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“Piao Chong,” comes a voice from the street below, just as Wei Wuxian is about to sprint towards the destruction and general panic that comes with an akuma attack. “Always strange seeing you around. Like you’re a real person.”
“Oh, yes, very strange,” Wei Wuxian says, turning. It’s Nie Huaisang, because of course it is. “Look, random stranger, I’d love to chat, but I really do have to go fight this supervillain with the help of my superhero partner and my superpowers. Nice fan, though.”
“Oh, this?” Nie Huaisang looks between Wei Wuxian and his fan, before opening it in one smooth motion. “You have good taste.” There’s something too knowing in the glimmer of his eyes, and Wei Wuxian considers that he might not be quite as anonymous as he thought.
“The artwork’s gorgeous,” he says, words very measured. “Did you paint it yourself?”
“Yes, but how could you have guessed that?” Nie Huaisang returns politely. “After all, we don’t know each other at all.”
“Not at all,” Wei Wuxian agrees.
“On an unrelated note,” Nie Huaisang continues, still very quiet and not quite conspiratorial in tone, though he’s nearing it. “I’m very good at keeping secrets. And hypothetically, if you had any secrets you didn’t want anyone to know … my lips would be sealed.” He pauses. “You know. Hypothetically.”
“Hypothetically,” Wei Wuxian repeats. He should probably be more worried about this than he is, but there are more pressing issues on his mind. “Anyway, I gotta go, uh, fight this akuma. See you, Huaisang.”
“Oh, wow,” Nie Huaisang deadpans. “How could you possibly know my name?”
“How indeed,” Wei Wuxian says wryly, and leaps away.
“Nie-xiong knows a little too much,” Wei Wuxian muses later that night, sprawled shamelessly across Hei Mao’s - across Lan Wangji’s lap, huddled into the coats they stashed atop this particular rooftop earlier in the morning. “Don’t you think?”
Lan Zhan makes a little affirmative noise - mostly appeased, Wei Wuxian thinks, by his physical proximity. “He tends to.”
“This is an issue, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian pouts; he snaps his fingers in front of Lan Zhan’s masked face, tries to break his unnatural gold gaze. “I think he knows I’m Piao Chong.”
Lan Zhan sniffs, unconcerned. “He cannot prove anything.”
“Yes Lan Zhan, he literally can.” Wei Wuxian frowns and sits up, looking Lan Zhan in the eyes now that they’re on the same level. “Have you met Nie Huaisang?”
“I have known him for the better part of a year, yes.” Lan Zhan stretches languidly, a motion that Wei Wuxian’s noticed he only does when he’s transformed - it’s very catlike in its self-assuredness, in the smug pride glittering in Lan Zhan’s golden, slit-pupilled eyes. “I doubt he would harm you. He has no reason to.”
“What if he gets a reason?! You should be more worried about this.”
Lan Zhan sets his jaw, and Wei Wuxian sighs - he knows Lan Zhan’s stubbornness all too well. “Fine,” he grumbles. “Whatever you say. But don’t blame me when he fucking … leaks my identity to the general public, or whatever. This is your fault!”
Nie Huaisang does not leak Wei Wuxian’s identity to the general public, as far as the two of them can tell. Instead, he seems intent on remaining innocuous. The first time they meet in school after what Wei Wuxian’s come to realise was a confrontation of sorts, he meets Wei Wuxian’s eyes for a beat too long; there’s a flicker of motion that could be a wink or could be the raise of an eyebrow, and then he raises the same fan to eye level and flutters it gently, turning away. Wei Wuxian digs an elbow into Lan Zhan’s side (Lan Zhan is omnipresent at his side, now, a familiar presence in the periphery of Wei Wuxian’s field of vision in the way that Hei Mao has always hovered in the corner of Piao Chong's eye; it’s incredibly reassuring) and clears his throat meaningfully. Lan Zhan sighs (Wei Wuxian can feel the rise and fall of Lan Zhan’s chest against his shoulders), but says nothing.
Wei Wuxian feels Nie Huaisang’s eyes on the two of them throughout the day, lingering on the suddenly-constant points of contact between himself and Lan Zhan, and knows that their identities are virtually a package deal, now - there’s no way Nie Huaisang hasn’t connected the dots between Lan Zhan and Hei Mao, a foregone conclusion once the line between Piao Chong and Wei Wuxian has already been drawn. There’s a telling weight to Nie Huaisang’s unfocused stare and wide darting eyes, and Wei Wuxian considers for the first time that maybe the blankness in those eyes is calculated. It would not surprise him. But nothing comes of it until a week later, when another akuma attack strikes while they’re sitting in the middle of class.
Nie Huaisang’s not actually there at the time - an opportunely-timed bathroom break - but he returns to the classroom with hurried breath and frantic hands, generally causing a scene as he drapes himself against a wall and wails about how he fears for his life. It’s a perfectly believable reaction, coming from Nie Huaisang, who fainted the last time an akuma came within a kilometre of the school and who’s become more and more twitchy ever since his brother died in that car accident. Yet somehow, Wei Wuxian has trouble believing in its authenticity. Sure enough, Nie Huaisang draws the entire class’s attention - both Wei Wuxian and Lan Zhan are sat frozen in their seats, and Wei Wuxian is scrambling for a convenient excuse for the two of them to leave - and then, just as Lan Qiren has risen from his seat in preparation for a tirade, he darts the two of them a smile.
Well. A flicker of one, just the faintest curl to the corner of his lip, but it’s enough to convey the message Nie Huaisang is clearly trying to send them. He redoubles his performance, and no one takes any notice as Wei Wuxian and Lan Zhan slip out of the classroom to transform.
“Huh,” Wei Wuxian muses, as the glitter of his transformation settles around his hands and feet, leaving him in red and black with dizi in hand. “That was … very useful.”
“A little,” Lan Zhan admits, calling his own transformation (Wei Wuxian chuckles a little as Plagg flails around in an attempt to avoid being sucked into the ring). “Perhaps we should request that he repeat this in future.”
Wei Wuxian snorts, hopping up onto the windowsill and balancing there squatted on his toes with superhuman ease as he offers a hand to Lan Zhan, his Hei Mao. “We can’t just ask him to … humiliate himself so that we can have a convenient diversion, can we?”
Lan Zhan tilts his head, considering.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” Nie Huaisang says pleasantly a day later, with a guileless grin on his face. Wei Wuxian shifts uncomfortably, hyperconscious of his mask and costume - they’re all very well and good when he’s anonymous, but turns out it’s incredibly embarrassing to have someone who knows it’s you see you in your (somewhat skintight) (eye-searingly red) glorified jumpsuit. “Anything for the heroes of the city.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Wei Wuxian grumbles.
“I’m only speaking the truth,” Nie Huaisang says earnestly, widening his eyes, but there’s definitely a smirk on his face now.
Wei Wuxian pouts. “I’ll gut you.”
“Ahh, a threat from Piao Chong himself,” Nie Huaisang gasps. “What would the people say if they knew you were abusing your powers -”
“You know it’s me,” Wei Wuxian says, quiet, more solemn than he intended it to come out. “You can stop.”
Something like surprise flickers over Nie Huaisang’s face for a moment before it arranges itself into a laugh, strangely bitter in tone. There’s no edge to Huaisang’s tone when he speaks, though, so maybe Wei Wuxian imagined it. “But that would be no fun , Wei-xiong,” he complains. (It’s the first time he’s addressed Piao Chong as Wei Wuxian, by name. The first time they’ve acknowledged the truth in no uncertain terms.) “After all, what if someone were to be listening?” He gestures expansively with that stupid, omnipresent fan. “You never know who’s where! For all we know, Hu Die themself could be hiding behind that very dustbin, right there.”
Wei Wuxian laughs at that, though he prickles with a sense of unease for some reason he can’t place. “Sure, right, I can picture it now. Hu Die, our supervillain nemesis, crouched behind a rubbish bin to spy on me chatting with my friend.”
Nie Huaisang snorts. “Maybe that was a little far-fetched,” he admits. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Wei-xiong, and if you need a distraction …”
“Thank you,” Wei Wuxian says, and darts out of sight in the way that only Piao Chong and Hei Mao can. It jars him to hear his name while transformed, he reasons. Certainly it never bothers him when Lan Zhan says it - instead it feels right, natural, to know that Lan Zhan can see through both of their masks and they know the truth of each other - but Lan Zhan is the love of his life, and tied to him through some nebulous, handwave-y Miraculous magic in some way that neither of them can pinpoint but both of them can sense. Lan Zhan is different. Of course he feels shaken, to be seen by anyone else.
The akumas’ attacks grow in strength. Hu Die varies their strategy - first with the Scarlet Moth, then with the aid of Kong Que. (Wei Wuxian jokes that the latter could be Jin Zixuan, because making jokes out of it is the only way he and Lan Wangji can process that they really have no idea who Kong Que actually is.) The timing of the akuma attacks becomes less and less random, almost targeted; the middle of a school day, three in the morning before their final exam, and one irritating time while they’re trying to have a normal fucking date. Unease and uncertainty creep over Wei Wuxian in a chill. He thinks he understands, but refuses to.
Ten months later, when they unmask Hu Die - their supervillain, who’s desperate to unite the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculouses, to return the dead to life - everything falls into place. Nie Huaisang smiles with his lips and glares with his eyes, and says, voice hoarse, “I did it for my brother. Don't tell me you wouldn't do the same.”