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“Lan Zhan!”

Lan Wangji turns his head towards the sound just in time to see Wei Ying’s flushed face and worry that he won’t be able to stop before they collide, before the younger man skids to a halt millimeters from the barrier. He stares. Wei Ying is grinning, breathless from the exercise. No matter how often this sight greets him, Lan Wangji always needs a minute to recover from the sudden assault.

“Wei Ying,” he greets after a moment.

The man in question brightens even further — if that is even possible. “Lan Zhan, have you come to watch me practice? I’ve been working hard! Nothing but the best, of course, otherwise I don’t have a prayer of defeating you, haha!” He looks around, finally noticing Lan Wangji is not alone. “Ah, Zewu-jun! What brings you here? It’s nice to see you again! How’s retirement? I bet it’s really great… Sleeping in, no stupid diets, no sadistic training routines...” He laughs, resting his chin in his hands and his elbows on the partition separating them.

Lan Xichen takes the barrage of questions in stride, giving Wei Ying a benevolent smile. “Ah, just accompanying my brother here for moral support. It’s not like Wangji needs my coaching services anymore,” he says, casting a fond look at Lan Wangji before returning his attention to Wei Ying. “And thank you for asking; I am very much enjoying my ‘retirement’, as you call it. Mentoring others has always been my preference.”

“And it gives the rest of us mere mortals a fighting chance, with you out of the running, hehe! I should really thank you, Zewu-jun…” Wei Ying grins and immediately plunges into a theatrical bow. Lan Xichen chuckles.

“I have no doubt that you would have bested me very soon, Wei Wuxian, with or without interference on my part. That is… if you can get past Wangji, of course.” His eyes twinkle in amusement.

“Of course, of course,” Wei Ying agrees happily and swings his attention back to the younger brother. Lan Wangji feels pinned under that gaze. It should probably be more uncomfortable than it is. “A worthy opponent! Right, Lan Zhan?”

Lan Wangji nods. He is not prone to false modesty, but either way, in his mind, the qualifier is directed at Wei Ying, who is indeed incredibly talented as well as pleasant to be around.

The man in question flashes him a brilliant smile, knowing not to be offended by his lack of a verbal response. “Well, I’ve got to get back to practice, but you’re welcome to stay and watch,” he winks, skating backwards from the barrier. “See you on the ice!”

And he’s gone, whirling around to rejoin the center of the rink where athletes of multiple regions are already gliding, familiarizing themselves with the space before formal rehearsals begin.

“Quite a tornado, that Wei Wuxian,” his brother comments with a smile. When Lan Wangji rips his gaze away to look at him, his eyes glimmer with a knowing look. “Be careful he doesn’t catch you off-guard and sweep you off your feet,” he adds, starting to walk towards the exit.

Lan Wangji is almost offended. “I will perform to the best of my abilities in the competition,” he protests, puzzled at the fact that this apparently needs saying.

“Not what I meant,” Lan Xichen tosses over his shoulder. Lan Wangji can hear the smile in his voice. Perplexed, he frowns to himself and follows after his brother.

Wei Wuxian is furtively inserting coins into the building’s vending machine when he hears someone calling his name. Immediately, he freezes, turns around and plasters himself against the glass, pasting an innocent smile onto his face. A few coins clink onto the tiled floor from where they escaped his grasp, giving him away. Damn... busted . He looks up at the intruder, and instantly deflates.

“Huaisang!! You scared me,” he breathes.

Nie Huaisang grins at him, not even bothering to look remorseful. “Ah, sorry, sorry. Don’t worry, I won’t give away your dirty little secret.”

“Which one?” Wei Wuxian mutters, turning back around and bending to retrieve his snack from the machine and the loose change scattered on the floor. “You know far too many, anyway. If you ever decide you want to blackmail me, I’m basically screwed.”

“Blackmail you? Wei Wuxian, I would never!” Nie Huaisang gasps, arranging his face into his favorite angelic expression. “Such faith you have in me,” he pouts.

“Yeah, yeah,” Wei Wuxian grumbles. “Tell it to someone who doesn’t know you like I do. You can’t fool me, Nie Huaisang. But! I’ll trust you this time, I guess,” he sighs dramatically. “So, you here for rehearsals already? I thought your team wasn’t scheduled to arrive until tomorrow.” He bumps their shoulders together and gives him a grin. “It’s nice to see you, by the way.”

Nie Huaisang gives an answering smile. “The Qinghe delegation is arriving tomorrow, yes. I wanted to come earlier, though, so I could have some time to see my friends before the madness really begins,” he explains.

“Awww, Huaisang! Sometimes I forget how much of a cute little teddy bear you are when you’re not scheming and plotting,” Wei Wuxian coos, pinching his cheeks. Nie Huaisang allows it with a long-suffering sigh, and lets his friend throw an arm over his shoulder to start steering them towards the lounge area. Practice is mostly over for the day and a majority of the athletes in attendance have already gone home, but a handful of stubborn stragglers are lingering on the ice and in the corridors still.

They are almost at their destination, when Nie Huaisang lets out a squeak and abruptly pulls Wei Wuxian back behind a corner. Once he’s done tripping over his own feet, Wei Wuxian turns accusing eyes on his companion. “Oi! What was that for?!”

Nie Huaisang, however, is unresponsive. He appears to be trying to become one with the wall, eyes wide and features slack with shock. Wei Wuxian frowns and pokes him in the shoulder.

“Hey. Hey, Huaisang. What the hell was that?”

After a moment (and some fingers being snapped in his face), Nie Huaisang rallies enough to bring an unfocused gaze on Wei Wuxian. “It’s, uh… That is, I mean…” His eyes drift toward the other room absently.

Okay, what’s that about? Wei Wuxian’s frown deepens, and he makes to walk in that direction — and trips again, as Huaisang yelps and lunges suddenly, grabbing him again by the back of his t-shirt. “Don’t!!” he whispers frantically, eyes wild. “He’ll see you!”

Wei Wuxian hacks and coughs from where his collar dug into his throat at the manhandling, turning a betrayed look at his friend. “Oh my God, Huaisang, what the fuck?? What is wrong with you??”

At that, Nie Huaisang lets go of him, as if scalded. He shifts guiltily on his feet. “I’m… I’m so sorry, I — I just…” He flounders, before dropping his head into his hands. “Ugh! Okay,” he takes a deep breath, “you have to promise me you won’t do anything, if I…”

Even as he says it, he must realize the absurdity of trying to extract such a promise from Wei Wuxian , of all people, and he trails off.

Wei Wuxian gets a calculating look on his face, and this time, Nie Huaisang isn’t quick enough to hold him back as he pounces away and peeks his head around the corner, about as discreet as a charging hippo. By some miracle, though, nobody seems to notice him. Behind him, he hears the thunk of his friend knocking his head against the wall in despair. He ignores this, and focuses instead on the scene in front of him.

It’s… disappointing.

There’s nothing there. Just some empty couches, a sad drooping potted plant, and a couple of people chatting by the coffee maker. One of them is seemingly listening with half an ear and staring at the gurgling machine, clearly more interested in the thin stream of life-giving nectar slowly filling a paper cup, while his companion is gesturing animatedly at him — actually, hold on, that one looks familiar. Wei Wuxian squints. Who could… oh! He remembers, now. This is Mo Xuanyu! The peacock’s half-brother!

Now that he thinks about it, it makes perfect sense, actually — he did hear about Xuanyu from his sister, who is obviously much too good of a person to let stupid stigma and prejudice stand in the way of her determination to be a perfect in-law to the entire extended Jin family. She said he was an athlete on the Lanling team… Wei Wuxian racks his brain. An ice dancer, perhaps, like Huaisang? Yes, that must be it, he thinks, looking at the man’s elegant bearing and expansive gestures, observing his lean musculature characteristic of a dancer and the bold strokes of make-up on his face.

Huh. Well, that’s funny. Still, it doesn’t explain why Huaisang suddenly freaked out and started attacking him. Unless —

His eyes widen.

He pulls back, whipping around to stare at his friend. Nie Huaisang, at this point, has slid several inches down the wall and is wearing a tortured look, eyes tightly closed. He waits, clearly resigned to his fate. Well, Wei Wuxian isn’t one to disappoint.

“Xuanyu, Huaisang? Xuanyu? ”

Nie Huaisang grimaces, and if Wei Wuxian wasn’t sure before, he definitely has his answer now.

“Oh my God! You have a crush on Xuanyu! This is too good,” he cackles. Nie Huaisang’s eyes snap open immediately, panicked, as he tries to shush him.

“Wei-xiong! ” He whines urgently. “Seriously! Do you want me to die of embarrassment? I’m already managing that perfectly well on my own, anyway,” he adds somewhat sourly.

“Aw, poor Huaisang! Having some love troubles, are you? How unlike you, Mr Smooth,” Wei Wuxian taunts, like the asshole he absolutely is.

Nie Huaisang’s face contorts, even as he gratefully latches onto the (somewhat) new topic. “Smooth? Really? It’s like you don’t know me at all, Wei-xiong.”

“Ha! Yeah, right. You think I don’t remember the parade of guys, girls and everything in between you managed to seduce right into your bed when we were sharing a dorm? Pfft, not likely.  Those walls were really thin, you know. There are some things a guy just doesn’t need to know about his roommate.” He shakes his head, affecting a weary, faraway look.

“I was very discreet,” Nie Huaisang mutters. “It’s not my fault you’re a nosy neighbor.”

“The point is,” Wei Wuxian continues, unperturbed by the accusation, “you’re not normally this tongue-tied when you’re trying to talk your way into someone’s pants. So, what’s up? Don’t tell me little baby Xuanyu, of all people, is making you nervous?”

“Of course not,” Nie Huaisang pouts. “He’s hardly intimidating.”

“Really? What was that, then? When you almost strangled me to death with the force of your totally cool, totally normal not-panic? Remember that?”

When Nie Huaisang stays silent at that, glowering quietly at the floor, Wei Wuxian gives him his best salesman smile and offers, “Want me to put in a good word for you?”

Nie Huaisang looks up. “What, like you actually know him?”

“Well, yeah, he’s basically my brother.”

“He’s your adopted sister’s illegitimate half-brother-in-law.”

“That’s what I just said.”

Nie Huaisang rolls his eyes (subtly, of course — he isn’t crass , unlike some people). “And have you ever talked to him? Even a single word?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Nie Huaisang lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Thank you, Wei-xiong, but I think I’ll take my chances. No need to get involved on my behalf.”

Wei Wuxian shrugs. “Suit yourself.” And then —

And then, he sticks his hands in his pockets and strides around the corner, whistling cheerfully. Nie Huaisang can only gape after him as he exclaims a greeting at the two men currently occupying the lounge, immediately striking up a conversation about something or other. He watches, heart in his throat, as Wei Wuxian claps a hand on a bemused Mo Xuanyu’s shoulder, and a terribly ominous feeling descends upon him. He should go. He really should leave, right now, before this gets any worse, but his feet are rooted to the spot —

And then Wei Wuxian proves him right by turning around, locking eyes with him and giving him a cheerful wave. Oh, that little shit , he thinks, and his heart sinks when he sees the other two turn their eyes on him as if in slow motion. That little shit, he did not just do that .

He watches himself wave back despite making no conscious decision to do so, feels a stiff approximation of a smile settle on his lips, and has exactly zero time to collapse in on himself and start hyperventilating out of utter mortification before his feet decide to turn tail and flee.

His strides are shaky, his mind in turmoil, but his path is clear. A cold calm settles over him as he sees it unfurl before him, and he plots.

Payback, Nie Huaisang decides, will be a bitch.

Lan Wangji holds his pose for a few seconds as the music comes to a close, then relaxes. His breathing is heavy and his muscles burn.

Satisfactory, he decides. The routine flows almost seamlessly by now, after months of hard practice. He will just have to perfect one or two transitions, and make sure to perform each of his jumps as flawlessly in front of an audience.

He is working on just that when he hears the door bang open. He doesn’t fumble his jump (he’s not an amateur ), but it’s a close thing. How inconsiderate; what if he had been a less experienced skater, less able to deal with sudden distractions? He frowns, turning towards the sound —

Oh.

A brilliant smile greets him from the stands. “Hey, Lan Zhan! Didn’t know it was you practicing right before my slot!” Wei Ying’s voice echoes in the empty rink. He jogs down the stairs and drops his bag on a plastic seat. “Of course, though, I should’ve known. Who else would want to get up so early and book a practice at ass o’clock in the morning?” He laughs, a joyful, carefree sound.

“Wei Ying.”

“Ah, don’t worry, Lan Zhan, I won’t bother you! Just finish your practice, I’ll wait my turn,” he says, and then proceeds to stretch his limbs, going through the exercises diligently in preparation for his own number.

Lan Wangji nods in approval and turns back around, trying to pick up the threads of his focus and going through a few easy moves. When he builds back up to the more difficult jumps, he can feel Wei Ying’s eyes on the back of his head, tracking his movements.

At the end of his allotted time, he climbs up into the stands and silently starts his own series of post-practice stretches next to Wei Ying. He should probably do this in one of the rooms specifically designed for that purpose, or even in the locker room, but he finds himself strangely reluctant to leave Wei Ying’s presence. He wants to enjoy a few more minutes of this companionable quiet, the only sounds the soft huffs of their breath as they go through their exercises.

He is halfway through a hamstring stretch and bent low over his own leg when Wei Ying looks up from where he was lacing up his skates next to him and opens his mouth.

“You know, Lan Zhan —”

Bang! The quiet is broken by the door swinging violently open once again, and Wei Ying jumps in surprise. Lan Wangji doesn’t, but if he were a lesser man, he would curse at the unwelcome newcomer for cutting in and leaving him to wonder what Wei Ying was about to say.

“UNCLE!!!”

Lan Wangji can only watch as a tiny cannonball wearing a yellow padded jacket barrels past the door on surprisingly quick feet and toddles up to Wei Ying, arms outstretched.

“A-Ling! You’ve come to see your uncle before his big day? Ah, what a good boy!” Wei Ying beams. “Come on, give your uncle a kiss!”

As the tiny creature that Lan Wangji has now ascertained is a human being is swept into Wei Ying’s arms to plant a loud smack onto his cheek, a second interloper advances, more quietly. Jin Zixuan nods wordlessly at Lan Wangji, and he returns the greeting.

The toddler is babbling at Wei Ying, who seems utterly charmed and is grinning with the force of a thousand suns. He pinches his nephew’s cheek with one hand, which prompts an outraged squeak and tiny arms flapping in his face. “ Uncle! Stop it!”

“Ooohhh, but you’re so cute, A-Ling, I can’t stop! Look at that adorable little face!”

Said little face scrunches up before splitting open in delighted giggles when Wei Ying turns his clever hands to tickling his sides through the thick yellow jacket.

“Wei Wuxian.”

“Jin Zixuan,” Wei Ying greets, all smiles. “Thanks for coming, I appreciate it.” He looks around, his face falling slightly. “A-Jie couldn’t make it?”

“Not this morning, no, but she said she’d come by later to see you. And we’ll definitely be at the big show, all of us.”

Wei Ying rallies quickly. “Ah, that’s good, that’s good.”

Lan Wangji gets distracted by the sight of Wei Ying cooing at the boy. How can one face contain so many expressions? His lips, his cheeks, his eyebrows — all in constant motion, making a seemingly infinite variety of emotions appear on his face, all of them clearly genuine and unrehearsed. This man is baffling in his transparency.

He emerges from his trance when a high-pitched cry cuts the air. “Uncle, no!”

“Uncle, yes!” Wei Ying cackles, skating further away from the partition, having seemingly decided to abduct his nephew.

Lan Wangji chances a glance to the side, worried about Jin Zixuan’s reaction, only to find him already watching him and weighing him with a considering look. Caught, the man politely averts his eyes before Lan Wangji can read any meaning in them.

Jin Zixuan sighs, not looking particularly worried. “Wei Wuxian, be careful.”

“Of course I’m being careful! Who do you take me for?”

There is no reply, but the silence speaks for itself. Wei Ying cheerfully ignores it.

“ Uncle! Let me down, let me down!”

Jin Ling is squeezing his little arms in a death grip around his uncle’s neck and his eyes are as wide as saucers, but despite the distance, Lan Wangji can tell Wei Ying’s hold is secure.

Sure enough, it only takes a few moments for the boy to realize he is not in fact going to fall off, and it isn’t long before he starts giggling again at his uncle’s antics. When Wei Ying zooms past them and twirls him around in the air, he claps his tiny hands together in childish glee.

“Again! Again! Again!”

Wei Ying grins and complies. Jin Ling shrieks in delight. Next to Lan Wangji, Jin Zixuan is wearing a soft look on his face that he can’t remember ever seeing there before.

As Wei Ying waltzes his nephew all over the ice and the sound of their laughter rings out and echoes around the empty rink, Lan Wangji wonders what the tug he feels in his chest could be.

“Move over,” a familiar voice grunts.

“Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian exclaims and jumps up to throw an arm around his shoulders. “Little brother, I missed you! How goes training in the mountains?”

“Fine,” is the curt reply, as Jiang Cheng shrugs him off and dumps his tray on the table.

“Why so grumpy, mountain man? Was the snow not up to your exacting standards?”

“We’re on a mountain right now, dumbass.”

“Ah, you know what I mean! It doesn’t count as a real mountain if there’s still civilization on it,” Wei Wuxian nods sagely.

“Whatever,” Jiang Cheng replies exasperatedly, shoveling food into his mouth. He gets some of that stupid veggie dip smeared on his chin with how fast he’s eating, but Wei Wuxian isn’t about to tell him that. With any luck (and Jiang Cheng’s standard unapproachable aura), no one will tell him and he’ll look like a total idiot all afternoon. Ha! Take that, sucker!

There’s a clatter as someone sets down their tray at their table.

“Hey, Jiang Cheng, you have some sauce on your chin,” Nie Huaisang chirps as he sits down across from them.

What! Wei Wuxian’s eyes leap to Nie Huaisang’s with the deepest frown he can muster. Nie Huaisang shrugs. That traitor! Disgruntled, Wei Wuxian pouts at his plate as Jiang Cheng swipes a hand across his lower face.

“Thanks,” he grunts. Wei Wuxian pouts harder.

He brightens again when he sees who followed behind Nie Huaisang and is now silently settling at their table. “Wen Ning! I’m so glad you’re here! I missed you,” he singsongs.

Blushing, Wen Ning mumbles, “Wei-xiong, you saw me just this morning…”

“Ah, but every moment that I am parted from your side is a torment! Our love is beautiful and true,” he declares, batting his eyelashes and clutching at his chest like a tragically lovestruck heroine.

“Is it?” Nie Huaisang asks innocently. “Ah, how unfortunate! That will be devastating news to your other suitors…”

“Like that loser could ever have suitors,” Jiang Cheng snorts.

Wei Wuxian frowns. “Hey!”

Nie Huaisang hums. “I would beg to disagree, Jiang-xiong.”

Immediately, three pairs of eyes zero in on him. Jiang Cheng squints at him suspiciously but stays silent, considering. Wei Wuxian has no such compunctions.

“What! What does that mean? What does that mean , Huaisang?!” He’s half-out of his chair, leaning over the table so he can bring his face uncomfortably close to Nie Huaisang’s and hit him with the full force of his pleading look. “Please! What do you know? Tell meeeeeee,” he whines.

“Oh my god,” Jiang Cheng blurts out. He’s staring fixedly at Nie Huaisang. “Don’t tell me that idiot is making eyes at Wei Wuxian again? Still? ”

Nie Huaisang nods solemnly.

Wei Wuxian can feel his eyes bulging out of their sockets. What the hell is this?! A conspiracy?

He folds himself back onto his side of the table and grabs two handfuls of Jiang Cheng’s hoodie. “You will tell me exactly what you mean, right now,” he orders, putting as much threatening authority in his voice as he can manage.

Jiang Cheng snorts and shakes him off. “In your dreams, dumbass. If you’re too dense to notice it, I’m not gonna tell you so you can make it even worse.” He turns to Wen Ning. “And you — you’ll keep your mouth shut, too, if you know what’s good for you.”

Wei Wuxian whips around to face his last ally, his only hope, only to see that it’s already too late. Wen Ning is cowering under his brother’s frosty glare and nodding frantically. “O-Of course, Jiang-xiong.”

Aaaaaaargh! Wei Wuxian throws his hands in the air, but the universe has clearly forsaken him on this occasion. All three of his friends — no, enemies, foes, traitors — are wearing different expressions on their faces, but it’s clear none of them are talking.

“I hate all of you.” He crosses his arms over his chest petulantly, before he turns to glare at his brother. “And you! Stop bullying my best friend.”

“Sure, okay,” Jiang Cheng replies, clearly not even listening. “Shut up and eat your veggies.”

Wei Wuxian pouts and picks up his chopsticks. “You all suck,” he mutters.

Lan Wangji adjusts the edge of his sleeve, frowning at the fabric. He will have to have words with the designer. Who decided that this section of his costume should be translucent? Inappropriate. Unnecessary. He sighs. No point complaining to the poor attendant who is currently making final adjustments on his person now, however. He will have to endure it.

He thanks the man and rises from the stool, heading towards the exit. He nods at the next athlete waiting beyond the door, and she rushes in, holding a complicated-looking cape with dangling frills and… feathers?... in her hands. He glimpses the edge of a torn piece and thanks his luck that he was only in there for a slight collar adjustment. He does not envy any of his colleagues or competitors who are facing serious wardrobe malfunctions at this stage in the competition process.

Before she crosses the threshold, he sees her sneak a second glance at him and hide a smirk, which is strange enough that it stops him in his tracks. People do not usually smile at him (with… a few notable exceptions); instead, they take one look at his impassive face and walk away — whether because they are intimidated or uninterested, he doesn’t know. This woman… looks passingly familiar, perhaps, but no more than any of the other contestants taking part in this event.

Before he can ask, though, she disappears behind the door with a click. He shrugs off the odd encounter and continues on his way.

There is music floating from the speakers when he reaches the open door to the rink — something generic, he assumes, not one of the pieces skaters selected for their numbers.

Thankfully, the ice is not too crowded, although most contestants have started dress rehearsals as well since this morning. In just two short days, the competition proper will start; everyone is rushing to finish preparations in order to be ready by then. After the last costume fittings, the rink will undoubtedly be occupied non-stop with final rehearsals until the very last moment.

Lan Wangji strides calmly toward the front row, puts down the bag containing his skates, and starts slipping them on. He is not, for his part, particularly anxious. His practices have been regular and diligent; he has no reason to feel rushed or unprepared.

A familiar voice interrupts him just as he finishes tightening his laces. “Good afternoon, Hanguang-jun! My, how lovely your costume is,” comes the slightly simpering remark.

Lan Wangji finishes securing the last knot and raises his eyes to Nie Huaisang’s face. “Thank you.” He gets up to his feet.

“I mean it, Wangji-xiong! So sleek and elegant… like the sun glittering off of ocean waves,” Nie Huaisang smiles pleasantly.

“...Thank you,” Lan Wangji repeats, mildly baffled. He looks down at himself. His attire is the same as it was five minutes ago, when he was watching his reflection in the dressing room mirror: iridescent white and blue, with strategically placed sequins reflecting the light in changing patterns — and of course, the accursed sleeves, hugging the muscles of his arms in their infuriatingly gauzy (if admittedly soft) material. Either way, nothing to wax poetic about.

Nie Huaisang beams at him and bows, his own dark outfit shimmering with inlaid gold trim and motifs. “I will let you get back to it, Hanguang-jun.” He walks away, still smiling genially, and Lan Wangji can’t put his finger on the slightly unsettled feeling he gets from the exchange. Not that it is unusual that Nie Huaisang would address him at all — they are sufficiently acquainted, by virtue of the close friendship their elder brothers share. But something in his expression…

No matter. He dismisses the thought, and crosses the distance to the nearest opening.

There are perhaps half a dozen skaters on the ice, each wearing their own colors. They streak past him in brilliant blurs, and Lan Wangji allows himself a tiny smile of appreciation. Blues, purples, greens, twirling all around each other with gold and silver accents, floating veils and swaying tassels… He spies another athlete in dark grey and gold, similar to Nie Huaisang’s: surely someone from the Qinghe team. The stark white skirt with bold red stripes, he thinks, must belong to Wen Qing, one of the recent additions to the Yunmeng team. And that darkly-outfitted skater gliding backwards next to her with a wild grin —

Wei Ying.

Lan Wangji has to take a breath to steady himself. Even from the opposite side of the rink, Wei Ying’s outfit looks painted on, an entirely black number that seems to suck all the light from the room. Thin, sheer crimson veils trail off from his shoulders, elbows and hips, and with every twirl, every leap, every spin, he looks more and more like some terrible bird of legend, risen from the fiery depths of hell, wings of flame framing his body in a mesmerizing dance.

Lan Wangji wants to rush over and share this dance with him. Lan Wangji wants to stay right here and admire the graceful display from afar. Lan Wangji wants to grab those fluttering veils and haul Wei Ying close, close enough to touch…

And then what? Lan Wangji shakes himself, appalled at this train of thought.

Of course Wei Ying is beautiful. Only a blind man would fail to see his warmth, his irresistible allure. Lan Wangji is not blind. But this… this desire to pull him close and keep him for himself — entirely inappropriate. No matter what costume he wears, Wei Ying is not a pretty bird, to be captured and caged where he will not thrive. No; this species of creature is best admired from a distance. Lan Wangji will ignore this ludicrous new urge, as he should, and redirect his focus to more suitable pursuits. It is bad enough that he has probably been standing there on the ice like an utter imbecile, gawping silently, for what he hopes wasn’t too long to be unnoticeable.

It is surprisingly difficult to tear his gaze away from the pair and focus on his own practice.

Difficult enough, in fact, that he has not made nearly as much progress as he should have, before he is startled by a pair of arms slinging themselves around his neck from behind.

“Lan Zhaaaaaaan!”

He is, of course, not destabilized in the least by this assault. Wei Ying’s breath in his ear is also of no consequence. If he feels slightly winded, it is only because of the exercise, he decides, with a note to put more emphasis on cardiovascular training in the future.

The encircling arms disappear, and he turns. Wei Ying’s smile, as usual, is blinding. He cocks a hip and waggles his eyebrows, looking him up and down with a leer.

“Well, hello, stranger. Come here often?”

“Mm,” Lan Wangi nods seriously. “Every day.”

Wei Ying uncrosses his arms and loses his suggestive smirk. “Lan Zhan, ah! This doesn’t work if you just tell the truth! You’re supposed to pretend!”

“Pretend… what?” Lan Wangji is a little lost.

“That this is our first meeting, and this dark, handsome stranger is sweeping you off your feet with his dashing charm!”

Even as the phrase rings a vague alarm bell of recollection in his mind (sweeping him off his feet? Isn’t that what his brother said just a few days ago?), Lan Wangji nods again. “Wei Ying is very dashing.”

The man in question gapes for a second, before he gives in to a peal of startled giggles. Lan Wangji isn’t sure what he did to call it forth, but he hopes he can repeat it soon.

“Ah, too cute, Lan Zhan! You can’t just say things like that!”

Lan Wangji blinks and remains obediently silent, letting his gaze roam over Wei Ying’s form instead. This close, he can see exactly how well his costume fits him, the dark fabric displaying his long limbs to perfect advantage. To his despair, however, he is now forced to notice that the front of the garment dips… scandalously low over Wei Ying’s chest, displaying a much broader expanse of bare skin than Lan Wangji feels currently equipped to deal with.

He rips his gaze away and glances to the side, suddenly uncomfortable with the sight. He should… he really should cover that up. Isn’t he cold, so exposed to the frigid air of the arena?

A finger poking into his own chest draws him out of his troubled contemplation. “Lan Zhan, are you listening to me? I said I really like your outfit.”

Lan Wangji looks up again, and immediately gets caught in the warmth of Wei Ying’s gaze, staring straight at him, before those eyes slowly slide lower, assessing. The finger poking into his chest traces a path up to his (recently adjusted) collar, hooking over the edge and tugging playfully. Lan Wangji holds his breath.

“A little conservative, of course… how do you even breathe in this thing? I’m sure I’d suffocate in five seconds if I tried wearing it! Ah, but of course Lan Zhan is made of sterner stuff…” he trails off, withdrawing his finger. “And the style does suit you. Very… princely,” he winks.

Lan Wangji’s brain started fizzling around the time that Wei Ying’s fingers were climbing up his fabric-covered throat, but he has just enough presence of mind left to raise an eyebrow at that and cast a dubious side-glance at his own arms, still wrapped in their too-tight, too-clear sleeves. Wei Ying’s gaze follows his and gets stuck there for a moment, and Lan Wangji can’t help but think that that looks like appreciation in his eyes. Well, if Wei Ying approves of this ridiculous design choice, then it can’t be too bad.

“Yep, definitely suits you,” Wei Ying says emphatically, before raising his eyes somewhere over Lan Wangji’s shoulder. “What do you think, Huaisang? Doesn’t he look great?”

Nie Huaisang again? Lan Wangj thought he’d left. He turns to face him.

The man gives them a startled smile, seemingly busy fiddling with his cell phone, before he pockets it and replies. “Ah! Yes, quite. Just as I told him earlier! Truly magnificent. Now, if you’ll excuse me...”

And he hurries away, disappearing past the double doors before either of them can blink.

“...oookay,” Wei Ying laughs. “That was weird. But anyway! Wanna practice some more, Lan Zhan? You can watch me and Wen Qing, tell us where our technique is lacking.” He grins.

Lan Wangji nods. He’s not competing in the couples’ event, anyway, so there’s no conflict of interest. And even if there were, he reflects, he’s not sure he could say no to Wei Ying’s playful smile and eager eyes.

“No, no, no! Disgraceful! Start again, from the beginning!”

Wei Wuxian grimaces and drops his arms from his partner’s waist. Wen Qing rolls her eyes and glides back. “ Ugh , she’s being even worse than usual this morning. What did you do, Wei Wuxian? Spit in her orange juice?”

“No I didn’t!” he says defensively. “It’s… I don’t know! How should I know? It’s probably Jiang Cheng’s fault, or something,” he mutters.

It’s not like his adopted mother is ever nice to him, anyway, so how is he supposed to tell when she’s being especially unpleasant? He has no point of reference.

“ Wei Wuxian! ” He jumps. “I said , start again! Sometime today would be preferable!”

Taking a deep, calming breath, he gets back in position. Wen Qing throws him a sympathetic look and follows suit.

They get through the rest of the practice session, if not enjoyably, then without any more outbursts, and then Madam Yu releases them. Wei Wuxian is ready to go straight back to their hotel and collapse on his mattress for the next few hours, but Wen Qing insists that they go get some air instead — and what Wen Qing decides, Wei Wuxian knows better than to oppose.

And thus, he finds himself dragged outside, with a brief detour to pick up Wen Qing’s wayward brother, before they end up at a tiny burger place. This is definitely breaking the rules of their respective carefully-regulated meal plans, but what Madam Yu doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

Wei Wuxian slumps on his stool across from Wen Ning while they wait for Wen Qing to join them with their fries. His friend makes a sympathetic noise and pats his shoulder awkwardly.

“Are you all right, Wei-xiong? You seem a little sad…”

He makes a face. “Nah, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about me. Just a little hiccup with training, that’s all!”

Wen Ning looks skeptical, but he doesn’t push it. See, this is why Wei Wuxian loves him. He’s just the nicest! The nicest, sweetest, cutest — sort of like how everyone keep describing puppies, except those are obviously terrifying killing machines. And Wen Ning is the opposite of that , because he would never, ever hurt a fly. A true cinnamon roll. The most cinnamonest to ever roll in the history of baked goods. In fact, Wei Wuxian muses, ripping a straw out of its paper sleeve and methodically shredding said sleeve into tiny confetti before sticking the straw into his milkshake and slurping loudly, if Wen Ning decided to compete in a cinnamon roll contest instead of this silly ski jumping business, he would definitely be world champion.

“You look like you’re feeling better,” comes Wen Qing’s voice, as she pushes a basket of fries in his direction.

And of course, that makes his mood plummet right back down immediately. “Ugh,” he moans, burying his head in his arms. “Why would you say that? You jinxed it,” he whines.

Wen Qing sits gracefully, straight-backed and dignified like the queen she is. She spares him a derisive glance before grabbing a fry between her perfect dainty fingers, coating it with a truly impressive amount of mayonnaise, and popping its entire length into her mouth. (He’s a little impressed.) “Stop being a little baby.”

He pouts and reaches for the basket, stuffing a few fries into his own mouth. “M’not.”

“Seriously, what’s wrong with you?” she demands. She turns to her brother. “A-Ning, what’s wrong with him?”

“Leave him alone, he doesn’t know,” Wei Wuxian mutters. Before he can even realize his mistake, she whips back around to face him.

“Doesn’t know? Doesn’t know what? ” She squints at him. “Spill! What are you hiding?”

“Nothing!”

“Is it because of Madam Yu?”

Wei Wuxian frowns and steals some of Wen Ning’s mustard, but doesn’t otherwise answer. Ah, that’s better. Nothing like a little spice to make the world feel right again.

“Because if it is, you know you don’t have to listen to her, right? She’s only being a hardass because she’s projecting her own failures onto —”

“It’s not that,” he sighs.

“Then what? Is Jiang Cheng giving you more shit than usual? Is there something wrong with your sister?” Her eyes widen. “Is there something wrong with A-Ling? ”

“No, no, no, everyone’s fine.”

“Well, what the hell is it, then? I’m not letting you out of here until you tell me,” she threatens. “Practice is going fine, you’re on track to snag a medal or two, the media have been nothing but complimentary towards you, there’s nothing wrong with your family, and you don’t have a significant other to fight with…”

Wei Wuxian’s burger hovers in the air for a fraction of a second too long before it resumes its trajectory toward his mouth, and Wen Qing, damn her, catches it immediately. Because of course she does. She narrows her eyes at him.

“You don’t have a significant other, do you?”

“Of course I don’t!! You’d know if I did,” he laughs, though his smile feels forced. From the look Wen Qing is giving him right now, she can tell.

Uh-oh.

He carefully puts down his burger and braces himself for her inevitable realization.

“Wei Wuxian, are you pining? ”

He slumps. “It’s not pining if you see them and talk to them every day.”

She fixes him with a look. “No? What would you call it, then?”

“...intense aesthetic appreciation for a very good, completely non-romantic friend?”

She snorts.

“Ugh! So what if I’ve got a tiny crush on one of my skating rivals,” Wei Wuxian admits, finally, out loud. “What does it matter anyway? No one even stands a chance with him, least of all me. Never have, never will,” he finishes glumly.

“Who says you don’t?”

“I don’t know, everyone? He’s like, way too good for anybody. Miles and miles above the rest of us mere mortals.”

Wen Qing’s stare, if possible, turns even more judgemental. “You are referring to Lan Wangji, are you not?”

How does she know?! Nevermind, it doesn’t matter.

She continues, unrelenting. “You two are pretty close, aren’t you? So what makes him so unattainable? He’s just a regular guy. A pretty awkward one, even, if you ask me.”

“Did you see him during costume rehearsal? He looked like a Disney prince,” he moans.

“Then pick up your dress and go ask him out, Cinderella.”

He heaves a big sigh. “Lan Zhan’s not that kind of guy. Trust me, okay, I know.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Wen Ning fidget in his chair uncomfortably. Poor guy probably feels sorry for him. Wei Wuxian really doesn’t deserve him, or Wen Qing. Because she’s right: everything in his life is going swimmingly right now, so why is he so hung up on that silly little crush? He needs to get over it. He’ll get on that soon, he resolves. Tomorrow. Just a little more time wallowing in misery, and he’ll be good to go. Probably.

Meanwhile, Wen Ning has managed to catch his sister’s attention and is whispering something into her ear. Great, Wei Wuxian thinks morosely, he’s being such a sad sack that they’re not even including him in their conversations anymore.

He dips a fry into his milkshake dejectedly before biting into it. He grimaces immediately. Gross! Hollywood movies have lied to him, he thinks sadly. Can’t even have a good dramatic sulk without something or other betraying him and making him look like an ass.

Today is just not his day, he concludes, trying to sneak the ruined fry into Wen Qing’s basket as revenge for ignoring him, because, hello? He is having a miserable day here, could she perhaps, as his friend, muster some sympathy? But nooo , she has to go and whisper behind his back, probably saying horrible things about him, maybe even corrupting Wen Ning with her wicked, evil ways —

“That little snake!”

The sudden hiss makes him jump, and he retracts his hand hurriedly, a half-baked excuse for his little sleight of hand ready to leave his mouth, but — she’s not even looking at him.

Instead, she’s bent over her phone, glaring daggers at something on the screen. He leans in to look. “What? What is it?”

She holds it out of his reach, tilted away, and glowers at him. “You sit your ass down! You don’t get to see this.”

“Come on, tell me! Who’s the little snake?”

She scowls. “Someone who will be very sorry, very soon, if they don’t cut their bullshit out,” she says savagely.

“What bullshit? Why won’t you tell me? Wen Qiiiiiiiiing,” he whines, tugging on her sleeve.

She ignores him and keeps scrolling, brows furrowed, leaning away from Wei Wuxian to prevent another attempt at peeking. His fingers are itching to reach over and steal the phone from her grasp, but he doesn’t even consider trying it. He’s gone down that path before, and he’d like to keep all of his limbs attached to his body, thanks.

Still! What is up with everyone today? Why are they all out to make his life miserable? Wen Qing knows how it makes him go crazy when he sniffs out a mystery and he isn’t allowed to get answers. He’s an inquisitive guy, okay, he can’t help it!

And this isn’t even the first time this week! Just the other day, there was the whole thing with Huaisang and Jiang Cheng and his supposed admirer, and now this? All this sneaking around is really raising his blood pressure! What if he drops dead from all the stress, huh? Ha! That’d teach them!

Just in case, he gives it one last shot.

He makes the most pathetic face in his repertoire and fixes his stare on Wen Ning. “How about you, Wen Ning? Will you put this poor forsaken man out of his misery?”

Wen Ning’s eyes are apologetic, but he presses his lips together and shakes his head. Without even looking up, Wen Qing reaches out and pats her brother’s hand on the table. “Good boy, A-Ning.”

Wei Wuxian drops his head into his arms. Well, it was worth a try.

After a second, he feels Wen Qing’s hand pat his head consolingly. “Don’t be upset, sweetie. It’s nothing to worry your pretty little head about. Trust your auntie Wen Qing.”

It’s a good thing he does, he thinks, secretly enjoying her petting; and it’s an even better thing that he doesn’t mind her occasional bullying. After all, she does always have his best interests at heart.

Lan Xichen observes his brother over the rim of his teacup.

This was meant to be a quiet interlude in the midst of their respective training schedules, but it hasn’t been very effective so far. Lan Wangji keeps making tiny frowns into his own cup, obviously bothered by something.

And it’s not hard to guess what the source is: the onlookers aren’t being particularly subtle, glancing surreptitiously at the two of them and giggling.

Lan Xichen wishes he knew what that was about.

As it is, however, he can only try to distract his brother with conversation.

“Wangji,” he begins, then pauses, at a loss. His brother looks up to meet his eyes. The small crease between his brows smooths out in what is clearly a deliberate effort, but the lost look in his eyes remains.

Lan Xichen doesn’t like it.

“Wangji,” he tries again, “you are well-prepared for the event? Is there anything I can help you with?”

“I am well-prepared. Thank you, brother.”

“You should get plenty of rest before the competition begins. And eat balanced meals. And make sure to stay hydrated,” Lan Xichen fusses.

“Yes, brother,” Lan Wangji acquiesces, slightly confused.

Good, Lan Xichen thinks. Keep him distracted. He hears yet another stifled giggle coming from the next table, and hurries to speak over it.

“And, er, what do you think of the other contenders? Anyone in particular you’re worried about?”

Lan Wangji still looks vaguely perplexed, but nods gamely. “Wei Ying,” he says.

Ah. Well, of course. Lan Xichen smiles at his brother. “You’ve seen him practice?”

“Mm.”

“And Lady Wen is no slouch either. Together, they must make quite the pair! Yunmeng was truly blessed that she decided to join their team after Qishan disbanded,” Lan Xichen continues.

At that, however, his brother’s expression grows slightly troubled. He nods, looking down, but Lan Xichen can tell something must have rubbed him the wrong way. “Lady Wen is lucky, also,” Lan Wangji mutters. “She chose a good team to join.”

Ah. Lan Xichen understands, now, what he said wrong. He is neither blind nor stupid, thank you very much; a trait that he normally shares with his brother… except where a certain rival is concerned.

“Hmm, quite right,” he agrees seriously. “Do you wish you could join the Yunmeng team, then, Wangji? Trade places with her?”

He can’t help the way his mouth twitches up at the end, teasing. Lan Wangji starts frowning at him, but is spared from answering by a commotion at the entrance of the cafeteria.

A familiar-looking couple have just come in with a toddler, who is now loudly demanding to be picked up. Lan Xichen looks on indulgently as Jin Zixuan hurries to shush his son before obligingly hoisting him up onto one hip, while his wife hides a smile behind her hand.

They cross the room to settle at a nearby table, exchanging friendly nods with the Lan brothers as they pass by them — while not closely acquainted, they do tend to run in the same circles by virtue of either family business or personal careers. Lan Xichen, himself, has not had many dealings with Jiang Yanli — but he has occasionally interacted with the Jin heir while assisting his uncle with official family affairs.

How fascinating to see Jin Zixuan in this context, he thinks, smiling helplessly as the man in question struggles to contain his toddler’s kicking legs and sit him down on the padded bench. Said child is of no help whatsoever, too busy babbling at his mother, until finally, an exasperated Jin Zixuan scolds him.

“A-Ling! Will you sit still for a minute?!”

The child relents with a pout.

“ Thank you!”

The toddler — Jin Ling — must really take after his father, because he turns his nose up in the air and seems to prepare for a good sulk in response to being told off… But amazingly, Jin Zixuan must sense this impending doom, and he is quick to cup the back of his son’s head and drop a kiss in his hair. Jin Ling’s bad mood evaporates as quickly as it came, a sweet little grin taking over his face again.

Lan Xichen is impressed. It seems that Jin Zixuan has come a long way since his awkward, emotionally-illiterate teenage years.

(He’s also melting a little on the inside. How adorable!! In his mind, he starts making plans to ask his uncle about adding a toddler skating class to their catalogue, back in Gusu. In fact, he could teach it himself! Everyone knows he has a soft spot for children, anyway, and what a good opportunity it would be for Jingyi to make friends...)

So absorbed in his musings is he, that it takes Lan Xichen a while to process the exclamation from the next table over — and then only because it makes his brother tense, immediately triggering his own big-brother instincts.

“Of course it’s him! Haven’t you seen the pictures?”

Lan Xichen whips his head around, and sure enough, he can see the same group as before with their heads bent together in gossip — except for one, who is openly staring at Wangji. He fixes his own gaze on the culprit and summons the frostiest smile in his repertoire (the one that he’s been told radiates so much passive threat it would make anything in his path wither and die), then waits to be acknowledged.

When the boy notices, his eyes grow huge and he emits a very satisfying squeak before ducking down. One of his companions swats him upside the head, muttering something Lan Xichen can’t hear but hopes is suitably scathing.

Beyond the other table, Jiang Yanli is also watching the guilty party with a calculating frown. She catches Lan Xichen’s eyes, seems to search for something, and looks away with a brief nod. Whether she found what she was looking for or not, he has no idea.

He turns back to Lan Wangji.

His brother is still contemplating the depths of his teacup, looking morose (not that anyone but Lan Xichen could tell, probably. His brother is notoriously hard to read, or so everyone keeps telling him). He sighs.

“Wangji. I’m going to get some more hot water. Do you want anything else?”

His brother shakes his head mutely. Sighing again, Lan Xichen gets up, drops a warm hand on Wangji’s shoulder briefly, then collects both of their empty cups for a refill.

He is waiting by the hot water dispenser and grabbing a few packets of brown sugar when he is joined by Jiang Yanli.

“Lan Xichen,” she acknowledges, flicking through the teabag options on the counter.

“Lady Jiang,” he responds. “It is a pleasure to meet you here. You have come to see your brothers?”

She smiles, making a noise of assent. “A-Ling wanted to see his uncles.”

“He must be very proud of them,” he offers with a smile of his own. “They are both very talented, indeed.”

“They are,” she agrees, clearly proud herself. However, when she turns to face him, her smile turns a little tight and her eyes are serious. “But this is not why I came here. Lan Xichen, I think perhaps there is something we should talk about.”

He can only stare at her, taken aback. “There is?”

He can’t help but fidget as she fixes him with a searching look; he feels like she’s reaching into his soul and judging his worth. “Just as I thought, then,” she says finally. “You haven’t seen it.”

“Seen… what?” he asks, completely lost, and then mentally slaps himself. He sounds like an idiot!

But Jiang Yanli only smiles briefly, before taking him by the arm and leading him just a few steps away, further away down the counter, where they’re less likely to be disturbed. This must be important; she obviously doesn’t want to be overheard.

Lan Xichen’s curiosity increases (along with his trepidation).

“Let me show you something,” Jiang Yanli says, reaching into her pocket for her cell phone. She taps at the screen for a few moments, and then, solemnly, she hands it to Lan Xichen. He accepts the phone gingerly and starts reading.

It is not immediately apparent what the issue is, but as he starts scrolling down and pictures start to appear, his eyes get wider and wider with disbelief. He opens his mouth a few times to comment, but nothing comes out.

Jiang Yanli waits patiently for him to finish, for which he is grateful, because — he isn’t sure how to react, honestly.

It doesn’t take him long to reach the bottom, and when he does, he hands the phone back silently. “That’s, um… interesting,” he manages after a second.

It certainly explains the whispers and the covert glances, at least.

Jiang Yanli smiles sympathetically. “Are you all right? I’m sorry if that was unpleasant, but I thought you should know.”

“No, it’s… you were right. I did need to know.” He casts a glance at Wangji, still brooding at their table, then back at Jiang Yanli. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention; you have my gratitude.”

She smiles again and squeezes his arm once in silent support before dropping her hand. “I don’t think there’s anything to be worried about, yet, but it’s always better to be prepared with these kinds of things.”

He nods. “Agreed. Thank you again, Lady Jiang. I will do my best to deal with this.”

She laughs, a clear, pleasant sound. “Please, call me Yanli. I’m sure we will have ample opportunity to get to know each other better soon enough.” She answers his puzzled look with a knowing wink, so subtle he has to wonder if he imagined it. “Have a nice day, Lan Xichen.”

“Thank you. Have a nice day, also,” he calls out to her retreating back, feeling unaccountably slow.

He shuffles back to the counter to retrieve the forgotten teacups. They’re still warm — it’s only been two or three minutes — but he feels like he aged a few years in this time.

There’s nothing scandalous about what she showed him, he reasons with himself, so there’s really no reason for him to be getting so worked up, but… Lan Xichen watches his brother’s back, slightly hunched over the table where it’s usually so straight and proud. His lips purse in worried agitation.

This is his little brother! How dare they? Don’t they realize how damaging it could be?

Actually… a niggling thought dances at the back of his head, just barely out of reach. There’s something familiar about this whole thing, but he can’t put his finger on what, exactly. He will have to investigate.

And in the meantime, he decides, his eyebrows drawing together, if anything happens to Wangji because of this, someone will regret picking a fight with the wrong Lans. He will make sure of it.

Lights.

There are lights flashing in his eyes, and he has to blink to clear out the dancing spots in his vision. The roar in his ears isn’t helping, either.

He doesn’t care.

Wei Wuxian grins at the cameras, barely restraining the hysterical, ecstatic laughter that wants to bubble out of his throat. The hand holding his squeezes his fingers almost to the point of pain, and he returns it instinctively. Both of his hands are closed in a tight grasp; the right one attached to Wen Qing, his dear friend, his partner, and the left one —

— the left one, clenched around a shining medal, heavy and already warm in his palm as he holds it up for the cameras. His arms are trembling and he’s sort of choking himself with how taut he’s drawing the ribbon away from his neck. He probably looks ridiculous.

He doesn’t care about that, either.

He barely even registers the trip from the podium back to the changing rooms, and before he knows it, he and Wen Qing are swarmed by a multitude of friends and teammates eagerly talking over each other to congratulate them.

He slips out of his costume and into a comfy pair of sweats, the euphoria still carrying him through the motions in an elated daze, and then his arm is immediately grabbed (by whom? fuck if he knows) and he is steered toward the lounge room a few corridors away.

His ears are still buzzing, his heart still pounding.

He barely gets a chance to glimpse the people gathered inside and the small buffet set up along the wall before a heavy weight collides into him and wraps him up in a suffocating embrace. He tenses for exactly half a second before his body registers the familiar scent of the hair smushed into his nose, and he melts into the hug.

“A-Cheng,” Wei Wuxian utters, wobbly.

The arms around him squeeze even tighter. Some of his brother’s hair tries to sneak into his mouth and nose from how closely they’re stuck together, and Wei Wuxian has to spit out a few spicy-shampoo-scented strands.

“You made it, you crazy fucker,” Jiang Cheng says, his voice suspiciously choked. “You made it. Congrats.”

Wei Wuxian barks out a laugh that sounds crazed even to his ears, before he draws away to lock eyes with his brother.

“I did, didn’t I? Did that really happen? I can’t tell,” Wei Wuxian babbles. “You have to tell me. Is it real?”

The adrenaline is just starting to leave his system, giving way to a floaty, breathless feeling. His brother’s sudden embrace snapped him out of his trance, but Wei Wuxian can tell he hasn’t completely come back to Earth yet — and he probably won’t for a while.

“It’s real,” Wen Qing’s voice comes from the side, and he turns to face her.

They immediately reach for each other’s hands, like second nature, like instinct born of a long partnership, and he can feel her crushing his fingers again for the second time in fifteen minutes.

“It’s real, Wei Wuxian,” she whispers. There’s a rare, exhilarated smile dancing on her lips, and he wishes he were in a state where he could focus enough to impress the image into his brain to remember forever. The bright glint of the medal resting on her chest is not helping. It hurts his brain. It warms his heart. It makes his blood sing and swell with pride, slowly overcoming the disbelief that tries to insist, in a weaker and weaker voice, that this can’t really be happening.

But it is, and it did. They really won first place. His first time climbing to the top of the podium in an international competition. The proof of it rests heavy on his sternum, right over his wildly beating heart.

Wen Qing flicks a glance over his shoulder, and Wei Wuxian jolts out of his daze. Grinning, he extracts his hands from her grip and starts backing away.

“Jiang Cheng, weren’t you going to congratulate Wen Qing, too? I’ll leave you to it, then,” he chirps, turning around before either of them can say anything. He can feel his brother’s panicked fury at being left alone with Wen Qing, can almost hear a screeched “fuck you” in his mind (sibling telepathy, you understand). He ignores all of it, and Wen Qing’s puzzlement too, and walks away whistling.

His brother is absolute shit at making conversation with anyone ever — that’s a well-known fact — but this is doubly true if the person in question is a woman, or, even worse, a woman he just happens to have a massive crush on. However, Wei Wuxian reasons, if he was ever going to let him get away with this kind of stunt, today would definitely be the day. He pats the golden disk on his chest with a self-satisfied smirk.

Besides, it’s been way too long since Jiang Cheng started carrying this torch. It’s practically his sacred duty as an older brother to help him along.

Wei Wuxian makes a beeline for the buffet and just manages to snag a flute of cheap champagne and a few canapés before he’s accosted from all sides, wide smiles on every face and congratulatory accolades threatening to make him slosh his drink all over himself. He bears it all with a grin, and just to make sure, downs the entire glass (and then another one after that) in one go.

He happily stuffs his face with the food everyone keeps putting into his hands and basks in the attention. This is so nice , he thinks wonderingly. This is only a small post-event party, so none of the athletes’ families are in attendance — which is too bad, because that’s all that’s missing for this moment to be perfect: Jiejie, and A-Ling, and yes, even the peacock, if Wei Wuxian is honest with himself. Not that he’d ever admit it out loud, but the guy makes a pretty decent brother-in-law, really.

Anyone who knows Wei Wuxian would say that he’s the very epitome of a social butterfly; despite this, it’s only ten or fifteen minutes into the impromptu party that he needs to excuse himself for a breather, dizzy from the potent cocktail of champagne and adrenaline crash and sore in the cheeks from how much he’s been smiling.

However, he barely makes it to the exit before someone enters the room and makes him stumble to avoid catching the door with his face.

He looks up, and his face splits into a huge smile again. He forgets to even feel the twinge in his cheeks.

“Lan Zhan! I knew you wouldn’t leave without coming to say hi,” he grins, the elation coming back with a vengeance. He didn’t even think it was possible to feel happier than he did a second ago, and yet, there he is.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan breathes, one hand lowering from where it was slightly outstretched, ready to catch him if he fell. Well, now Wei Wuxian is sort of sorry he didn’t trip. What a treat it would be, getting caught by those arms and braced against that chest… hmmm.

Well, Wei Wuxian has never been particularly good at denying himself. He’s not going to pretend to trip and fall into Lan Zhan’s deliciously strong embrace while they’re both standing completely still , because come on, even he’s not that shameless (well… yes, he is, but no one would buy it), but maybe —

Wei Wuxian sways closer, the picture of subtlety (he hopes), and innocently rests his hands on Lan Zhan’s shoulders. For support, obviously. Can’t be too cautious.

(He nearly believes his own excuse until he gives a tiny squeeze of Lan Zhan’s trapezius — for science! — and narrowly swallows back a moan at the firmness under his fingers. Fuck.)

Lan Zhan tenses fractionally, and Wei Wuxian gifts him a blinding smile.

“So? Aren’t you going to congratulate me, Lan Zhan?”

They’re so close like this. How did they get so close? Wei Wuxian can practically feel the puffs of Lan Zhan’s breath on his face, and he can see flecks of copper in his amber eyes. Huh. He’d never noticed those before.

Lan Zhan seems to be lost in the same dreamland as him, because it takes him a while to respond — not that Wei Wuxian is in any hurry to end this conversation and detach himself from him, though, so.

Lan Zhan blinks, slowly. He hums. “Yes. Wei Ying. Congratulations,” he says, voice low.

“Aw, thank you, Lan Zhan! How nice of you to say,” he demurs, like he hasn’t been begging the other man for compliments for the past minute.

A nod. “Wei Ying deserves it,” Lan Zhan murmurs, his eyes flicking down just for a second to rest on the medal, before lifting back up to pin him with a gaze that’s much too soft for Wei Wuxian’s poor heart to handle.

Slowly, Lan Zhan raises a hand and grasps Wei Wuxian’s wrist where he’s still hanging onto the taller man’s shoulders. His fingers encircle the joint easily and close delicately over it, like a silent emphasis.

On any other day, such an innocuous contact wouldn’t even come close to ruffling Wei Wuxian, but today is not a normal day. Today, he gave everything he had in a major regional competition and he ended it standing at the very top of a podium, holding his friend’s hand tighter than he ever had before, a dozen camera crews focusing on his stupid face and broadcasting it live on international television. Wei Wuxian is still high on victory, high on life, high on champagne, and Lan Zhan’s eyes are boring into his, golden and piercing, and Wei Wuxian doesn’t think he can take it, he can’t find his breath, he’s —

“Awww, look at you guys, lost in your little world! Adorable!”

There’s the click of a shutter, and Wei Wuxian blinks rapidly to dispel the enchantment before casting his gaze to Nie Huaisang, who is currently tapping at his phone with a frankly worrying smile.

“...what?” he asks, disoriented.

“Nothing, nothing, don’t worry about it,” his friend replies absently, absorbed in… whatever it is he’s doing. Which, Wei Wuxian is absolutely positive, is nothing good.

“Nie Huaisang,” another voice then comes in a horribly, horribly saccharine tone. “Just who I wanted to see! Let me borrow you for a minute,” Wen Qing smiles sweetly.

Where she suddenly came from, Wei Wuxian doesn’t know, but what he does know is that he wants to run far, far away, right this second. He has never seen such a terrifying smile on anyone’s face before, and that’s saying a lot, because most of his family and some of his friends are truly terrifying people. Either way, the sight sends a cold shudder down his spine and raises the hair on the back of his neck, and he’s clearly not the only one.

“A—Ah, Lady Wen,” Nie Huaisang hastens, “how lovely to see you… Unfortunately I, uh, I’m afraid I must — yes, I must leave you immediately for, for my… for some very urgent business, you understand, very — very important — yes —”

— and he books it out of there, as fast as Wei Wuxian has ever seen Nie Huaisang run from anyone who isn’t his brother, Wen Qing hot on his heels.

“I feel like we both missed something just now,” Wei Wuxian tells Lan Zhan, staring at the door his (obviously demented) friends disappeared behind. “Is this what it’s like for other people all the time? I don’t like it. I’m supposed to be the one causing the shenanigans, not watching them happen from the wrong side,” he complains.

Lan Zhan doesn’t reply, and after a second, Wei Wuxian turns back to face him only to find him already staring. The soft look is back on his face. And, is that… is that a smile? Is Lan Zhan smiling? Wei Wuxian’s eyes go wide. He is! And it’s… wow, that’s so unfair. Who said that Lan Zhan was allowed to look this cute? As if he needed any more help with that!

It’s a tiny, subtle thing, this smile, but it’s so sweet, and Wei Wuxian wants to trace it with his fingers to make sure it’s real.

Instead, he pastes a grin on his own face and drags Lan Zhan to the buffet, where he can (hopefully) silence the yearning in his heart by drowning it in cheap alcohol and burying it under layers and layers of tiny salmon sandwiches.

(He might have believed it himself, if the warmth of Lan Zhan’s hand in his didn’t set his mind spinning with a different kind of intoxication.)

User: ice-ice-skating-baby

27 posts           1,301 followers           0 following

Description:

Proving a point. In the meantime, please enjoy this humble offering of pining content and totally platonic candids ✌

Followed by: lxc.skating and ayao-vs-the-world

Following >                Message >                Email >

[image]

ice-ice-skating-baby When your otp share a romantic meal

55 likes

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trick-or-treat Is that a Snickers bar?

sk8ing_trash Ah yes, the deep romanticism of sitting on a plastic bench and eating junk food

this-is-stan 🍭 S N A C C time 🍫

illbreakurlegs Bitch, what the fuck are you doing

               ice-ice-skating-baby Some things are best served (ice) cold, my friend

                             illbreakurlegs ……I’ll let you run with this for now but i’ve got my eye on you

[image]

ice-ice-skating-baby When your otp take a nap together

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sk8ing_trash Hey nice they upgraded from a plastic bench to a couch 👍

               ayao-vs-the-world Very true! @ice-ice-skating-baby please extend our congratulations to these gentlemen on the progression of their epic romance!

cuter-xuan-yu Is that the break room couch?? HOW DID I NOT SEE THIS HAPPEN

mianmianmianmian Aaaaawww look Hanguang-jun fell asleep stroking his hair! They look so cozy 😻

iceloverrr That can’t be comfortable… Does Wei Wuxian always sleep in this position?!

               illbreakurlegs Yes 100% can confirm

               jyanli Inexplicably, yes.

[image]

ice-ice-skating-baby When your otp compliment each other’s outfits

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nikiforwhomst omg you can tell they can’t take their eyes off of each other i’m asdfghjkl

               trollonaroll Agreed, A+ blessed holy gay content 💯💯💯

                             sushe_official I’m pretty sure neither of them are actually homosexual

                                           trollonaroll Dude WWX is CLEARLY fondling LWJ’s throat and ENJOYING it

                                                         sushe_official  Stop shoehorning your sick fantasies everywhere. Not everything and everyone is gay.

                                                                       trollonaroll OK boomer_official

this-is-stan Those outfits though!! Hnnnng can’t wait for the event livestream ✨

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ice-ice-skating-baby When your otp take a shower together

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sk8ing_trash Ooohhh, steamy

Wen_Queen @ice-ice-skating-baby I will rip your entrails out of your disgusting little viper’s body and stuff them back into your throat

               this-is-stan Step on me pls

see-with-your-heart Someone give me alt text for this? Sounds juicy, I wanna know!

               songlan.skijump They’re just talking in a locker room and wearing towels

                             see-with-your-heart Thanks baby 😘

                                           songlan.skijump Now stop gossiping and come home

                                                         see-with-your-heart As you wish 💖

                                                                       stabbingiscaring Disgusting 🤮

                                                                                     trick-or-treat Fuck off, creep

[image]

ice-ice-skating-baby When your otp stare into each other’s eyes

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Wen_Queen @ice-ice-skating-baby STOP. MEDDLING. RIGHT NOW. Or ELSE

               ice-ice-skating-baby I have no idea what you mean! Really! No idea!

                             illbreakurlegs popcorn.gif

iceloverrr Look at my precious sons having a Moment ^TM

lxc.skating Beautiful picture! Let’s all congratulate Wei Wuxian on his excellent performance and on winning first place with Lady Wen in the pair skating event!

               mianmianmianmian I mean sure but your brother in particular looks like he’d like to congratulate him very thoroughly and repeatedly 😉😇😋

                             JinZX All right, that’s enough. Coach Lan, I apologize for my cousin’s inappropriate response.

                                           mianmianmianmian What? He does! Look at him! He totally wants to have his babies 💕🍆🍑🍌💦🐣

jyanli Proud of my little brother. You show them, A-Xian! 🥇💪

wn-snowflake I hope they find all the happiness in the world! They deserve it !

               Wen_Queen A-NING!!

                             wn-snowflake Sorry! But they do though… I want to show my support!

cuter-xuan-yu I ship it

Nie Mingjue stares at his laptop screen and sighs into the phone. “You’re right, this has my brother’s dirty little fingerprints all over it. I’m sorry.”

There’s a tinny exhale on the other end as Lan Xichen blows out a breath. “I suspected as much. I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t think there’s much you can do,” Nie Mingjue replies, scrolling to the bottom of the page. Honestly. What does that little brat think he’s doing?

“I know, I know. I’m just… worried about Wangji’s reaction if this blows up. He’s… more emotional than people give him credit for.”

“I know, Xichen,” he assuages. “I saw him grow up, too.”

He ponders for a moment.

“I guess I could always try to threaten A-Sang with grievous bodily harm if he makes you upset,” he offers dubiously. It’s been a while since he tried the Scary Big Brother routine, but he’ll give it a shot if it’ll help his best friend feel better.

Lan Xichen chuckles tiredly. “I don’t think that would work anymore, but thank you for offering.”

Yeah, he’s probably right. “Sorry. Wish I could do more,” he grunts, closing his laptop and leaning back into his sofa. He rubs his thumbs into his eyes wearily.

Sometimes, he swears, it’s like Huaisang is deliberately pulling shit like this for the express purpose of shaving a few years off his life. He sighs again.

“Listen, Xichen. I’m sure it’ll be fine. As much as my brother will forever be a little shit and a pain in my ass, I think he’s developed enough of a conscience that he won’t let this snowball too far. Okay? And Wei Wuxian and your brother aren’t idiots, either. We’ll have to trust them to figure their shit out.”

A huff. “I suppose we will,” Lan Xichen intones. “I just hope nothing gets damaged in the process.”

Jiang Cheng is having a pretty good night.

It’s early evening, and they’re all unwinding in a bar. The competition is over, finally, and he doesn’t even mind that he didn’t win any gold to bring home. Silver is good enough for him for a first attempt.

Also, he thoroughly enjoyed the look on Su She’s face when Jiang Cheng, a first-timer, soundly beat him, a veteran (if famously mediocre) of alpine skiing, by enough points that this lowlife didn’t even score in the top five. Ha!

Jiang Cheng smirks inside his bottle and takes a gulp.

“Didi, what are you doing sitting next to me like a loser, huh? Don’t you have a girlfriend to chat up?”

He elbows his idiot brother in the ribs none too gently, earning himself a loud wail right in his ear. “She’s not my girlfriend, jackass.” (“Yet,” Wei Wuxian mutters into his own cocktail glass.) “Also,” he adds casually, remembering the incident two days ago, “if you pull something like that again, I’m ripping off your dick and feeding it to my dog.”

“Now, now, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian placates, trying to pat his head with his sticky fingers and settling for his hand when Jiang Cheng swats him away, “there’s no need for any of that. We both know I did you a favor.”

“Like hell you did,” Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes, but he’s in too good of a mood to really put up his usual stormy front. Instead, he slaps his brother’s hands away from the snack bowl and drags it toward himself. “Stop hogging the peanuts.”

“Nooooo! But those are my victory peanuts,” the idiot whines, making pathetic grabby hands at the bowl.

“Victory, what victory, I don’t see any victors at this table. Only losers,” Jiang Cheng says, and stuffs a handful of peanuts into his mouth to punctuate the statement.

Wei Wuxian pouts. “Rude, Jiang Cheng. Just because I lost to Lan Zhan doesn’t give you the right to steal my hard-earned reward.” He makes another grab for the bowl.

Obviously, Jiang Cheng doesn’t mean any of that — he’s not a total hypocrite. He’s proud of his brother for winning second place in the solo event, and if he’s totally honest, he’s also sort of glad that the fucker didn’t manage to get two gold medals in as many days. He has to admit, as pleased as he is with his brother’s victory, that would have been a bit much. Plus, that Lan Wangji guy is so freakishly perfect at what he does, it’s not like it’s much of an insult getting second place after him .

Magnanimously, he surrenders the bowl of peanuts. “Here’s your reward, then, moron,” he says without any heat.

Wei Wuxian grins, pulls his prize closer to himself like the greedy goblin he is, and offers his glass in a toast. “To the losers, then. To us: the second-best!”

Jiang Cheng surprises himself with a wry smile. He wonders if his brother even realizes what he just said — but, strangely, it doesn’t sting. This time, his brother is right there with him in that second place, not leaping ahead and impossibly out of reach, and he finds that he’s glad to share that space with him. Happy. Proud.

He clinks his nearly empty beer bottle against Wei Wuxian’s disgusting fruity concoction. “To the second-best.”

He drains what little was left in the bottle and gets up to go get a new one.

“See if they have any more snacks, while you’re there, will you?” Wei Wuxian calls, because he’s nothing if not an opportunist, and also a bottomless well when it comes to junk food.

Because Jiang Cheng is a good brother, he comes back with an additional bowl of spicy popcorn, which his brother doesn’t even notice, the ungrateful bastard, because he’s reading his emails.

“Really, Wei Wuxian? Really? What happened to being the life of the party, huh? You faker,” he jeers.

“Shut up,” his brother mutters, elbowing him half-heartedly. He finally notices the extra snacks and makes to put his phone away, but just then, it pings with a new message.

“What is it?” Jiang Cheng wants to know, leaning over Wei Wuxian’s shoulder to look at the screen. Huh. Jin Zixuan? “The peacock?” he wonders. “What the hell does he want?”

“Beats me,” Wei Wuxian replies, before opening the message.

In it, there’s a link, and just a few lines of text.

Wei Wuxian,

Congratulations again on both of your victories. We’re all very proud of you.

When you have time, please look at this link. It’s none of my business, obviously, but I thought you should know.

Dinner all together tomorrow night at 7, don’t forget.

Jin Zixuan

A cold feeling of dread settles in Jiang Cheng’s gut. He’s pretty sure he knows what that link is.

“Well, that’s ominous,” Wei Wuxian laughs, and clicks the link.

“No, no, wait, don’t —!”

Too late.

…Well. There’s nothing for it now. He was bound to find out eventually, Jiang Cheng reflects, sitting back. He doesn’t need to keep looking to know exactly what his brother is seeing on that screen.

He just… didn’t think the catalyst for Wei Wuxian finding out would be Jin Zixuan. Tch. Just when he thinks he’s got his brother-in-law figured out, he pulls something like this. What a weirdo.

Still, it could be worse. And maybe, this way, the two idiots will stop making tortured cow eyes at each other and put everyone out of their misery. Honestly, Jiang Cheng wishes they could just hook up once and for all, and then —

He’s interrupted by the loud scraping of a chair against the floor. When he looks up, Wei Wuxian is already walking away, phone forgotten on the table.

“What’s that moron doing now,” Jiang Cheng groans, rescuing the phone and making to follow his brother.

However, he stops in his tracks when he notices his intended destination, immediately overcome with the utter certainty that he is about to witness something horrible. But, like a helpless bystander faced with a car accident he can see coming in slow motion, he can’t look away.

Wei Wuxian marches up to the table where the Lan brothers are seated, slightly tucked away in a corner — Jiang Cheng can make out Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao at their table, but he doesn’t recognize any of the others —, and stops inches away from Lan Wangji.

The bar is reasonably crowded and no one paid much attention to Wei Wuxian’s single-minded path towards his target, but even so, the neighboring tables start to notice when the flow of conversation stops abruptly, and a hush progressively descends over the room.

Jiang Cheng’s terrible feeling of impending disaster grows exponentially.

In the tense, foreboding quiet, it isn’t hard to hear Wei Wuxian’s low request. “Lan Zhan. Get up.”

Lan Wangji gazes at him. For a moment, it seems like he might ignore the demand or perhaps question it, but then he obeys, getting up soundlessly. He stands, silent and immobile, watching Wei Wuxian — like he’s awaiting further instructions.

Wei Wuxian is equally transfixed, his eyes never leaving Lan Wangji’s. “Lan Zhan,” he whispers.

He doesn’t say anything else. Lan Wangji doesn’t say anything, either. He just looks.

Jiang Cheng is only just starting to think this might not end badly after all, when Wei Wuxian suddenly breaks into a brilliant smile.

“Lan Zhan,” he says for the third time, except this time, he grabs fistfuls of Lan Wangji’s shirt and yanks him closer and —

“Oh, hell no, Jiang Cheng squawks, turning around so fast on his heels he almost slips and cracks his head open on a nearby table.

He digs his knuckles into his eye sockets as hard as he can. Why , he despairs internally. Why, why, why . These absolute imbeciles managed to keep their heads buried so far up their asses for years and years; what did Jiang Cheng do to deserve having front-row seats to the moment when they inevitably put the puzzle pieces together and — and —

“Gah!!” he yells. “This is public indecency! Stop it right now, or I’m calling the police!”

No one hears him, because everyone started cheering not even a second after Jiang Cheng’s brother stuck his tongue down Lan Wangji’s throat and proceeded to molest him in public. His complaint is drowned out by loud whistles, catcalls and shouts of encouragement, and Jiang Cheng regrets every choice he’s ever made that led him to this point in his life.

After a minute, he risks one more glance in his brother’s direction and immediately wishes he hadn’t. Shameless!! Clinging to the poor man like a starving monkey, really!! And what is Lan Wangji thinking, letting him?! Or, more accurately, pulling him even closer with his hands on his —

Jiang Cheng flushes a furious red and firmly resolves to disown Wei Wuxian as his brother.

And as for that bastard Jin Zixuan, he thinks savagely, who caused this in the first place — oh, just you wait, buddy . The guy won’t know what hit him.

User: ice-ice-skating-baby

[video]

ice-ice-skating-baby Since you’ve all been complaining about the lack of new content and demanding “food”, let this be my parting gift to you. Farewell, and #bonappétit

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nikiforwhomst A FEAST!!! We have been blessed

iceloverrr omg tag your porn

trollonaroll @sushe_official So you were saying about how they aren’t gay

               sk8ing_trash @trollonaroll @sushe_official PLaToniC tOnSiL HocKeY 👅👌😜

wn-snowflake This doesn’t really seem appropriate to share in public... But yay! Love wins!

cuter-xuan-yu True investigative journalism. You, sir/madam/person, are my hero.

               ice-ice-skating-baby In that case, would you perhaps be interested in dinner? Tonight? Meet me next to the podium?

                             cuter-xuan-yu Why, it would be my absolute honor! I’ll be waiting 😉

                                           wei-ahead-of-u @ice-ice-skating-baby YOU’RE WELCOME, ASSHOLE

                                           wei-ahead-of-u @ice-ice-skating-baby BUT ALSO FUCK YOU

                                           wei-ahead-of-u @ice-ice-skating-baby Lan Zhan says thank you though. So yeah thanks i guess

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