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    “Lan Zhan, Lan Er-Gege. H-help me.”
    Two big, fat tears rolled onto the bridge of Wei Ying’s nose, down his flushed cheeks and onto Lan Zhan’s pillow. His breathing was choppy, eyes glazed over.
    It was then that Lan Zhan realised; Wei Ying wasn’t sick.
    This thought was quickly confirmed by a faint buzzing that seemed to come from under the thin blanket that Wei Ying had thrown over his lower half. By the way Wei Ying’s legs were uncontrollably shaking.

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    17 Apr 2026