Chapter Text
“Attention, the library will be closing in 15 minutes” the loudspeaker roars overhead, snapping Lan Zhan out of his child welfare law textbook reverie. Behind him, there is a familiar loud clattering noise, “FUCK! FUCKING SWEATY ASS CRACK OF A DEMON,” followed by a weak whimper of defeat. Today’s closing announcement expletive is a bit less creative than usual, he notes. It’s near the end of finals season; No one, at least no one in this library, can be considered anything remotely close to okay. Even he is feeling the weight of his stress settling deeper and deeper into his bones.
As he gathers his belongings into his giant backpack, he quickly flips through his painstakingly detailed agenda. His relative calm is replaced with utmost disgust as he regards the note penciled in neat handwriting: June 6, Annual Lan Family Dinner Party. Just a few short weeks away.
The Annual Lan Family Dinner Party. Less family function, more networking event. The Lans seldom gather for a complete family reunion. The most immediate members of the family all live in the same neighbourhood, Cloud Recesses, much to the never-ending horror of Lan Zhan as a teenager. It’s a type of gated community where everyone’s lawns are mowed to a perfect height and the lawn decorations kept spartan. The homes, near carbon-copies of each other, are simultaneously far too grand and yet far too plain—a perfect balance between pretentiousness and attempted, and failed, humility. Each year, his uncle hosts a social gathering that consists of the Lan family and some other local families, typically influential families. Lan Qiren, a member of the city council, is always keen to invite the families of the other city council members.
It also marks one of Lan Zhan’s least favourite days of the year. As a child, he hated it because there was seldom much for him to do. The invited families never brought young children. He, his brother, and a smattering of insufferable cousins made up the youth population of the event. Each year, he spent the day glued to the side of his older brother. As he grew older, the event held a new type of torture for him: he became expected to participate more heavily. Interact with the other families, answer questions, participate in gossip. Nightmarish smalltalk, all conducted under the heavy, scrutinizing gaze of his uncle and other relatives.
He is startled out of his contemplation by the default ringtone blaring out of his phone from inside his pants pocket.
“Why did you answer the phone in the library? It’s 7:50. You should be in the library now,” the slightly muffled voice of Lan Qiren pipes up from the small speakers.
“The library is closing now. I am leaving.“
“You have 10 more minutes. You know you should be using all of the time at your disposal. Are you not taking your studies seriously?” Lan Zhan sighs. “Regardless. I called you to discuss something serious.” Lan Zhan hums to confirm that he is listening. “I believe it’s time to talk about matchmaking possibilities for you. There should be ample opportunities at the upcoming dinner, as I have invited some reputable families with daughters of appropriate age-“ he begins.
Another sigh comes out, this time 10 times more aggressive. “Uncle,” Lan Zhan bites out, “We’ve discussed this.”
“Yes, yes, of course. But-“ his uncle says, his tone berating. “At a recent city council meeting, I overheard some of the members chatting during lunch,” Lan Qiren continues, oblivious to the angered silence coming from his nephew. “Jiang Fengmian was chatting about the engagement of his eldest with Jin Zixuan. It seems like everyone’s children are starting to settle down.”
“Good for them,” he grumbles, and he can practically sense his uncle’s lips purse in disapproval of his tone. Lan Zhan fights the urge to end the call.
“It made me think. You’ve never gone out on your own and pursued any...possible girlfriends. A-Huan has been a bit more proactive than you,” Lan Zhan momentarily considers commenting that no one, not even Lan Huan, has ever been certain about what is going on in Lan Huan’s rather chaotic and somewhat secretive love life since he was 15. Lan Zhan is fairly certain he has 2 boyfriends right now, and he is also fairly certain that Lan Huan would never dare confirm or deny it. Alas, he buries the comment in his throat, certain it would do nothing to help in this situation. “And, you know, at your age--“
Exhaling aggressively, Lan Zhan huffs, “I’m only twenty three, Uncle. There is time. And you know I will not be finding a girlfr-”
“I know, I know,” he quickly responds, cutting him off. “I just want to see you happy and in a stable, proper relationship. This is why I think it is time I take it into my hands. I recently heard that Wen Ruohan’s niece is growing up to be a fine lady. A doctor! Perhaps you and Ms. Wen-''
Lan Zhan remains silent, his grip on the phone increasing slightly as his uncle continues speaking. “Uncle, I must get going now,” he grunts out before abruptly pressing the pad of his thumb against the end call button.
He needs to do something to stop this in its tracks.
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Lan Zhan generally considers himself to be a reasonable individual. Extremely reasonable, in fact. The poster child of reason. Even drunk Lan Zhan is perfectly reasonable,. which is why his plan is absolutely bulletproof. It is 6am on a Saturday morning and Lan Zhan is staring at the fruits of a night’s work, his chosen tool of chaos. He had even written a note (CALL CRAIG AND ASK HIM OUT) on a post-it note in perfect cursive and stuck it to the upper right corner of his laptop screen, right next to the tab. The post-it note was slightly crooked. It bugged him.
His tool of choice is a craigslist ad shining bright on his laptop screen.
He doesn’t fully recall how he got here. After hanging up on his uncle, Lan Zhan had gone home and cracked open the only alcoholic beverage in his apartment, a can of sangria his brother had brought and left in the refrigerator the last time he had visited. On the can, there was a piece of paper crudely taped on with “KOMBUCHA” written on it in handwriting strangely refined for being done in sharpie on lined paper. He isn’t sure why his brother had thought this tactic would trick him—while the Lan family is strict about drug and alcohol consumption, Lan Huan had always been secretly adventurous. Secret enough to avoid detection by their uncle but obvious enough for Lan Zhan to recognize that he had been sneaking small amounts of weed into his incense burners since he was 16. He didn’t really mind, anyways.
After a few small sips of the lightly carbonated sangria, Lan Zhan was gone. He does not remember exactly what happened, but his laptop history claims he watched a downright concerning number of bunny videos and made a series of embarrassing, misspelled google searches. It appears that one of them, “HO@W TO SUMMON SEXY GHOST BOYGRIENDF WIKIHOW WITH PICS/” led to some fruitful results, one of which was the craigslist tab kept open on his browser before he passed out. He scrolls down, taking in its content.
Want to skip that long, insulting conversation about how you’re still single? About how your parents really want more grandchildren? Well, look no further!
I am a 23 year old felon with no high school degree, and a dirty old van one year younger than me painted like Eddie Van Halen’s guitar. I can play anywhere between the ages of 18 and 30 depending on if I shave. I’m a line cook and work late nights at a bar. If you’d like to have me as your strictly platonic date for the holidays, but have me pretend to be in a very long or serious relationship with you, to torment your family, I’m game. I can do these things at your request:
-Openly hit on other female guests while you act like you don’t notice.
-Start instigative discussions about politics and/or religion.
-Propose to you in front of everyone Pretend to be really drunk as the evening goes on.
-Start an actual, physical fight with a family member, either inside or on the front lawn for all the neighbors to see.
I require no pay but the free meal I will receive as a guest!
Okay, Lan Zhan isn’t sure this idea is as good as he thought it was a couple minutes ago.
He scrolls back up to see a small, incredibly pixelated picture of a young man with long hair pulled into a ponytail. From what little he can see through the rather strong filter that has been applied to the picture, the guy doesn’t seem to be bad looking. He’s cute, even, but that could be the power of instagram editing. He doesn’t...seem like a creepy older gentleman intent on murdering him. What kind of murderer uses sparkle filters on their photos?
He pauses. His uncle—and the whole family by extension—is driving him mad. He’s tired of his uncle’s constant reminding him of what his expectations are. He is tired of his other aunts and uncles making small comments about his social life, his career path, and his hobbies. He has tried so long to be the ideal Lan family member. He has done it successfully thus far, if he may say so. But, of course, there has to be a limit to everything. His uncle is sprinting towards that limit at breakneck speed, a freight train with faulty brakes barreling towards a massive, inconveniently placed pile of snow.
And, of course, his uncle can’t try to matchmake for him if he already has a date.
The cursor hovers about the ‘reply’ button. “Why not?” He mutters to himself, feeling a bit self-satisfied. This is so smart.
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This is so stupid. Lan Zhan cannot believe he is sitting alone in a coffee shop waiting for a man he contacted through craigslist. He can’t believe he is sitting in a coffee shop the craigslist man suggested. He said he “knows some people” there. Oh god, this is a setup, isn’t it. Lan Zhan is going to die. He is going to get axe murdered in a coffee shop surrounded by undergrad students by a person posing as a twink who has made some poor life decisions. His black coffee is growing cold. His reflection in the dark depths of the coffee ripples with the slight shake of his hand. The natural sense of despair inherent in the air of a coffee shop attached to a university campus fits well with Lan Zhan’s rapidly growing sense of unease.
He checks his watch. There are just a few more minutes to go before their intended meeting time. He could get up now. He has never flaked on a meeting before, it’s strictly forbidden in the Lan family, but there is a first time for everything. He checks how much coffee is left in the cup. It’s half full. What a waste. No, wait, Lan Zhan is rich. Well, his family is. He can handle the loss.
“Lan Zhan?”
He turns around so fast that his hair whips around and smacks him in the face. His eyes are momentarily covered and some strands stick to his coffee-wet and slightly worry-bitten lips. He still considers making a run for it. The hair falls from his eyes and he catches sight of the person who intends to murder him while a smooth jazz playlist thrums at a low volume through the coffeeshop speaker system.
Oh, he thinks, he’s beautiful.
The blurred picture did not do this man justice. The first thing he notices is the smile, large, strong, all-encompassing, a supernova of smiles. His eyes, lit up like he has just heard a wonderful joke, provide a perfect compliment for the smile. Then, Lan Zhan takes in his black pants tucked into combat boots and cherry red sweater, sleeves pushed up to reveal a forearm tattoo and
Oh, okay, okay, okay, you can do this.
Lan Zhan’s ears alert him that he should act like a normal, responsive human again when the man’s smile, that bright, glorious smile, drops slightly and he tentatively asks “you’re Lan Zhan…right?”
"Uh,” he responds, vocal cords feeling thick. “Um, yeah. That’s me.” He is dazzled when the boy in front of him smiles wide again, his full lips parting to reveal shiny teeth and his eyes once more narrowing slightly. He steps forward a bit and offers out his hand, which Lan Zhan slowly takes and shakes.
"I’m Wei Ying,” the man says. He winks, like this is some kind of personal joke between the two of them. It makes no sense, considering it's his name.
“Um,” Lan Zhan blinks, “...Lan Zhan.”
Wei Ying blinks back. “I know.” Then, he gestures to the counter in a weird circular fashion and asks “You want anything? I’ll get it.”
Lan Zhan gestures to the drearily cold coffee on the table. “I’m okay.”
Wei Ying glances over Lan Zhan’s shoulder so his gaze lands on the coffee. “Anything in that coffee?” he asks and Lan Zhan shakes his head. “Hmm. Gross. I’ll be right back.” Wei Ying turns around and saunters to the counter. There is a visible skip in his step. Lan Zhan doesn’t know what to make of it.
Lan Zhan sits down, stiff, and continues to observe. He tells himself it is not creepy, he is simply sizing up the situation. Wei Ying may be hot but he was advertising his services on craigslist and could still be interested in harvesting Lan Zhan’s kidneys. It appears that Wei Ying really does know some of the employees at the café and is bantering loudly with the two baristas.
He arrives back at the table in a couple moments clutching a drink that smells so sugary and simultaneously spicy that Lan Zhan can feel his own intestinal tracts astral projecting straight to the restroom on the other side of the building. “My buddy Wen Ning makes this one special for me. Want to try it?” Lan Zhan shakes his head slowly. Wei Ying shrugs and takes a massive gulp. Lan Zhan watches his adam’s apple bob with the movement.
“So,” Wei Ying begins, leaning closer, chin resting in his hands. “What’s the story? Why do you need my help?”
Lan Zhan pauses to figure out his phrasing. “My family can be…too much sometimes,” Lan Zhan speaks after much thought. He isn’t sure how to describe the situation. He looks up to see Wei Ying furiously scribbling down exactly what he just said in a notebook. His handwriting is absolutely atrocious.
“In that case, I’m assuming you’re requesting me for some kind of family thing?” he asks, to which Lan Zhan affirms that it is a dinner party. “Okay, if we want to be convincing boyfriends, we should know some things about each other.” Lan Zhan nods again. “How old are you?”
“Twenty three,” he responds. Wei Ying writes it down, utterly serious. The fluorescents in the cafe begin to feel reminiscent of a bright lamp of an interrogation room.
"Me too. What do you do?” He continues, eyes and pen still trained on the notebook.
“I study law.” A hesitation. “Sometimes, I make music.” Wei Ying looks up at him with interest but does not inquire further.
Wei Ying continues his inquiry, diligently writing each response down in his notebook. The questions include things such as “How many people are in your family?” “What is your favorite animal” “If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would you go?” “What is your favorite food?” “What are some of your pet peeves?” and “Do you live alone, or do you have roommates?” This continues without pause until Wei Ying asks, “What’s your relationship with your uncle like?”
Lan Zhan frowns slightly, hands grasping the cold coffee cup more firmly. Wei Ying regards him silently. “Strained,” he finally settles on, after a few moments of silence. “He does not approve of my choices.”
Wei Ying looks tempted to push further, but pauses when he looks at Lan Zhan’s expression. Shaking off his interrogator persona and once again plastering on that thousand-watt smile again, he continues. “Okay, how long have we been dating?” he asks, sighing when Lan Zhan simply stares. “You and me, how long have we been dating? We have to match our stories so it sounds believable.”
Lan Zhan pauses a bit. "I'm not sure how this usually goes," he responds after some contemplation.
"What, you mean like fake dating? Or, dating in general?" Wei Ying asks.
"Either."
"Well, with fake dating...not a clue. You're the first person who's contacted me for this. The other emails I got were like, encouraging me to join pyramid schemes. Selling leggings and protein powder and stuff like that. One guy emailed me offering to pay me for pictures of my armpits," he says, casually, while Lan Zhan chokes a little on his lukewarm coffee. "Long story short, I thought about it, but then I took one look at the return email address and realized it's my coworker. So like, I know for sure it's a scam because he can't actually afford the price he was offering me. But, that's just how life is, right?" Lan Zhan absolutely does not think that's just how life is. "Anyways, maybe like a month? That's reasonable, right?" he asks, looking at the ceiling in thought.
“I think...a month might be best. It is short enough that I would not need to tell my uncle about it beforehand, but not too short as to rouse his suspicion.”
Wei Ying beams in agreement. “Smart. Are you always like this? If it’s that short, It won’t seem like the end of the world to your family when we break up just after the event this way, too. Your family might not ask questions about it.” Wei Ying nods to himself, satisfied with his thought process. “How did we meet?”
“Craigslist,” Lan Zhan deadpans.
Wei Ying sighs. “No, I meant like in our story. The relationship story. Um, how about…” he taps his chin and purses his lips in thought. “I was riding my bike and had to swerve out of the bike lane because a car was parked in it. I ended up on the sidewalk and crashed right into you. I was trying to apologize and you didn’t respond because you were too busy staring at my ethereal beauty.” At this point, Wei Ying grins wildly and flips a bit of his hair back. “Eventually you asked if I could continue my apologies in the nearest restaurant with you. It was…hm. Yeah. Mcdonalds. You took me to McDonalds.”
Lan Zhan stares at him for a couple beats. “This is...interesting,” he hesitates.
Wei Ying smiles and takes a gulp of his sweet and spicy monstrosity of a caffeinated beverage. “It happened to me a while back. The guy was hot. I think about it often. Never called me back, though.”
Lan Zhan keeps his face carefully neutral as his brain enters siren-blasting, red light flashing panic mode. Oh, god, he likes boys too. “Okay, that sounds good. Let’s go with that,” he responds, hoping he looks like the poster child of composure.
Wei Ying smiles and taps his pen against his notebook again. “Great, with that settled, let’s go deeper into this plan.”
A small grin threatens to slip out of Lan Zhan.
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The first thing Wei Ying says once they pass through the security gate of Cloud Recesses is “You know, when you told me your family is wealthy, I didn’t expect even the air to taste distinctly bourgeois.” Lan Zhan doesn’t respond, his heart thrumming with adrenaline as they rapidly approach the home of his uncle. Wei Ying smacks his lips a few times. “Tastes like oppression of the proletariat.”
The van loudly splutters as Wei Ying puts it into park. The pair sit in tense, relative silence for a moment, not speaking but allowing the sweet, dulcet sounds of Shakira to waft throughout the van. “Are you okay?” he eventually asks.
“Mn.” Lan Zhan grunts affirmatively. He isn’t okay. Nervousness is seeping deeper into his bones with each thrum of She Wolf coming from the speakers.
Wei Ying taps his notebook with his index finger. “I am looking forward to this, you know. I’m particularly excited to introduce your family to A/B/O.”
The two had spent a good amount of time getting to know each other over the past few weeks. Each time, the two met up in the same coffee shop. Lan Zhan got his black coffee and Wei Ying emerged triumphant with some kind of liquid concoction that could better classified as a bioweapon than a beverage. At some point, the baristas, who were always the same pair, stopped charging Lan Zhan for his drink. Lan Zhan had begun slipping the money straight into the tip jar at that point. One of them, a young man with innocent, round eyes surrounded by a downright shocking layer of eyeliner, slipped him a chocolate banana muffin on a plate. When Wei Ying came to their table (which was the same every time), his eyes lit up with delight. “Wen Ning! What would I do without you?” he yelled towards the counter, giving a thumbs up. The nice goth kid smiled and returned the thumbs up.
At their second meeting, Wei Ying, much to Lan Zhan’s delight and surprise, had created a bulletpointed list of discussion topic suggestions for the evening for whenever they had the opportunity to direct the conversation.
Suggested topics:
-A/B/O: definitions, context, and cultural impact
-NSFW dating sim game development
-Vape tricks
-Class warfare within the furry community
-Dismantling the police state (this note was underlined and accompanied by marginalia stating “DO AROUND HIS UNCLE SINCE HE’S A FORMER PIG”)
-The plot of Kuroshitsuji, not including season two of the anime
-Cats (2019), directed by Tom Hooper
Lan Zhan read the list with great concentration, as if it was a textbook. Wei Ying shuffled nervously around him as the other man slowly deciphered his cryptic chicken scrawl. After Lan Zhan’s head emerged from the depths of the notebook pages, the pair held eye contact, faces carefully blank, for a tense moment. “You are perfect,” Lan Zhan told him, voice soaked with admiration. That deadly-bright smile returned.
Momentarily breaking free from the chokehold his memory had momentarily placed on him, Lan Zhan turns to make eye contact with Wei Ying. Something about his eyes screams you’ll be okay. He isn’t sure how much of it is actually Wei Ying communicating with him and how much of it is his own brain seeking any kind of comfort he can find in the moment. He has never done anything like this with his family, after all. Lan Zhan isn’t known for being too comfortable with breaking from his routine. He glances down at the battered notebook, back to Wei Ying, takes a deep, bracing breath, and nods. After clambering out of the vehicle, the two make their way up the long driveway, intent and falling into sync like they are soldiers marching into a battlefield. There are plenty of cars already in the driveway, one of which looks strangely familiar to Wei Ying. He continues walking. As they reach for the front door, Wei Ying squeezes Lan Zhan’s bicep encouragingly before flashing a smile and asking “Ready?”
Lan Zhan nods. “Do your best.”
Wei Ying grins widely, full of promise, and knocks thrice on the door. There is some activity behind the door.
Eventually, a tall and refined woman opens the door. “Lan Zhan,” she begins. “You’re late. You know how we feel about that,” her tone laced with a twinge of judgement. “Luckily for you some of the other invited families are also late, as is their habit—” she continues, before pausing upon noticing Wei Ying standing expectantly at Lan Zhan’s side.
Before Lan Zhan can respond, Wei Ying breaks out into that grand smile, booms “Auntie!” and envelopes the woman in a hug. She, expectedly, looks horrified. Lan Zhan had previously noted the Lan family’s well-known distaste for physical contact to Wei Ying, who had immediately apologized for his fleeting touches to Lan Zhan. He had told him not to worry, it was not a problem, but perhaps if he could consider weaponizing it at the family gathering…
Wei Ying lets her go before her surprise enters into the rage quadrant. He steps back a short distance, bows deeply, and chirps “I’m Wei Ying! It’s so great to finally meet you!”
“Uh—“ the woman balks visibly. Her necklace has gone askew.
“Please let us in. We are already late.” Lan Zhan says.
The pair barrels past her and into the house before she is able to respond. The house is worryingly large and shockingly bare, but the decorations in the foyer make the wealth of the family abundantly clear. Lan Zhan silently notes the vases and other decorative objects that could stand to be broken by Wei Ying if the situation became dire enough to call for such tactics. There is one in particular he always disliked-- he believes it might have been a gift from the Jin family, as it has the same ostentatiousness he had once seen in the decorations of Jin Guangshan’s home, the one time he had visited with his family. The statue, a bright gold figure of a nude man wielding a sword, is placed atop a base covered in painted peonies. There is something about the eyes of the man in the statue Lan Zhan has always despised. He had always taken a few moments to glare at it while passing by. It clashes horribly with the abstract marble and glass decorations typical of Lan family households. Lan Zhan is not sure if the statue exists in this space to torture him or to appease the Jin family, who visits far more often than anyone else, Lan Zhan included.
Wei Ying takes notice of it and wraps his hand around the muscular torso, pinky finger dangerously close to the crotch region, which is thankfully covered by a carved gold peony. “Babe,” he begins, turning the statue a few times in his hands while Lan Zhan pointedly ignores the way his heart thumps at the pet name, “I didn’t know your uncle has so much appreciation of the artistry of the male form. I’ll have to show him some of my nudes when I meet him!” He winks in Lan Zhan’s direction. The woman has since recovered from her shock in the doorway and has moved closer to the pair. Wei Ying takes notice of her and asks, putting on his greasiest possible smile “Auntie, would you like to see my nude photoshoots? They’re quite artistic. Professionally done! My photographer really knows how to get my good angles. Isn’t that right, honeybunch?” Lan Zhan nods pleasantly. The woman blushes a fierce red colour.
“A-Zhan,” A voice suddenly calls out, and they all look up to see a young man approaching them from the kitchen with a small but easy smile on his lips. In his surprise, Wei Ying, amazing, life-saving Wei Ying, miraculously drops the thing without Lan Zhan even having to ask him to destroy it. The arm holding the sword and a small chunk of the chest break off completely, clattering on the hardwood noisily. It rolls around a few times, slowly, while everyone watches in stunned silence. “Huh, I always liked that one,” the newcomer says as it settles to a complete stop. Wei Ying quickly stoops down to collect the two pieces and place them haphazardly in their original location, the broken appendage positioned at the base uselessly.
“Brother,” Lan Zhan replies, nodding his head slightly. Wei Ying also nods. Lan Huan is to be spared the brunt of their attacks this evening. “He is kind and important to me,” Lan Zhan had explained. “Impeccable vibes. Got it,” Wei Ying responded, scribbling into this notebook. “Brother, this is Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan continues.
Lan Huan’s eyes snap to Wei Ying and sizes him up silently. The atmosphere is momentarily tense as the triad remains quiet before Lan Huan’s smile returns. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he states, bowing slightly. Wei Ying returns the favor. Lan Huan’s eyes flick to Lan Zhan’s, excitement and a rapidly brewing interrogation plan brimming beneath the relative calm of his irises. “Everyone is in the backyard,” he informs them, waving his hand to motion for them to follow.
“Lan Zhan is here,” Lan Huan announces loudly as they make their way to the back of the house and onto the outdoor porch. Immediately, everyone looks up to greet Lan Zhan, but their eyes all fall on Wei Ying instead. He’s used to being stared at though, so instead of shying under their gazes, he draws himself up and smiles wide.
“Nephew,” Lan Qiren approaches slowly and with intent, eyes boring straight into Lan Zhan’s. “You know it is uncomely to arrive late. I presume you have an appropriate excuse to give,” he admonishes before his eyes slide over to land on Wei Ying’s form. “Who is this?” The party guests are silent, their faces showing various levels of concern, interest, recognition, and wariness. One young man off to the side is grinning into his fan, clearly overjoyed at the possible introduction of drama into the normally immensely dreary annual dinner hosted by the Lan Family.
Lan Zhan steels himself to respond, but cannot find the words. Words have never been his strong suit. Wei Ying quickly looks in his direction, grips his hand harder and puts on his most brilliant, award-winning smile. “Hi everyone! I am Wei Ying, Lan Zhan’s boyfriend.”
They are met with dead silence for a good half a minute until the fan-holding young man off to the side guffaws loudly enough to make several people jump. Then, from the back of the crowd, comes the confused voice of Jiang Fengmian, asking “Wei Ying?”