his ice cream. “Poor thing, it must be hard for him.”
Lan Xichen sighs deeply. “Mingjue.”
“Hmm?”
“It seems that A-Zhan is as capable and lucky as you,” he says, and Nie Mingjue frowns.
“He’s found Wei Ying.”
“190, 200,” Jiang Yanli says, placing the money on the bus seat next to her. “Yeah,” she sighs. “That’s barely going to get us far.”
“I think someone wants to buy the baseball,” Wei Ying says, looking at his phone.
“Already?” Jiang Yanli says. They both lean over to look. Wei Ying puts his phone in front of them.
“Is it just me, or does he sound a little strange?” Wei Ying says, looking at the messages.
“Who the hell is this guy?” Jiang Cheng’s face twists in disgust. “Why does he speak so informally? You guys haven’t met.”
“Do you know him?” Jiang Yanli tilts her head. "How are you? I have missed you so?”
“No idea,” Wei Ying shrugs. “Lan Zhan. What a weirdo. Though, if he’s willing to pay the price I put up, I’ll meet him, even if he’s a crazy stalker.”
“It’s your funeral,” Jiang Cheng shrugs. “He wrote his courtesy name, too? Lan Wangji…wait, why does that sound kinda familiar?”
“Look! It’s Sandbox,” Jiang Yanli says, and all three of them lean over to look outside the window.
“God, imagine if we had an office here,” Jiang Cheng says, almost dreamily. “We would never have to worry about the server cost or rent again.”
“The people look so cool,” Jiang Yanli says. “They’re all so fancy. Do you think we’ll ever make it here?”
Wei Ying looks longingly at the large campus before turning back to his siblings. There are many people outside, wearing headsets with laptops, working on the grass, a large café with tables outside, a large, glass-windowed building. Looking for new members – hackathon 2021! The digital billboard says.
Follow your dream, it says, and a pit falls in his stomach. “Of course, we will,” he says and sends Lan Zhan the location to meet him.
Lan Zhan stares, concentrating on the photo Wei Ying had sent him. He’d practically sprinted from the shop during his lunch break, only stopping to fix a wayward strand of his hair. He’s finally going to meet Wei Ying – finally, after all these years.
Will he be disappointed? He shouldn’t. Lan Zhan has an all right job, but he barely gets over minimum wage, and he’s only on the cusp of becoming a permanent employee – but Wei Ying said that he liked tea once. He should be okay with it. And Lan Zhan may not have gone to college, but he knows he’s smart – he just hasn’t been able to save as much money. The store doesn’t bring as much as it used to, and they had to pay rent.
What if he has a boyfriend? Oh dear, what if he’s married – Lan Zhan would not be able to cope with that. It’s OK, Lan Zhan thinks. Even if he is married to some terrible person, you just wanted to ask for one day. One day, you can pretend to have the life your father never expected you to.
He opens the camera on his phone and rechecks his face, consciously deciding whether or not to place a lock of hair behind his ear. It doesn’t matter; he shrugs. Wei Ying cares not about things like physical appearance. His phone beeps and knocks him out of his conundrum. Where are you?...
I am in the square; Lan Zhan takes a deep breath, shaking his shoulders ever-so-slightly to calm himself down. I am wearing a blue jacket.
I’ll be there in 30 seconds.
Why is he being so formal? Is it because it has been so long? Lan Zhan wonders, typing his next message. I can’t wait to see you.
“Serial killer,” Wei Ying mumbles, looking at his phone. “Either way, he’s here now. Let’s go.” He steps ahead. “He said he’s in a blue jacket.”
Jiang Yanli looks around before she lands on something, smiling a little. “A-Cheng, let’s go get lunch. I’m hungry,” her brother looks at her, puzzled.
“Huh?” Jiang Cheng says. “But we’re giving the baseball to the serial ki-”
“C’mon,” she drags him. “See you at the café, A-Ying! Go quick; he’s probably waiting!”
Jiang Cheng struggles and looks back. Wei Ying stares blankly as his dear siblings and subordinates leave him to face the serial killer.
“That was odd,” he says and turns to face the square. There’s a ton of people around, and he can’t seem to see anyone with the blue jacket. He walks further ahead, looking around once more.
He stops in his tracks. There’s a man in a blue jacket, tall and well-built, looking at his phone, expression unreadable. It has to be him since he looks up and looks around, stopping to look back at Wei Ying.
Wow, Wei Ying thinks. His eyes are a piercing amber, and he stares intensely at Wei Ying, completely ignoring the baseball in his hand. He’s possibly the most handsome man he’s ever seen – and despite the genuine possibility that Wei Ying should stay where he is, he moves forward. He moves forward, every fibre of his being moving him towards this man.
Lan Zhan looks at him, now slightly wide-eyed, with an expression between hope and surprise. Wei Ying walks closer, crossing the boundary before him, almost forgetting why he’s here, too focused on Lan Zhan. It’s like the crowd has gone silent as nothing remains between them but a few more steps.
Someone grabs his arm with a mountain of force, and suddenly Lan Zhan isn’t in front of him, and he’s being dragged along by a tall man in a suit, running towards an alley nearby.
When Wei Ying blinks out of his trace once they stop, the large man is curiously out of breath. “Wei Ying,” he says, hunching over his knees. “Wei Ying, right?”
“Yeah…” Wei Ying says suspiciously, his eyes as wide as saucers when the man stands up straight. “The companion?!” He shouts, shoving his hand in his pocket to retrieve the page. “Nie Mingjue?! A Sherpa to start-ups!” he holds up the page. “Oh my god!” he says. “You got my emails?”
“Yes, yes,” Nie Mingjue pants. “Can we talk for a bit? Let’s go to your office.”
“Of course!” he scrambles. “Of course! Oh gosh, now I know why people call you an angel investor – you fell from the sky! Yes! Wait,” he looks at the page. “Wait, I just need to give this to someone, and we can -” he yelps as he’s yanked back by the collar.
“You’re here to meet Lan Zhan, right?” Nie Mingue says, his hand moving to his wrist. Wei Ying nods – how the hell does he know that? “That’s what I’m here about. Come on, let’s get in my car.”
Sirens go off in Wei Ying’s head, “what? How do you know? Do you know him? Wait – I just need to give him this ball!” his pleas go unanswered, and he’s shoved into the car.
It’s been thirty seconds, Lan Zhan thinks, looking back at his watch.
Wei Ying looks ahead as Nie Mingjue drives, already in the direction of his office. What in the world is this man about?
“Open the glove compartment,” he says, still looking ahead. Wei Ying looks about the car, and Nie Mingjue sighs and opens it for him. Inside, there is a stack of around 50 letters, all in various sizes. “Open one,” he says.
Wei Ying carefully picks one up. To Wei Ying, the sender says. From Lan Zhan. “To Wei Ying? I never got these letters.”
“It’s a long story,” Nie Mingjue sighs. He looks far more frazzled than he looked in the magazine. “They’ve all been written by the person you were about to meet. I’ll explain everything soon; just start reading them.”
Wei Ying quietly looks at the letters, the neat cursive of the little boy’s handwriting, the words too earnest to be false. He opens another, and another, and they’re all the same. “What the fuck,” he whispers, looking at all of them. “Lan Zhan.”
“You want me to quit my job?” Lan Zhan says, looking at the notice. “Why?”
I’m sorry, something urgent came up. Wei Ying’s message had said. Lan Zhan stares at it in disappointment as he walks to the HR Manager’s office. It turns out it wasn’t the worst thing he would see that day.
“You know how it is,” The HR manager smiles. “We can’t lose someone as talented as you. We’ll renew your contract; you just have to take a break in between. We’ll hire you back as soon as we can.”
“You could hire me now.” Lan Zhan says blankly. “As a permanent employee.”
“Ah, Mr Lan, you need to be more qualified for that, aha. You know we look for people who are highly educated. You do not even have a degree.”
“You said I could prove myself in 2 years and be absorbed.”
“Aiya, you know we have to say these things,” he laughs, his face falling once he sees Lan Zhan’s expression. “Be grateful we’ll still have you on as a contract employee. Once you come back, take some time to learn from your seniors. Then, you’ll have the training to be permanent, yeah? Think of it as a vacation, then you’ll come back and learn more,” he says, awfully cheerful.
Learn more. Lan Zhan tightens his grip around his phone. “I will have to learn more.”
The manager, drastically misunderstanding his tone, slides the paper across to him, grinning. “You will pack up in a week, and we’ll see you next month, okay? And here,” He pulls out an envelope. “We would like to offer you this, for beating the sales record,” The HR Manager beams. “Thank you so much for your hard work, Mr Lan!”
Congrats! it reads. You have won a free meal at Chantilly Desserts worth 300 yuan!
“Oh,” he says, looking at it carefully. “Thank you…”
“You’re welcome,” the HR Manager says, grinning. “Have fun, okay?”
He made the company 20,000 Yuan, the highest sales a mid-tier shop like Chantilly could ever make in a day. He’s been a contract employee for years, working in the shops and at times at the corporate office, filling in spreadsheets and picking up sales boards. They have jumped through hoops to avoid making him a permanent employee – even though his initial introduction insisted he could climb through the ranks.
He gets to the roof of the building, watching the people in the streets down below. He rips the gift certificate in half, throwing it up in the air. Bastard, fuck you, he clenches his fist, thinking of his smiling face. Do you think you can fool me twice?
At the worst possible time, his phone buzzes.
I am looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. His father has sent. I hope you are still coming. Believe it or not, I have missed you.
Lan Zhan grits his teeth in anger, throwing his phone in his bag.
“I don’t get it,” Jiang Cheng murmurs, skimming through the letter. “Wei Ying said he didn’t know this Lan Zhan.”
“He didn’t,” Jiang Yanli shakes her head. “But this man, Nie Mingjue, did. He pretended to be A-Ying, and now Lan Zhan likes him. And he thinks Wei Ying likes him back. And now, to upstage his father, Wei Ying, has to go to the networking party, dressed like a hotshot.”
“Hotshot? He’s not capable of that,” Jiang Cheng looks appalled.
“Of course he is….” Jiang Yanli says like she doesn’t quite believe it herself. She looks at her brother with love, but his laid-back wardrobe and hair would pale in comparison to whatever Nie Mingjue would bring.
“So, you aren’t here to invest in our company…” Wei Ying says sadly, still looking at the letters.
“I’m sorry.” Nie Mingjue adjusts himself in his seat, taking a small, disgusted look at the office. “I know this is strange, but I am here since I am deeply indebted to someone. I need your help. It’s only an hour’s work; you just need to pretend to be the boy in these letters.”
“Ahem,” Jiang Cheng stands up. “He’s the CEO of Yunmeng Heroes – my brother doesn’t work for free.”
Nie Mingjue crosses his arms. “Fine. Tell me what you want.”
“Did you even look at our business plan?” Wei Ying looks up. Nie Mingjue nods. “Are you interested in investing?”
“Your company is still at an early stage. Too early for me to invest.” He says, straightforward.
“Really?” Wei Ying asks. “Or do you just think it’s bad?” he asks blankly.
“Look,” Nie Mingjue gives him a stern look. “I’m not here as an investor. I’m asking for a favour – I’m willing to pay for your time; if you aren’t going to do it, I’ll leave.” He says, feeling or his briefcase.
“You say it’s only an hour, but,” Jiang Yanli crosses her arms, seemingly innocent. “It will take him almost a day to get ready for an event like this. A-Ying doesn’t even have anything to wear.”
“His time is precious,” Jiang Cheng adds, “for all this, he’ll need,” he glances at the number 2 his sister is discreetly making with her hands. “Twenty-”
“Twenty-thousand? Fine, it’s yours.” Nie Mingjue shrugs. All three of them gawk at him, Jiang Yanli dropping her hands entirely.
“A-Ying –” she says shakily, “Let’s talk outside for a minute. Mr Nie, please wait here comfortably.” Nie Mingjue could shudder. As if he could feel comfortable in his dump. They exit the loft and go down to the terrace, huddling around each other.
“I feel like we’ve been given a gift from heaven,” Jiang Yanli cries. “Thank you, god!”
“If he’s willing to give 20 thousand so easily, just for one hour – we should take the money and go, right?” Jiang Cheng hisses.
“Listen, you guys,” Wei Ying pulls the page. “He’s a huge venture capitalist! He got a 20 million bonus last year!”
Jiang Yanli gasps, “What?! Oh god, we lowballed him -” she says. “I feel bad for lying to that guy, but still -”
“Our business is on the line, Jiejie!” Jiang Cheng says. “This is the best possible scenario; we have to do it – we have nothing to lose, we have to do it, right, Wei Wuxian?”
The sweet, heartfelt letters of this young boy flash through his mind. The glaringly handsome, hopeful face of the man he saw appears before him. It’s only for an hour. It’s only for the three of us. You’ve ruined your jiejie’s chances at marriage. You’ve destroyed the track of Jiang Cheng’s career. You have to do something. He looks at his expectant siblings, and his sister nods minutely at him. He nods back. “We can do it. Let’s do it!”
“Did he say yes?” Lan Xichen says nervously on the phone.
“Even if he does. Lan Zhan won’t have any use for him,” he walks around the office, rifling through a stack of overdue bills on the table. “He’s clueless and useless.”
“Is it that bad? Goodness,” Lan Xichen cringes. You shouldn’t have lied! Look at the mess you’ve made!
“Don’t worry. I’ll lend him my car, and I’ll clean him up. At least he can pretend for a while, then. He looks easy enough to handle.” Nie Mingjue sighs. He wouldn’t even go so far for anyone, maybe except Huais – he stops his train of thought. “I’ll call you back, Xichen, bye.”
He turns to the three of them. “Will you do it, then?”
“Yes.” Wei Ying says earnestly. “I’ll do my best.”
“Thanks,” Nie Mingjue says. “I really appreciate it.” He takes out his wallet, “I only have this much, right now, but -”
“We don’t want your money,” Wei Ying says, and his siblings turn to gawk at him. “If I do this – and I will, we will need you to please let Yunmeng Heroes into Sandbox. Then, I’ll do everything you say.”
The room goes silent for several seconds. Flabbergasted, Wei Ying’s siblings turn to look at him, horrified. Nie Mingjue chuckles. “Are you insane? I can’t do that. I can’t let you in just because you asked me.” What the hell is wrong with these idiots? “Besides, Sandbox has very high standards.”
“You don’t need to change those standards, just -” Wei Ying takes out that paper again. “Just help us fit those – you said, you said here that the Sherpa act as a guide in the Himalayas -”
“Listen,” he sighs in frustration.
“And you want to be like a Sherpa for start-ups,” the idiot continues. “A companion who -”
“Listen!” Nie Mingjue snaps. “I’m not a damn Sherpa, or whatever. I didn’t say that. Some copywriter wrote that nonsense -”
“- guides and protects entrepreneurs and leads them on the right -” Nie Mingjue yanks the magazine paper out of this hand, crumpling it and throwing it on the floor.
“I’m not your companion! God, I didn’t even say this crap; some two-bit copywriter wrote this. I don’t know what a Sherpa is, and I’m not going to invest in this hellhole, get that?” Nie Mingjue spits. He takes out whatever he has in his wallet and holds it out. “Here. This is all I have – and I know you need the money.”
Wei Ying stares as if he’s tempted but looks back at him, resolute. “We want to enter Sandbox.” He repeats. “We don’t want your money.”
His siblings look down, pained, but neither of them says a word. Nie Mingjue rubs his temples. “Too bad. Even I can’t make that happen.” He says, turning around.
“Are you leaving?” Jiang Yanli says desperately.
“Yes, I’m sorry.” Nie Mingjue takes a final look at this trash heap and turns around to look back at Wei Ying. “You asked me why I didn’t want to invest? I’ve been introduced to over 1000 companies but only invested in 30. Four didn’t even get a follow-up.” He says smugly.
“So what?” Jiang Cheng grumbles. “is that some grand thing?”
“Amongst the start-ups I didn’t invest in, zero succeeded. Not even one,” Nie Mingjue says, looking right into Wei Ying’s eyes. The young man stares back, even if he seems to be fighting off tears. He clenches his fist by his side. “I’d rather not break that record. So, I will never invest in your company,” he walks out, closing the door behind him.
Jiang Cheng kicks a table, sitting down on the floor. “He’s a dick!” he yells, burying his face in his knees. “Why do I feel like he’s right?”
“It was pretty convincing,” Wei Ying says, a quiver in his voice. “I couldn’t even fight back.”
His sister rests a hand on his shoulder.
“It was his opinion,” Jiang Yanli smiles, even though she’s far from happy. “Don’t ever take someone’s opinion as fact, A-Ying.”
On the way back from the train, Lan Zhan’s jacket gets caught on the railing, finally ripping in half. Even if his brother could fix it now, he’d not need to. Lan Zhan no longer has a job to wear it too.
As he walks into his house, he remains quiet, knowing there’s no way his uncle and brother are awake. He walks up the stairs slowly, turning to his tiny bedroom. When he enters, there’s a large box on his bed.
Walking over to open it, he finds an elegant, three-piece pale blue suit accompanied by a new pair of dress shoes. He takes off his terrible, ripped blazer, scrutinizing it. Inside lies a note.
A-Zhan, you are a gentian flower. It is only spring. Wait until autumn, and you will bloom beautifully.
There is not a day I regret choosing our family.
Love,
Your xiongzhang, Xichen.
“They’re pretty, mama,” Lan Zhan says, looking at the vase his mother places on the table. “What are they?”
“They’re gentians,” she smiles, sitting next to him. “Your brother gifted me this, see? He knows they are my favourite.”
Lan Zhan nods. He had seen his brother buy them at the florist. “Why do you like them so much? Because they’re pretty?”
“Yes, they are pretty,” Lan Yue nods. “But that’s not the only reason I love them. Gentians are evergreen, Zhan’er. They bloom around late September. By then, spring is over, and no one expects to see such vibrant, colourful flowers. And yet, here they are,” she says, a faraway look in her eyes. “They take their time, yes, but the result is beautiful. It’s always worth it.”
“Oh,” Lan Zhan smiles. “I didn’t know that.”
“Yes,” she strokes his hair softly. “It’s like that for us, too, right? You, Huan’er, and Mama. Even if it seems like we take more time, soon enough, we will bloom beautifully.” She kisses the top of his head.
“And it will all be worth it.”
Lan Zhan walks silently into his brother’s room, finding him asleep on his bed. He climbs up carefully into his bed, wrapping his arm around him, burying his head into his back. He hasn’t done this in years, and he’d be much more embarrassed if he were not made of misery.
“A-Zhan,” his brother says, half-asleep.
“Mn,” Lan Zhan nods. “You can stay asleep.” He says quietly. Lan Xichen lays his other arm on Lan Zhan’s, holding him gently.
“Xiongzhang?”
“Hm?”
Lan Zhan takes a deep, tearful breath. “Thank you.”
Wei Ying knits a few more rows for the blanket he’s making, covering his sister with the one he’d made last month. She sleeps peacefully on the only mattress their office has, in a hoodie far too large to be her own. Jiang Cheng’s on the beanbag, and Wei Ying quickly adjusts his neck, ensuring he has something to rest on. He’d complain the whole day with neck pain, otherwise.
Jiang Fengmian had given them strict instructions to not come back for several days, just so Madam Yu could calm down. Wei Ying rests on his blanket on the floor, next to Jiang Cheng. He leaves a foot off, just in case he falls, securing the space with pillows and whatever is left of his wool. He doesn’t want his brother to get hurt, no more than he has already.
Lying on the floor, Nie Mingjue’s words rattle through his head. His business would never succeed – and he’d screwed them all. Threw Jiang Fengmian’s kindness back in his face, reaped no reward for the excellent education Madam Yu provided him with. He’s a failure, like he’s always been, no more than a child fighting with stray dogs for scraps. And now he’s dragged his family down with him.
He wonders if Lan Zhan knew who he was if he would save those letters with such care. Keep them close to him, as if Wei Ying was worth the time. It’s almost ironic that the only thing that made those worth it was the fact that Wei Ying never wrote them. Everything he touches turns to dust – and soon, he will be left with only ruin.
Unable to sleep, he retrieves the letters Nie Mingjue had left behind. There’s so many; they’re sure to put him to sleep. He turns his desk light on, inching closer to avoid disturbing his family.
He stays up all night reading them.
Nie Mingjue looks at himself in the mirror, dusting off the suit he’d put on for the party. He feels awful.
He’d been unable to pay back his debt to Xichen. He’d failed to get Lan Zhan his dream, even for a day. He’d gone over there and ruined his chances. He’d broken the spirit of a young man who just dared to ask; he’d stuffed out their lights like a shoe crushing a cigarette butt.
He’s pushed another person away just like he did to Xichen.
Just like he did to Huaisang.
Since there’s no way in hell Wei Ying will show up now, he has to do what he should have done years ago. Fix a lie that shouldn’t have been told, even if there will be consequences. Looking for the right shoes to wear, he browses his collection. An old, well-preserved pair of sneakers remains in the bottom left of the shelf, ones he never had the heart to throw away.
He picks them up slowly, remembering how Xichen had given them to him the day he tried to run. The way he screamed when Huaisang painted the soles, even though it’s now the only trace of him in this house.
He sighs and places them back in their box. It’s not too late for this one – he thinks and heads out the door.
On my 9th birthday, my mother gifted me this beautiful music box. But I haven’t opened it yet – isn’t that strange? Every time I try, I close it. What if I opened it and I didn’t like the melody? What if it didn’t play anything at all. Because of these silly thoughts, I’ve never managed to open it.
You must be wondering why I’m telling you this. Well, Wei Ying. You are like that beautiful music box to me. It doesn’t matter if you never open it. I will treasure you all the same. I’m just happy you were in my life, Wei Ying. I hope you know that.
The suit fits perfectly, as he expected it to. He doesn’t know how much his brother spent on it, and he doesn’t have the heart to ask, so he simply puts it on, looking at the mirror. It’s lovely.
He turns to his desk to look for a hair tie, spotting something with the corner of his eye. He carefully picks it up, scrutinizing the music box, still perfect as it was, almost 20 years ago. It sits next to the photo of his mother, sitting in a field of beautiful, blue flowers, looking happily into the camera, a sun hat covering her eyes.
It was the last photo they had ever taken of her.
Lan Zhan looks at the Music box, running his fingers over the name engraved onto it. He places his thumb under the clasp, opening it only to hear the first beat.
He closes it immediately.
“Are you still reading that?” Jiang Cheng says. “They can’t be that good.”
Wei Ying shakes his head. “I was just…” he trails off, opening the second-hand store app on his phone. Below the photo of the baseball, there are a few more comments.
I’m sorry if I came on too strong yesterday. I was just really looking forward to seeing you.
I am meeting my father today. Would you be able to come?
Wei Ying sighs, looking back at the letters. He clenches his fist, taking a deep breath. “Hey, Jiang Cheng,” he turns to his siblings.
“Do you have a suit I can borrow?”
Picking up the suit from Jiang Cheng’s cousin’s house, Wei Ying rides their bike into town. On the way, a place catches his eye. He locks the bike and goes into the salon, the bell on the door chiming behind him.
When Lan Zhan reaches the party, it’s like his heart stops beating. It’s not the soiree his father had described – but rather, a massive event with over a hundred people, live music, and even an open bar.
A car Lan Zhan recognises pulls up, the same chauffeured Mercedes he had seen the other day. His father, dressed to the nines, walks out, smiling at the people who greet him along the way. Lan Zhan stays glued to his spot, hands clammy until one of the security guards ask him to move.
He stays clear of his father as he walks in, completely out of his element. With the suit Lan Xichen bought him, he doesn’t stick out – but he can tell he is far below the pay grade of almost anyone who has walked through those gates. He considers turning around and walking out, pride be damned, but his feet remain nailed to the ground once he hides a place dark enough to hide.
I’m sure you have a perfect melody. You have comforted me all these years, and I know you always will.
Nie Mingjue takes a sharp turn to enter the valet, cursing himself under his breath. He hands his keys and a tip to the valet, walking into the party, wishing he had to be anywhere else.
Walking in, he is greeted by many colleagues and essential people, but he searches only for one. And he finds him hiding behind a plant.
“What the hell is hiding for?” Nie Mingjue shakes his head. He begins walking towards him, breathing slowly when he stops. It seems, suddenly, like all the lights in the room have dimmed. Nie Mingjue can’t believe his eyes.
“It can’t be.”
Lan Zhan places his head near the plant, watching as his father speaks cordially to some white people, speaking in what sounds like French.
He ducks down again when he’s in his line of sight, feeling like an idiot. It’s time to face the truth, he knows. Wei Ying isn’t coming, and his lies will soon be exposed. It’s his fault for lying in the first place.
A woman nearby makes a shocked, pleased sound, and it feels like the room – the music, the chatter – has gone silent. The floor parts for a man in a sleek black suit to walk in fit with shiny wingtip shoes and soft, styled hair. Lan Zhan’s mouth goes dry as he watches him, his heart-stopping as he notices him.
“It can’t be,” he murmurs as the man draws closer. He has a perfect, elvish face, the same one he had seen on the street yesterday. There’s a scraggly, boyish quality to him, the way he walks, the small, troubled smile on his face. He’s different from what he imagined, but somehow, all the same, as he walks to Lan Zhan’s table, standing in front of him.
He smiles. It’s as if every light in the room is now at its fullest, every candle so much brighter. It’s like the whole room is drenched in a fuzzy, warm light, leaving Lan Zhan only to see the man in front of him, clearer than ever. Lan Zhan must stop himself from staring, open-mouthed. It seems everyone in the room has the same conundrum.
“I’m sorry,” Wei Ying says to him. “Have you been waiting long?”