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Chapter Text

Playing his violin on the streets of Tiananmen Square was like asking for death, but Wei Wuxian did it anyway.

There were fewer tourists now that summer was ending, and they milled around staring at the cart shops and shouting vendors. Blankets were spread out on the large flat cobblestones, displaying shiny jewelry and art and carved wooden blocks, all in eye-catching colors, glittering in the sunlight. The wind whipped around the square, catching on scarves and hats and clothing and blankets, making them flutter.

Wei Wuxian added a couple trills to the piece he was playing. It was a Salazar piece, not one meant for improvisation, but there was no one around to yell at him about it.

The notes flew lightly from his fingertips. He hadn't practiced this piece in a while, but he had always imagined Salazar as a whimsical man, prone to bouts of intense fantasies. He wouldn't mind Wei Wuxian playing around with his music a bit. On the other hand, Wei Wuxian thought he could hear Madam Jiang's voice in his head - what nonsense are you playing now?!? Is that even music? Stop that!

It made him want to laugh, but he couldn't, not with his violin in his hands.

"It's him! I told you, didn't I? That's the one - "

To someone who'd spent half his life outrunning his past, those words were from a nightmare. Wei Wuxian spun around to see who had recognized him.

But the one who had spoken wasn't anybody he had ever seen before.

He was just a kid, college-aged and wearing a white silk shirt, patterned with blue clouds around the edges. He was standing amongst the back of Wei Wuxian's audience, next to another kid around his age. He tugged at his friend's sleeve, who was wearing another light blue silk shirt. They both stared at him, wide-eyed.

But that was not what sent a shard of ice lancing into Wei Wuxian's heart. He finally recognized their unusually fine clothes for what they were - the school uniform of the Gusu Lan Conservatory of Music.

"Is he mad?" the friend asked in a loud whisper. "Sizhui, isn't it forbidden to perform here? What's he doing?"

"I don't know!"

"And why the fuck is he playing like that?"

"Jingyi! Rude!"

"But he just -"

Just then, Wei Wuxian caught sight of a commotion at the edge of the square. A loud shout turned several heads. Two policemen in their severe grey-green uniforms were coming towards him. The crowd parted around them in waves, like they carried a bubble of space with them. Even here, in broad daylight, people knew not to get in their way.

Wei Wuxian rushed through the last few phrases of the piece. He really should run, but he was so close to the end. He made an ungodly mess of the last few notes, but at least they were recognizable. The two boys in the Gusu Lan uniforms were gaping at him, astounded and possibly a bit offended. They, out of everyone in the crowd, had at least recognized the piece.

"Thank you very much!" Wei Wuxian yelled out into the bewildered crowd. "That's my last performance for today! No, no thank you, I don't need money - "

Wei Wuxian hurriedly packed away his violin into his case, then slung it across his back.

"Hey!" someone shouted from across the square. The policemen were picking up speed. "Hey! You! Stop right there! Hey!"

Wei Wuxian bolted.

Later, in the police station, Wei Wuxian tried unsuccessfully to reason with the authorities.

"I didn't do anything," he insisted. "I just played a couple songs. I didn't even take any money. Why are you keeping me here? I'm innocent!"

"Then why did you run?"

Habit, Wei Wuxian wanted to say.

Jiang Cheng was going to murder him after this. He could hear it already - you stupid, irresponsible, attention-seeking -! AARGH! How many times did I tell you to lay low! How many times have you almost gotten yourself killed!

"I had to be home before curfew," Wei Wuxian said disconsolately.

The policemen didn't buy it. For one, it was coming out of the mouth of a man who looked to be in his mid-twenties. Wei Wuxian knew that he had a childish face, but he didn't look that young. His hair had been cut much shorter than the long messy locks he had as a child. He wore plain, indistinct and slightly out-of-fashion clothes and dark brown contacts to cover up his grey eyes.

The pictures they took of him would belong to a ghost, someone who didn't really exist. But the risk was still there, and that was enough to freeze Wei Wuxian's heart in his throat.

"What is your name?" the policeman asked.

"Mo Xuanyu," Wei Wuxian lied. He had only started using that name recently, and it should still be enough to shake off the trail of anyone who was looking for him.

"Can you prove that?"

Wei Wuxian stared at him. "It's my name," he said slowly. "How do I prove that?"

"Why don't you have an ID card?" the policeman asked.

"I told you. I left it at home."

"Then what's your home address?"

"I - I can't tell you that. It's - it's temporary. I'm not breaking the law or anything. It's just that I'm crashing at a friend's place and they're really busy right now and -"

An hour later, after he had been dumped unceremoniously into a holding cell, Wei Wuxian leaned his head against the bars and groaned.

He had been so stupid. What had gotten into him? If someone recognized him - if someone saw him playing the violin, saw his lack of an ID, and heard him speak. If they had remembered the news about a violinist from the Jiang family all those years ago, before the fire, before the world had gone to shit. If they had put the pieces together, he would be as good as dead. And now he was trapped, in a metal box.

Metal's not very flammable, he thought, and laughed to himself in the dark. At least he wouldn't go out like all the others.

He was sick to his bones of running. He was tired of constantly moving from city to city, always looking behind your shoulder, never putting two feet down in the same place. Music was the one thing from his past that he had never been able to give up. And now look where it had gotten him.

Madam Jiang had always called him an idiot with a self-destructive streak. She was right, of course. Maybe that was why he had decided to go out in public like a madman, and perform one of the most politically insensitive pieces to ever be written.

Behind him, metal chains rattled.

Wei Wuxian jerked upright. In his self-pitying mood, he had wrongly assumed that he was alone in this cell. Now, as he saw movement in the far corner, Wei Wuxian realized that he had been wrong.

The movement resolved into the shape of a man, long-haired and dirty, shackled to the stone bench by two metal cuffs on each hand. His clothes were wrinkled and smudged with the dirt from the floor of their cell. He seemed to have just woken up.

"Hey," Wei Wuxian said nervously.

The long-haired man took one look at him, jerked to his feet, and roared.

It was such an animalistic sound, loud and insane, filling up the small space. Wei Wuxian cringed backwards, holding his hands up, and watched in horror as the man lunged towards him.

This is it, he thought. This is how I'm going to die. Locked in a cage with a madman, after going mad myself. Fitting end, quite poetic. Not that anyone will know how my story ends.

There was a series of clatters and a loud crash as the madman ran out of slack on his metal chains. He tugged hard against them, but they pulled his arms backwards until they were nearly out of his shoulder sockets. His eyes were wild, glinting in the low light, and completely empty.

Wei Wuxian felt a chill go down his spine. He had seen a lot of people go mad in his lifetime, more than his fair share. Some just snapped when they lost everything, some due to long-standing health issues, and some due to grief. This man had the same uncaring quality to his movements, like shredding his body apart didn't matter, only this new threat right in front of him.

Despite the fear that had a tight grip on his throat, Wei Wuxian could only feel pity.

"Hey," Wei Wuxian soothed. He gentled his voice, lowering his hands. "Hey, hey there, friend. It's just me. Little old me, nothing to be afraid of."

It seemed to be working. The roaring died off as the sound was replaced by Wei Wuxian's voice.

"Easy, easy. I'm just a street musician, you know, the kind that grows from pavement and has nowhere else to go. I'm just a ghost, just like you."

The long-haired man had gone silent, eyes blank, but at least he was no longer roaring. Wei Wuxian prattled on, too terrified to stop talking.

"I wonder how long they've kept you down here? Was it a long time? No? Not something you wanna talk about? Okay then, okay, easy, let's talk about something else. Let's talk about something we both like. Music? Do you like music?"

He drew several deep breaths. The last thing he wanted to do was panic. That would only set this madman off. He had to project calm, somehow.

He had never known much about calm. Life had always been a mad, desperate struggle for survival. Even before the last few years of his life on the run, nothing had ever been easy. There had only been a few precious moments where he had truly experienced something calm.

Unthinkingly, he hummed a refrain that came to his mind just then. It was a slow melody, easy rises and easy falls, and humming it forced him to breathe properly. Calm suffused him like a deep breath after a long drought of air.

The madman stopped straining against his restraints. His head tilted to one side, and slowly, his shoulders eased.

Wei Wuxian didn't realize that he had been in the dark until the light suddenly turned on, a loud clack of a switch being turned. The overhead lights popped into existence with one bright flash after another.

He spun around to see who had come in, and found himself face-to-face with the last person on earth he expected to see.

The man standing in the doorway looked like he was a marble statue come to life, with his white clothing and pale skin, and his icy expression. There was a deep-set bitterness in his eyes, and when they landed on Wei Wuxian, they pinned him to the spot like golden anvils.

Wei Wuxian was unprepared for the way his heart wrenched in his chest like a heartbeat gone sideways.

Lan Wangji took his hand away from the wall. He came forward to stand in front of Wei Wuxian, never looking away, and never letting him go with that heavy gaze. Silently, he came to a stop with only the bars in the cage separating them.

Wei Wuxian forgot how to breathe.

It had been years since he had stood in the same room as Lan Zhan, years since they'd watched the stars fall and the skies burn and their little world end together. He knew Lan Zhan's face as well as his own, a consequence of watching the other man grow up in the public eye as one of the country's most famous prodigies. He had followed the other man's success obsessively, had longed for a world where they could stand on the same stage again. But even in his wildest dreams, he had never imagined that he would ever meet Lan Zhan face-to-face in this lifetime.

His heart was still doing that strange thing, beating sideways, hurting him even as it pumped lifeblood through his veins. Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan. He wondered if this was what dying felt like.

He was saved by the warning rattle of metal behind him. The madman had gotten restless again, now with two intruders in his space. With a loud roar, he yanked violently at his chains. This time, one of them popped free.

"Wen Ning!" Another voice shouted from down the hallway. In the next instant, another two policemen were running into the room, opening up the cell door. Wei Wuxian stood back as they both launched themselves at the madman. One held him up, and the other drew back his fist, holding a baton.

"Hey!" Wei Wuxian grabbed the second man's wrist, stopping the baton in the air. "What are you doing?!?"

"What are you doing? Let go!"

"No! Why are you hitting him? He's done nothing wrong!"

"The fuck are you on about?" The policeman yanked his baton roughly out of Wei Wuxian's grip, making him hiss with pain.

In the next instant, the baton had disappeared. The first policeman was suddenly backing away, hands raised, looking regretful. The second policeman turned to stare at Lan Zhan, who had entered the cell with them.

Silently, Lan Zhan took the baton that he had taken from the policeman, and flung it far away from them all. It landed into the wall with a violent crash.

He didn't say anything, just turned his eyes on the two policemen, who were now going pale with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, sir," the first one stammered. "We didn't mean to, uh -"

"He started it," the second one complained sullenly. He was clearly a little hurt about his baton being thrown like that. "I wouldn't've -"

Lan Zhan's eyes narrowed into a glare. Both policemen shut up.

Wei Wuxian stared at Lan Zhan in utter amazement. Up close, he was an impossible presence to look away from. He was a spotless stain of pure white in the crowded, grimy cell, somehow untouchable and unaffected by the uncertainty of those around him. He moved with a purpose, going to the cell door and pushing it wide open.

"Come on," Lan Zhan said quietly, and it took Wei Wuxian a moment to realize that he was speaking to him. "I'm getting you out of here."

Wei Wuxian followed, because the other option was to stay in a room with a madman and two policemen, and Lan Zhan seemed like much better company.

He followed Lan Zhan up a flight of stairs, his heart in his throat, barely able to breathe. Why? Why was Lan Zhan here, of all places? Had he slipped up? Had he been recognized? But how had he been found this fast?

They were met by another group of policemen at the top of the stairs. They milled around in their office space, with long plastic desks and paper spread out across every available surface. Most of them didn't move to apprehend the two of them, which Wei Wuxian took as a good sign.

To his surprise, the two boys from the square were also there. Their faces lit up when Lan Zhan came into view.

"You found him!" one exclaimed. After a moment, Wei Wuxian placed him as Sizhui, the one who had recognized him first in the square. He was still wearing his white uniform, a silk shirt with traditional-style buttons around his collar and throat.

"Wow, so he really was arrested," the other one - Jingyi - said. He was staring openly at Wei Wuxian, with such an honestly puzzled look that Wei Wuxian almost called him out for being rude.

"I'm so sorry to trouble you with this, sir," Sizhui said formally to Lan Zhan, who just shook his head to say that it was no trouble at all.

"Does this mean that we're really going with him?" Jingyi turned to ask. "He's gonna be our new violinist? When we don't even know his name?"

"Shhhhh, Jingyi! Why do you have to be so loud?"

One of the men in green-uniforms broke away from the crowd to approach Lan Wangji.

"Sir," one of them said, casting an uneasy glance at Wei Wuxian. "Are you sure about this? He … has not exactly been cooperative, so far."

"He's with us," Lan Wangji said coldly.

The man was not deterred. "But he was found performing in Tiananmen Square!"

"The Gusu Lan Conservatory has blanket permission to perform anywhere in this city," Lan Zhan replied. "He's a transfer, so he hasn't learned all of our rules yet, including those about performances in certain areas. But he hasn't broken any laws, and he shouldn't be here."

"Yyyyyyyyess," Wei Wuxian said, staring at him. His mind went around in circles so fast that he felt like he was going to explode. Was it possible? Did Lan Zhan not recognize him after all? Had those two boys told him about Wei Wuxian instead? "Yes, yes exactly that. I'm a transfer student. I'm from overseas!! Hahahahaha did I not mention that before? Yeah, about that, I'm totally new here."

He scooted over behind Lan Wangji, peeking over his shoulder at the policeman. He felt so lightheaded with relief that he could fly.

To his shock, Lan Wangji tolerated all his flitting about with no more than a quelling glance.

"Let's go," he said. Then, he took Wei Wuxian by the wrist and didn't let him go.

"Wait," Wei Wuxian said, suddenly realizing that this entire thing was a horrible idea. He should not be here. In fact, this was the very last place on earth that he should be right now. "I can't go in there. I'm sorry. I - I should go. Thank you for bailing me out and everything. I probably owe you my life. But, um -"

They were in a black taxi, one of those fancy cars where the driver wore white gloves and there was more than enough space for the four of them. The kids sat in the back, chattering amongst themselves. Wei Wuxian had the middle row all to himself, for all the good it did, with him sitting so rigidly. Lan Zhan, whether out of consideration or well-earned arrogance, sat up front in the shotgun seat.

"What are you talking about?" Sizhui asked, when it was clear that Lan Zhan wasn't going to respond.

Wei Wuxian squeezed his eyes shut, as if that could somehow block out the sight of large marble gates and metal fences swinging shut behind him.

The words GUSU LAN CONSERVATORY OF MUSIC were carved out in fancy letters, on a large stone plaque that looked like it had come from the mountains.

Oh god, he hadn't been here in years, and he could still remember the green fields and the gently sloping paths, the little waterfalls that led into the school campus. He could still see it all behind his eyelids. There would definitely be people here who would recognize him eventually, even if by some miracle Lan Zhan hadn't.

"I feel sick," he said faintly. "Can you stop the car? Can you let me out?"

Sizhui glanced up at Lan Zhan, concerned. "Do you think he's alright?"

Wei Wuxian moaned pitifully for added effect.

"Ignore him," Lan Zhan said mercilessly. To the driver, he said: "Could you drop us off at the left gate, please?"

"Oh my god," Wei Wuxian held his head in his hands. His head really was spinning, now. "I'm being kidnapped. Somebody help. Please! Somebody help me!"

"For the last time," Jingyi told him, irritation creasing the skin between his eyebrows. "You're not being kidnapped, you're being saved! You're being offered the chance of a lifetime!"

"See, I still don't understand that part," Wei Wuxian whined, even though he was probably twice the age of these kids, and definitely too old to be whining. "Why would you want someone like me to perform in one of your orchestras? Aren't you guys supposed to be one of the most famous, sought-after groups in the world?"

"Well, not exactly," Sizhui interjected before Jingyi could get too heated. "This is a different orchestra, one that's not associated with Gusu Lan. Han Guangjun is looking for people to fill in spots for a new group, one that'll be playing different music."

That caught Wei Wuxian's attention. "Different music? How?"

Most of the orchestral groups in China only played state-sanctioned pieces, those composed by Chinese composers and written only in the last fifty years. There had been such a vast body of music created in the last few decades that people were beginning to call it a new Era of music, just like Classical or Baroque.

Wei Wuxian thought it was all propaganda. He hated the thought of music with every single note scanned by machines for inoffensiveness or political correctness.

"Wait a second," he said. "Is that even allowed?"

Lan Sizhui grinned at him, a quick, rebellious flash of a smile.

Wei Wuxian gaped. Were they serious about this?

"But therein lies the problem," Jingyi said. "Not a lot of people are willing to risk their careers over something like this. Han Guangjun is obviously untouchable. We are too, but it's not like we needed to ever leave Gusu Lan for our careers anyway. But for other students, or other people who came here to join our orchestra, that's not a luxury they have."

"And so, we have a personnel problem," Sizhui said.

"And that's how we found you," Jingyi said.

"What? Me? Where do I come into this story?"

"Well, you've been performing a bunch of classical pieces in Tiananmen Square, haven't you?"

"A different piece each day, apparently, even if you do butcher them sometimes."

"I heard you playing one day and recognized the song - we've been learning classical pieces in secret, you see."

"Han Guangjun said our education wouldn't be complete without them," Jingyi added in a confidential tone.

Sizhui went on right over him. "And I overheard Han Guangjun talking to some people about not having enough violinists. And there you were, so..."

Wei Wuxian stared at them both. "So you decided to - to recruit me?"

"Well, that decision ultimately rests with Han Guangjun," Lan Sizhui said. "I thought he was going to ask you to play, but then you got arrested, so I suppose he must have thought it would be easier to bail you out first instead."

"And you think I'll agree to this?"

Lan Jingyi frowned at him impatiently. "Why not?" he asked. "We're offering you free room and board. We're almost giving you a scholarship. All you have to do is join our new orchestra. That's a pretty sweet deal, if you ask me. You can't turn that down."

"Oh, watch me," Wei Wuxian said, and turned to leave.

He made it halfway to the door before stopping short, because Lan Zhan was there, blocking the doorway.

He froze up again. It wasn't that Lan Zhan was physically imposing, or - okay, yes he was, just a little. It also wasn't because of Lan Zhan's implacable, immovable presence, the kind that made you think he would always get his way, no matter what. Wei Wuxian didn't understand it. It was just that, whenever Lan Zhan appeared before him, Wei Wuxian forgot all about running away.

"Good job keeping him busy," Lan Zhan said to the two boys. They both beamed at him in response.

Wei Wuxian gaped. Keeping him busy? Keeping who busy? Him?

"Hey," he said, a little more sharply than he intended. He stepped forward and - out of some stupidly suicidal impulse - decided to get right up in Lan Zhan's face. "I'm right here. Don't just ignore me. Why are you doing this? If you're not letting me leave, then you're not much better than the police."

"I brought you this," Lan Zhan said, and lifted up a black violin case.

Everything else went flying right out of Wei Wuxian's head - his fear, his confusion, his worries, all of it.

"Oh!" Wei Wuxian yelled ecstatically. "My violin! You got it back for me!"

He swept the violin case up into his arms, hugging it fiercely to his chest. A rush of emotion nearly made tears come to his eyes. He didn't think his sanity would last much longer without his violin. It had stayed by him for so long. It was probably the only thing he had left of his past, the one thing he couldn't lose.

Looking up, he realized that he was inches away from Lan Zhan's face. Light brown eyes studied him, and they were just as paralyzing as they were before.

Wei Wuxian froze up again, but this time out of pure terror. Had he acted too much like his younger self? Had Lan Zhan just recognized him?

But then Lan Zhan blinked and drew back, looking oddly guilty. It only lasted for an instant, though. In the next moment, he was all icy poise again, cold and professional.

Something strange and painful rose up in Wei Wuxian's chest. He watched Lan Zhan and wondered. Do I want him to recognize me?

"Are you gonna audition him now?" Jingyi asked.

Lan Zhan shook his head imperceptibly. "No need. I've already heard him play."

Wei Wuxian unfroze. "When?"

Lan Zhan didn't answer.

"I've been told that you can play the violin," he said. "Can you play Julius's Seventh Movement in E minor?"

"Hmmm," Wei Wuxian pretended to consider. "Remind me how that one goes again?"

The two boys froze, shocked and panicked.

"He can," Sizhui said a bit nervously. "He's, uh, he's just not being super cooperative right now. Can you give him a bit of time? Does he really have to audition now?"

Lan Zhan ignored them. He fixed his eyes on Wei Wuxian.

"Play it," he said. Something in his tone wrapped around Wei Wuxian's chest, reached inside, and pulled out every last thread of longing that had been trapped there.

Wordlessly, Wei Wuxian lifted his violin to his shoulder.

He forgot where he was, forgot all the eyes on him except for the only audience that mattered. Lan Zhan, who had seen him do this countless times before, who might still recognize him if he played like he usually did.

So Wei Wuxian played, sticking to every note without any added improvisations and remaining painfully accurate to the script.

"Alright," Lan Zhan said, not looking at Wei Wuxian, not looking at his piano, not looking at anything. His gaze was far off in the distance. For some reason, the sight of him like this made Wei Wuxian unbearably sad. Lan Zhan closed the piano lid with a quiet click, and stood up. In the resulting silence, Sizhui and Jingyi looked at each other, elation filling their faces.

"We have our concert soloist."

Chapter Text

[13 years ago]

"Wei Wuxian! Stop improvising!"

The orchestra came to a screeching halt. The conductor looked stiff with rage. If he had a spare baton to throw, there was no doubt that he would have thrown it already at the student on the fourth row.

Wei WuXian ducked, just in case.

"Sorry!" he called out. Then, dramatically dialing down his volume, he added in a small voice, "I got bored…"

Beside him, Jiang Cheng gave him an annoyed look, clearly thinking can't you behave for once? He hadn't noticed the improvisation though, and his brow furrowed.

Lan Qiren was famous for being equally strict and competent as a conductor. Anyone who made it into his Youth Orchestra program was guaranteed to improve by leaps and bounds.

Wei WuXian had, unfortunately, gotten on his bad side early on. As a result, many of their rehearsals had derailed like this: with Lan Qiren picking on every little thing Wei Wuxian did wrong.

At the piano, Lan Wangji sat with his hands folded in his lap. He had stopped playing instantly once Lan Qiren had called for a stop. It was almost as if he had expected it. Wei Wuxian glanced at him curiously, but there was no support to be had from the conductor's prized nephew.

"Stand up," Lan Qiren commanded. Wei Wuxian shot to his feet. The conductor frowned at him. "This last section - was the orchestra rushing or not?"

"We were rushing," Wei Wuxian admitted.

"And the dynamics? Too loud or too soft?"

"Too loud."

"And why is that a problem?"

"The audience won't be able to hear the piano solo."

"Correct. And now, tell me - how do we fix this?"

The correct answer was more practice. More practice was, almost invariably, the answer to all music-related improvement problems.

Wei Wuxian hesitated. The entire room held its breath.

 "Hook up a mic to the piano?" he suggested.

Beside him, Jiang Cheng sighed and dropped his face into his hands.

Lan Qiren's face changed into an alarming shade of red, then purple. Brandishing his baton, he roared:

"GET OUT!"

"You weren't wrong, you know."

Nie Huaisang waved his bow around delicately. It was lightly decorated with silver inlays, a hallmark of his status as a wealthy young socialite with parents that doted on him just a bit too much. Still, his smile was genuine and warm. "There are too many of us in the orchestra, way more than there were a few years ago. If we need to hook up a mic to the piano, why not? I'd breathe a lot easier not having to play everything at pianissimo."

They were on break. Students spilled out of the rehearsal room to stretch their legs in the hallways, get water from the water fountains, or go to the bathrooms. Wei Wuxian had found himself a comfortable looking ledge next to a window, and sat with his violin in his arms held guitar-style. He plucked at the strings as he replied.

"I really didn't mean to say it out loud. I just thought, well, Lan Zhan practices more than all of us and never makes mistakes. It would be nice if it was easier to hear him, you know?"

"Worry about yourself first," Jiang Cheng dug his elbow hard into Wei Wuxian's knee. He held his own violin tucked underneath one arm, and held his own bow dangling by its tip. He scowled up at Wei Wuxian. "Why did you have to go off and improvise? Just because you hardly make any mistakes either doesn't mean you have to go out of your way to create the mistakes."

"I couldn't help it," Wei Wuxian whined. Then, he caught sight of Lan Wangji, who had just come out of the rehearsal room. His face brightened, and he waved energetically.

"Hey!! Lan Zhan! Lan Zhaaaan!"

Jiang Cheng shot him another annoyed look, hissing "Keep it down!". But Wei Wuxian just ignored him.

"We should all go hang out after practice!" Wei Wuxian beamed, his eyes forming small crescent moons. In response, Lan Zhan turned his head and simply walked away. Wei Wuxian's smile dropped into a pout.

"He's ignoring me!"

"Of course he's ignoring you! Especially after you disrupted rehearsal like that. I wouldn't be surprised if he thought you were a good-for-nothing troublemaker. He probably hates you just like his uncle does."

"Is that so?" Wei Wuxian rubbed the back of his neck, looking unbothered. "He never says anything, so it's hard to tell though…"

"Wei Wuxian!" Someone opened the door to the rehearsal room and called out to the hallway.

"Here!" Wei Wuxian called back.

"Lan Xiansheng wants to speak to you!"

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng gave each other matching apprehensive looks. Then, Jiang Cheng hooked an arm around his leg and tugged Wei Wuxian off of his ledge.

"Go face your punishment," Jiang Cheng sighed. Next to him, Nie Huaisang gripped his bow tightly, as if he were the one about to be sent in.

"It'll be fine," Wei Wuxian reassured him. "What's he gonna make me do? Suzuki books?"

His punishment, indeed, was Suzuki books.

All twelve of the Intermediate level ones, to be exact. And he had to have them all memorized by the end of the month. And he would be barred from rehearsal until then. He would be locked into a practice room, redoing the basics, while Lan Qiren whipped the rest of the orchestra into shape.

"You deserve it," Jiang Cheng said, not unsympathetically. He clapped Wei Wuxian on the back. Nie Huaisang made a well, what can you do? gesture.

"I'll just memorize them last-minute," Wei Wuxian said. He was not moping. A whole month! Alone! He was going to go crazy! "I'm good at cramming things into my brain. That is, if I don't die of boredom first."

The door to the practice room opened, and all three of them froze as Lan Wangji looked up from the piano inside. A few notes of La Campanella cut off abruptly.

"Sorry," Wei Wuxian said immediately. His face had gone pale. "I didn't realize this room was being used."

"Nope!" Jiang Cheng said, checking the room number. He huffed a breath of disbelieving laughter. "This is the right room. Looks like Lan Xiansheng decided to put a watchdog on you after all."

"Wait." Wei Wuxian's face drained. "You mean … he's here … to make sure I actually play through all those books?!? Are you serious?"

He looked to Lan Wangji, who had already returned his attention to the sheet music in front of him. It was clear that this was the case. He just didn't seem to find it necessary to clarify.

"Seems like it."

"Oh no," Wei Wuxian slumped against the doorway.

"Have fun," Nie Huaisang gave Wei Wuxian a sympathetic pat.

And just like that, the two of them left him to his fate.

Wei Wuxian slowly inched the door closed, then sighed and unslung his violin case from his back.

"You don't mind, do you?" he asked, before setting it on top of the piano. The room wasn't small. Even with two people in it, it could comfortably fit an upright and a few music stands, one plastic chair and a piano bench. Wei Wuxian scooted a little closer, to take a look at what music Lan Wangji was playing.

Instantly, Lan Wangji snatched his music off of his stand. They stared at each other for a moment. And then Lan Wangji reached to one side, then dropped a stack of Suzuki books in front of Wei Wuxian.

"I know you were playing La Campanella," Wei Wuxian complained good-naturedly. He set his elbows on the upright piano too, ignoring the Suzuki books. "You don't have to hide it from me. Hey, let's make a deal. If you let me go off and do my own thing, I won't bother you, and you don't have to watch over me. How does that sound?"

Lan Wangji gave him a flat look.

"I'll take that as a yes?" Wei Wuxian said hopefully. He edged towards the door.

His lips thinning, Lan Wangji stood up and went to the door. He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a thin, silver key that he then inserted into the lock. While Wei Wuxian was still staring at him, he turned it with a little click, and locked the door.

Wei Wuxian's jaw dropped.

Lan Wangji went back to the piano.

"Did you just lock me in?"

No reply.

"Hey! Lan Zhan! You do realize that you just locked both of us in here, right?"

Lan Wangji calmly reached into his bag, and pulled out a pair of noise-canceling headphones. It was an incredibly clear and effective threat. As much as Wei Wuxian hated being ignored, he hated not being able to be heard even more. Wei Wuxian's protests became incoherent spluttering.

"Hey! Hey!"

It was no use. He had no choice but to behave.

Lan Wangji set his fingers to the piano, and started playing the first few bars of Suzuki, Vol I, Intermediate, Etude in C Major.

Wei Wuxian had to hand it to him. There was nothing sadder than a piano accompaniment with no violin melody to it. The music tugged at him, even though he despised its rhythmic monotony.

Despite his annoyance, Wei Wuxian couldn't help but feel a little strange. Something about the way Lan Wangji played was … clean. Refreshing, somehow. There were no extra movements and obviously, no wrong notes. Wei Wuxian couldn't leave it alone. He reluctantly put his instrument to his chin and began to play.

He didn't even get a break. As soon as they finished the first piece, Lan Wangji simply turned the page and went on to the second, dragging Wei Wuxian along with him.

When they had finished the entire book, the hour was over. Rehearsal was finished, so Lan Wangji stood up and unlocked the door, letting Wei Wuxian go free.

They hadn't even spoken a single sentence to each other the entire time.

Wei Wuxian was going to die.

No, seriously. He was going to die.

The practice room was stuffy. The sounds coming from the upright piano were pleasant, but the expression on the face behind it was anything but. Wei Wuxian had spent long hours in small rooms before, but never like this. The soundproofing made everything sound slightly tinny, like they were both trapped in a music box. When they were like this, it felt like they were the only two people that existed in the world.

Over the next few days, he tried anything and everything he could think of to get Lan Wangji to talk to him.

He tried to sulk in silence, but that honestly only lasted five minutes because Lan Wangji seemed to actually enjoy silence.

He tried to play, but only slightly wrong. He tried adding in little flourishes, trills where there weren't supposed to be any. Lan Wangji would simply stop, fold his hands in his lap until Wei Wuxian put his bow down, and start over. He really was the most passive-aggressive person Wei Wuxian had ever met. Wei Wuxian honestly had no idea why it delighted him so much to discover this.

He tried making conversation, but one-sided conversation was hard when all he got back were one-word replies.

"Are you shy?" he once asked, leaning in close. He wanted to tease Lan Wangji for some reason.

A part of him, small and lonely, desperately wanted to be able to banter and laugh with Lan Wangji the way he had been able to with Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang. All of his other friends had been easy to come by. This was his first time having so much trouble. So many people called him open and friendly and easy to get along with. Why couldn't he get Lan Zhan to like him?

But then Lan Wangji had glared at him, and Wei Wuxian had noticed how pale his eyes were. And then the next thing he knew, he was just standing there, dazed, until Lan Wangji started up the next piece.

Time passed, and eventually Wei Wuxian only had one recourse left - he did what he was told.

The results were surprising.

He found that the most at peace they ever were with each other was when they played together, perfectly in sync. Then, they could trade melodies back and forth, calm and measured, breathing together during rests, and counting together before coming in.

It was like all the tension from earlier completely melted away. It was like he had never been bored, or angry, or rebellious before in his entire life. He chafed often against the rules because they seldom made sense to him, but this did - the even tempo, the clear notes.

Wei Wuxian loved the expressiveness of the violin. He loved big solos and elaborate tricks you could do, all the secret techniques that weren't really secret once you had mastered them.

But when he played with Lan Wangji, he slowly realized that he loved something as well.

It was a feeling he'd never really been able to grasp before - being half of a whole, being able to fit the sounds you made into the shape of another's. The subtle adjustments each made, to harmonize better. The quiet awareness.

The hours they spent together always went by in a blur, no matter how much he complained about it later.

Wei Wuxian couldn't understand it. It should have been suffocating, in that little practice room, the minute hand ticking by at uneven intervals. He should have hated it, being trapped in a space with someone who rarely spoke, and wouldn't laugh at his jokes.

But the truth was, he didn't hate it. Not one bit.

Wei Wuxian was two weeks in when he discovered something wonderful.

If he played through an entire book, and made no mistakes, and there was still time on the clock, sometimes, Lan Zhan would look at him and shrug, as if to say what's next is up to you.

He had been unusually obedient, that day. Wei Wuxian felt that he deserved a reward. Putting his violin down from his chin, he was surprised to discover that he was actually a little warm. The practice room had been chilly when he'd first entered, but it had gone up several degrees since.

"Hey, Lan Zhan," he said. He plopped himself down on the piano bench, next to Lan Wangji. "Don't you think I deserve an award?"

"What reward?"

The answer shocked him. Wei Wuxian blinked at Lan Wangji for a moment. He was… offering? A reward?

Then he was met with an even more shocking sight: Lan Wangji smiled at him.

It was a soft, barely-there upturn of the lips. But Wei Wuxian felt as if the gates to heaven had opened and he had been blinded by the sunlight pouring through. He floundered for words. "A reward - well, a reward should be - should be anything you think it should be! What kind of rewards are there? Are you really offering? Then - Lan Zhan, will you play something for me?"

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He realized that he had been leaning too far forward into Lan Zhan's space. With a start, he pulled back.

"Play you something," Lan Zhan said, tilting his head. He was considering it! Wei Wuxian felt so lightheaded he thought he would die. "What do you want me to play?"

"Anything!" Wei Wuxian blurted out. "Anything you play is good.You're…really good, Lan Zhan. I've always admired that about you."

Lan Zhan had never made any mistakes whenever they played together. Wei Wuxian could have called him a robot to tease him, but it wouldn't be true. No matter how perfectly he played, it never became metallic or soulless. There was always a strange, refreshing quality to it. He wanted to listen to it all the time. He wanted to fall asleep to it.

Realizing what a turn his thoughts were taking, Wei Wuxian snapped out of it by waving his arms around wildly. His violin was still in his hand, though, so he quickly brought his hands - and his instrument - back into a safe cradle.

"Yeah, okay, I've decided," Wei Wuxian said. He beamed. He couldn't help it. "Zhan ge~ play something for me!"

Lan Zhan didn't roll his eyes, but he shook his sleeves lightly and set his fingers on the piano keys. Wei Wuxian held his breath.

Lan Wangji breathed in, and started playing a song that Wei Wuxian had never heard before. 

Wei Wuxian cocked his head, listening to it.

He had been forced to memorize all the symphonies, etudes, opuses, what-have-you's that were in the common orchestral repertoire. He had memorized far more besides. You did not grow up in a musician's family without classical music playing in the background, and you did not grow up in an Asian household without constant little memorization games and tests. But he had never heard this piece before.

His heart did a complicated little squeeze. When Lan Wangji finished, for the first time in a long while, Wei Wuxian didn't know what to say.

His head felt like it was spinning. He couldn't breathe properly for some reason. The melody in that piece had simply swept him up in its gentle tide, and had carried his heart away.

"Well?" Lan Zhan was watching him, hands set behind him on the piano bench, looking deliberately relaxed. Wei Wuxian couldn't look at him for too long. He was suddenly aware - too aware - of how close they were sitting together on the piano bench.

"What is it called?" Wei Wuxian managed.

Lan Zhan looked away. "If you can't tell, then I won't tell you."

The challenge to Wei Wuxian's musical knowledge brought him up short. "What? Lan Zhan, at least give me a hint! What era is it from? Do I know the composer?"

Lan Zhan went a little red, pushing him away off the piano bench. Wei Wuxian didn't know why, but he suddenly wanted to know everything - where had Lan Zhan learned this piece? When had he found time to practice it? Had he played it for anyone else?

He needed to know!

"Time's up," Lan Zhan said shortly. Wei Wuxian did not have to look at the clock to know that - in fact - time was not up.

He got right up in Lan Zhan's face, trying to reestablish eye contact. His desperation led him to lean one hand on the piano, and push dangerously into Lan Zhan's personal space.

"Play it for me again," he demanded. Lan Zhan threw him a sharp, sideways glare that sent a warm thrill through Wei Wuxian's body. "Play it again! I wasn't paying enough attention, but it sounds familiar!"

"Time's up," Lan Zhan repeated, leaning away. His hand came up to push Wei Wuxian back, landing on his chest. His fingers were a breathless shock of sensation, through the thin layer of Wei Wuxian's shirt. "Leave. Go do - whatever you do, instead of bothering me."

"Lan Zhan -" Wei Wuxian felt like something was fizzling inside him, warm and bubbly. He could barely think straight. He didn't know what to say, other than Lan Zhan's name.

Lan Zhan, who was frowning at him in a way that meant he was trying not to smile. Lan Zhan, who was touching him lightly, even though it was to keep him away, for the first time ever. Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, who was adorable and precious and somehow funny in a way that Wei Wuxian had never expected him to be.

His heart did a strange, sideways stutter.

"I'll play it for you again tomorrow if you finish early," Lan Zhan said, not looking at him. Wei Wuxian beamed at him.

"Okay!" He exclaimed. "It's a promise!"

[Present]

Wei Wuxian woke up with the refrains of that song and that promise still echoing in his head.

For a long while, he stared up at the wooden slats in the ceiling above him. The air was cool, and fresh, from springtime. It was morning. It was quiet. He felt more peaceful than he had been for a long, long time. It was like a constant hum of background half-tone noise had finally shut off, leaving him in blissful silence.

Maybe being back here, back where everything had started, where everything had fallen apart, had stirred up old memories.

I'm ridiculous, he thought. I'm chasing after a melody that I can't seem to forget, even though after all these years, I still don't know what it's called.

He shouldn't be here. He could be found, easily. His true identity would be discovered, and then that would be the end of him.

But try as he might, Wei Wuxian found that he did not have the energy to move.

The most he could do was sit up, and stare at the wide open window above his bed. He was in an unfamiliar room. He didn't remember being moved here.

He thought:

I wonder if I'll ever hear it again.

Chapter Text

"So you're telling me," Wei Wuxian pointed to Sizhui, never mind that it was rude, there was a time for rudeness and this was one of them, "Your ‘new' and ‘experimental' orchestra group is composed of four people? You two, Jin Ling, and Lan Zha - Han Guangjun?"

"Five people," Sizhui corrected. "You're here now."

"Five people does not an orchestra make," Wei Wuxian said, as if it needed to be said. He gripped his head tightly in his hands. Why was he even explaining this? Was this even something that needed to be explained?

Lan Zhan stood impassively in the corner. He should be far too busy to sit there and watch over the three of them like this, but he gave no indication that he would move anytime soon. He didn't seem particularly inclined to join the conversation either.

Wei Wuxian couldn't quite look directly at Lan Wangji, so he focused his stare on the two younger ones instead.

"We're looking for more people," Sizhui said weakly.

"And when is your opening night?"

Sizhui avoided looking him in the eyes. "A couple months from now."

Wei Wuxian gave them his very best, very patented what-the-hell look.

He nearly turned to Lan Zhan for help. Setting up a new orchestra and pulling off a decent performance in a matter of months was ridiculous. It was impossible. Who were they kidding? What were they thinking?

"You don't happen to know any other classically-trained musicians in the area, do you?" Sizhui asked hopefully.

Wei Wuxian fell silent.

Ever since he had gone on the run, he had severed any connections with his former classmates. Seeing Lan Zhan had been enough of a shock. He knew where one other was, but he would sooner die than face Jiang Cheng again.

He did not want to remember. Even the thought of Jiang Cheng's name drove shards of pain through his heart. And besides, Jiang Cheng wasn't a classical musician. Not anymore.

"There's no point in asking him," Jingyi said. "Does he look like he knows anybody?"

"You never know," Sizhui argued back.

In any case, it was a rare sight to see members of Gusu so willing to throw money around. They were a famously insular group. Whatever Han Guangjun was attempting to do with this orchestra, it had brought them so low that they were asking him for advice. The idea made him want to laugh, but it also made him want to go cry. He wondered if he was going mad.

Wei Wuxian blinked as an idea struck him.

"There is one," Wei Wuxian spoke quickly. His heart started to pound in his throat. Could he really do this? Well, there was no harm in it - he would be gone soon anyway. Might as well do one good deed on his way out.

"Who?" Jingyi asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"You won't like it," Wei Wuxian admitted. "You'll probably call me a madman for even suggesting it."

"It's alright," Sizhui reassured him. "In case you haven't noticed, Mo-gongzi, we're kind of desperate. We'll probably accept it anyway."

Wei Wuxian told them.

They both ended up being right.

"How the hell do you even know if he's a musician?"

Wei Wuxian gave Lan Jingyi a look.

"We're in China," he says a little flatly. "I can't throw a stone in any direction without hitting someone who has taken music lessons. You don't need musicians anyway. You need madmen with enough time to practice, and nothing to lose." After a moment, he added: "And besides, he needs help."

Jingyi shuddered and rubbed his arms as if he had gotten goosebumps. "I still don't see why you'd vouch for him."

Wei Wuxian shrugged. He led the way this time - because he still remembered the way to the police station where he had been held. He used to make it a point to know where the nearest one was, in case of - well, just in case.

He had wanted to bring along Lan Zhan for ammunition. Surely the police would be more likely to give up the madman in their custody if he was there. People just … did what Lan Zhan wanted them to.

They stopped in front of the police station - a squat, dirty white building crowded in between two others. The plastic sheet that served as the entryway showed moving figures behind it. Wei Wuxian sighed once he saw that the two Lan juniors were standing behind him, and that he would have to be the one to step in.

He squared his shoulders, attempted to look like he had any right to do what he was doing - and strode inside.

Ten hours later, they had their sixth member.

Wen Ning.

"Listen," Wei Wuxian said.

Lan Wangji glared.

In the corner, Wen Ning, the man from the holding cell, quailed.

Wei Wuxian quailed a little too. There was just something about Lan Wangji that made all his overblown confidence fly away.

He grinned nervously, and began to talk in a rapid-fire manner.

"Listen. It just didn't feel right leaving him back there. He clearly has no family, see? I just needed to get him out. Consider it a charity case. And besides, you need more members for your little group, right? I'm new, and even I can tell - this performance you're attempting, nobody else is going to want to do it."

Lan Wangji's eyes, if possible, narrowed even further. Wei Wuxian felt it like a chill going through his heart. He sped up.

"I mean! I'm sure you've already sent out audition notices to all the music groups in the country, and no one has signed up for it yet. Right? It makes sense, right? If they perform a piece like that, they'll get blacklisted from all the state-sponsored orchestral groups. No one will do it. That's why you got me, some random string-player you found on the street, to be your concert soloist. You couldn't put your own students into the line of fire like that, but for me it's fine."

Wei Wuxian crossed his arms. Lan Wangji wasn't saying anything, which meant that he had about a 50% chance of being right.

Wei Wuxian tried to push his nonexistent advantage.

"Look, I've already agreed. I'll be your concert soloist. What I don't get is this: why?"

This was actually something he was legitimately wondering about.

He had racked his brains for several sleepless nights, wondering: why Lan Wangji, the by-the-books perfectionist, would go against everything he had been taught? Had something happened, after years and years spent at the top of the music world? Had Lan Qiren signed off on this? There was no way in hell that would happen. Then, why?

"I felt like it," Lan Wangji said.

Wei Wuxian gaped. In the corner, Wen Ning stayed absolutely dead silent.

"F - fine," Wei Wuxian said, somehow feeling - unmoored. Like his feet had been swept out from underneath him. The Lan Wangji he remembered was not the type to make jokes. The Lan Wangji he remembered had been nothing like this, and yet, a strange sense of deja vu swept through him anyway. "Fine, have it your way. If you don't want to tell me, then -"

He caught a hint of a frown. Lan Wangji was glaring at Wen Ning now, and poor Wen Ning looked like he wanted to crouch down into a ball and disappear. Wei Wuxian could relate.

"Look, what's done is done." He stepped out in between the two. Lan Wangji looked, if possible, even more upset. "I'll take responsibility if something goes wrong. But I couldn't just leave him there, you know?"

He had met other madmen out in the streets. They hadn't all been like Wen Ning, unable to speak, but they had all been frightening.

The life of an individual without family or friends was like that of a ghost - people saw you, and ran away screaming. Or, worse, people looked right through you. It was as if you floated through the world, with nothing to hold you to solid ground, and yet you remained anyway.

He could have easily ended up like that, in another life. He had been halfway there already.

He and Lan Wangji stared at each other. Something must have shown on his face, because Lan Wangji suddenly turned away.

"Tell Lan Sizhui to find him a room," was all he said, before leaving out the door.

Wei Wuxian stared after him, dazed.

Had he - just won an argument against Lan Wangji?

What?

If he had shown this scene to the Wei Wuxian from ten years ago, he would have nearly cried with joy. They had spent so long matching wills, and Lan Wangji had come out on top every single time. This should have felt like karma.

But that look on his face - something twisted in Wei Wuxian's heart. He really hadn't meant to make Lan Wangji feel bad. That was the last thing he wanted to do.

Wei Wuxian caught himself with a jerk of his head.

Wait, no, what was he thinking?!? It shouldn't matter to him at all if Lan Wangji felt bad or not. Lan Wangji had been the one to drag him into this situation in the first place!

Wei Wuxian was just here to - here to - get a couple of free meals, participate in a sacrilegious orchestral performance that might make the government hate him forever, and then dip before they could catch him. He couldn't stay too long. He couldn't get comfortable.

He would just consider this the longest and most ridiculous gig he had ever been a part of. It wasn't like he hadn't played anything for food before.

Lan Wangji being a part of the equation would only complicate things. He needed a soloist. Wei Wuxian …

Wei Wuxian missed being in an orchestra.

The realization was a bitter one.

In the end, he still just wanted attention. He wanted the spotlight. He wanted to have others hear him, and have his notes soar above all the others on a brightly lit stage.

It was going to get him killed, this feeling, this longing.

Alright then, Wei Wuxian thought. He turned to look at Wen Ning, who had his head bowed down, and his long hair obscuring the rest of his face. Let's see how much good I can do before I die.

"Hey there," he said, putting on a bright smile. "So tell me, have you ever touched any instrument before?"

.

In the end, when all was said and done, they did have a sixth member. And if he was a percussionist, and not a violinist, then so be it.

Lan Sizhui went pale once he found out, but he was a good kid, so he said nothing and helped Wen Ning get settled.

Lan Jingyi's face turned red once he found out, and he was less of a good kid, so he spluttered: "Are you kidding me? Who has ever heard of an orchestra with a percussion section?"

"Deal with it," Wei Wuxian said, patting the top of Jingyi's head. He was technically concert master now, let alone ten years their senior. He felt like he had the right to order them around a little.

Jingyi slapped his hand away. "You don't get to order me around!"

Wei Wuxian used his trump card. "Well, if you have a problem with it, take it up with Lan Zhan."

As he had expected, Lan Jingyi had nothing to say to that.

Leaving him to open and close his mouth like a carp on land, Wei Wuxian looked around.

"Where is he, by the way?" Wei Wuxian carefully retrieved his hand before Jingyi got too annoyed. The hallway was mostly empty, and he had checked all the music rooms beforehand. Lan Zhan wasn't in any of them, but Wei Wuxian still felt like he owed Lan Zhan an explanation.

He hadn't intended to accuse Lan Zhan of anything. And he didn't want Lan Zhan to leave and feel bad all by himself. Who knew what that overly-stoic perfectionist was thinking? Wei Wuxian couldn't let him sulk by himself. He had to at least take a look.

"He's usually finishing up rehearsal by now," Sizhui offered helpfully. "If you need him, I can go find him for you."

"No, no need," Wei Wuxian waved him away. "Help get Wen Ning settled first. He's scary, but he's harmless. I talked to him a bit, and he's just a sweet kid who's a bit down on his luck. He shouldn't be any danger to you all. Take care of him, okay?"

"Will do," Jingyi grumbled. "What do you take us for?"

Wei Wuxian smiled at them, and at the end of the hallway, he went left, they went right, and they parted ways.

.

Wei Wuxian ended up wandering the halls of the music conservatory, pretending to get lost, but really just revisiting old haunts.

The white hallways were brightly lit despite the late hour. The building was old but well maintained. The practice rooms that he stuck his head in were all silent and empty. The music stands were scattered everywhere, but the seats were nearly lined up. They were still being used, probably, even if the warmth had long since dissipated from the room.

As he walked, he felt like he could hear echoes of laughter. Running feet ringing against the linoleum. Doors slamming open and closed, and the sharp bark of the conductor trying to wrangle all these overenthusiastic kids into shape. Being a student here for those few months must have been some of the happiest times in his life. Even when he had been yelled at, he had still been a part of the orchestra, and they had all been working towards a greater goal - a performance.

Only - Wei Wuxian's steps faltered.

Only, there had never been any performance.

Tilting his head back, Wei Wuxian regarded the speakers on the ceilings, where a voice had come over on the intercom that day and blared: JIANG CHENG, WEI WUXIAN, PLEASE REPORT TO THE ADMINISTRATOR'S OFFICE.

Where the two of them, shaken and pale faced, had received the news of the fire.

After that day, Wei Wuxian had lost his footing in the world. With all the rumors swirling about -

 - the Jiangs were involved in something shady - 

- I hear the Triads were involved - 

- Jiang Fengmian was too sentimental, he was too attached to the type of music Cangse Sanren played. Look where it got her. And look where it got him -

- his whole school, too! Those poor children! -

- corrupting the youth -

- some things you just shouldn't touch -

- must have offended someone powerful -

- there was no way he could stay.

With a silent shiver, Wei Wuxian came to a stop next to an old practice room.

It felt as if his feet had led him here, without thinking. Even though it had been years, a whole decade, since he had been here. A part of him had always wondered, if things had turned out differently, what that performance would have been like.

Silently, he nudged the door open.

The practice room was empty.

The piano was still there, albeit a newer one, a fancy Yamaha instead of the old beaten up Steinway that must be scrap wood by now. The chairs were different, too, and from the arrangement of seats around a set of music stands, a quartet must have been practicing here recently.

Wei Wuxian closed the door, breathing out a sigh.

Suddenly, he felt ridiculous. He wasn't here to relive old memories, and wallow in past regrets. He was simply here to survive.

He and Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Yanli - had all understood, that day. They had become pariahs in the musical world. Their family's school of music had been wiped out without a second thought, and no matter how much the papers insisted that it was an accident, it wouldn't be the truth.

And the musical world - Wei Wuxian's hands tightened on the door handle - the musical world had just abandoned them, too. Their sympathetic murmurs turned to damaging whispers as soon as their backs were turned.

Jiang Cheng had wanted nothing to do with music after that. Wei Wuxian…. had tried.

And failed, apparently.

Turning on his heel, Wei Wuxian made for the end of the hallway, where he could exit the building and get some fresh air. He suddenly felt like coming here was a mistake. There were too many ghosts here.

The doors opened out into a rainy night sky. The cool air blasted his face and stung his eyes, despite the warm springtime temperature.

Wei Wuxian took one step outside, and stopped abruptly.

Lan Zhan, standing just outside the doors with his hand extended, froze as well.

For a few moments, they just stared at each other, Lan Zhan surprised, Wei Wuxian stunned into silence.

"Hello," Wei Wuxian said, dazed.

The sound of the rain combined with the rushing in his ears until he no longer noticed the rain soaking into his clothes. "Why - what are you doing here?"

Lan Zhan had a violin slung over one shoulder. Wei Wuxian stared at it before remembering, right, Lan Zhan had grown up as the darling of the musical world. Of course he could play the violin too. Just because in his memories, Lan Zhan was always sitting at a piano, didn't mean that was the only thing he could play.

"Sizhui said you'd been looking for me," Lan Zhan said.

"Oh."

Lan Zhan looked like he had appeared out of a dream, dressed in concert whites and holding an umbrella in one hand. Wei Wuxian wanted to ask him if he was real or not.

He wanted, suddenly, to drag Lan Zhan back into a practice room and say play me our song. Tell me the past few years have been a lie.

"Are you alright?"

Wei Wuxian jerked his eyes back to meet Lan Wangji's. "Huh?"

"You look pale."

Lan Zhan came closer, also heedless of the rain. Gently, like it was in slow motion, he brought his hand up to Wei Wuxian's cheek. His fingers brushed away raindrops like they were tears, and hovered over his lips as if afraid to touch them. He was inches away now, eyes darkened by the lack of light, but still just as intense.

"Is it painful for you?" he asked. "Being here."

His little finger trailed against the line of Wei Wuxian's jaw. Wei Wuxian shivered. He couldn't answer. He couldn't even open his mouth to speak.

Something about Lan Zhan always did that to him - rendered him speechless. Breathless.

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Freeze up whenever you see me."

Wei Wuxian blinked. "Oh." So Lan Zhan had noticed. "I'm not sure why."

Something painful tugged the corners of Lan Zhan's mouth down. "Is it because you're afraid of me?"

"No."

"Then, what color are your eyes?"

Wei Wuxian didn't understand. What color were his eyes?

Grey, he almost said.

Then his voice caught in his throat. Cold horror swept through his body in a shock of sensation. He had spent so long on the run. He had spent so long being careful - hiding his eye color, hiding his true identity. Just because there was a familiar face from his past didn't mean that he could let his guard down.

He had hesitated too long. Lan Zhan dropped his hand. 

"You don't have to say it," he said. "I was just asking."

He took the door and pushed it open, letting Wei Wuxian come outside. Wei Wuxian moved out of the way, still in a daze.

"What do you mean?"

Ignoring him, Lan Zhan suddenly pulled something from his violin case as if remembering something.

"Here, take this."

A folder was plopped into his hands. Wei Wuxian stared at it, confused. Eventually, he flipped it open and found copies of sheet music, loose-leaf and stapled together. He knew what it was instantly, but he still had to ask:

"What?"

"Memorize these by next week," Lan Zhan said, locking the door to the building. He was no longer looking at Wei Wuxian, and his tone had changed into something brusque and distant. The lock turned with a loud, metallic click.

"I don't get it." Wei Wuxian felt as if he had just missed something important. He stared at Lan Zhan, trying to figure it out.

"It means, it's time to earn your room and board."

Wei Wuxian opened his mouth to say: I just found you another person to scapegoat during your crazy performance, haven't I done enough work for today? before thinking better of it.

Silently, he flipped through the music scores again. Halfway through, his scalp began to tingle, and his fingers began to shake.

The first piece was a Salazar piece. The second was Uleinn. The notes on the page were all achingly familiar. Madam Jiang's voice rang in his head - Jiang Fengmian! Why are you teaching them this?!? Have you still not gotten over her? 

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian said, numbly. "What is this?"

The corners of Lan Zhan's mouth curled, ever so slightly, upward, and there was something fierce in his smile.

"This is our repertoire."

Chapter Text

"Start from the top," Lan Zhan said.

Wei Wuxian put his chin on his violin's chin rest, and stared sightlessly at sheet music that he had memorized by age ten.

He knows who I am.

The thought wouldn't stop rattling around in his brain. He felt as if he had eaten something spicy, and it had turned his whole body numb. The knowledge sat inside him like a jug of heated alcohol, dangerous and heady and warm.

He had to make a decision. Fess up, or leave. Face the music or run away before Lan Zhan could ask him about it. He still had his violin. He knew a dozen different places where he could go to disappear. Should he go?

On his conducting platform, Lan Zhan gave the cue to start.

In their large practice room, the orchestra made a sound like a machine starting up, complete with unexpected screeching, before finally settling into a resonant hum.

Their little orchestra had really filled out. Jingyi had called in a few favors from his friends, a collection of hot-blooded youths who apparently had more loyalty than sense. One of them, Ouyang Zizhen, had listened to Wei Wuxian's lecture about how bad this could be for their career, and then had brightly promised him that he would change the world.

Wei Wuxian had been so embarrassed that he felt like he could cry. He had also been strangely touched. Nobody had performed any non-government-approved pieces in at least a decade. He had no idea how many people this performance might piss off, and he honestly didn't want to think about it. In any case, they were fifteen now, old enough to make their own decisions. And Wei Wuxian was definitely not someone that should be giving out advice regarding musical careers.

The piece they were practicing was one composed by Uleinn. The Uleinn piece was another full orchestral score, meant for roughly sixteen first and second violins, twelve violas, ten cellos and eight double-basses. With this many players, a conductor was vital. No matter how good you were, past a certain point, players just couldn't stay together well.

Lan Zhan's orchestra was a slightly pared-down version of this: eight first violins, six second violins, six cellos, and two double-basses. And one percussionist, pulling the weight of the entire nonexistent wind section.

"It's fine," Lan Zhan had said. And you know what? It had been.

More importantly, the Uleinn piece was his favorite piece ever.

Hearing the melody gave him shivers. Playing it over and over again never got old - forwards, backwards, one octave higher, lower, whatever. Wei Wuxian just really liked it. Simple as that.

They did a couple runs, going back to work on some of the trickier sections. Lan Zhan asked the first violinist if they were rushing. They were rushing. Sizhui admitted it in an instant.

"Don't rush," Lan Zhan said. As always, his conductor's notes were simple and concise.

Wei Wuxian fought down a smirk as he brought his violin back up to his shoulder.

He could wait until the day of the concert, he told himself.

He could stay here, and practice with the orchestra, and play the music he'd always wanted to play. He didn't have to go up on that stage. He could still love music without having to perform it.

Performances - the very thought of a real, live concert - terrified him.

And why should he have to face that fear? All he had to do was run. He was good at that, running. He'd go so far away that no one would ever be able to find him again.

There were ten days left. Ten days. He could wait for that long.

Then there were five days left until the concert.

Wei Wuxian was practicing so much that the days all started to blur into each other.

Four.

"I feel like we've almost got it, you know?" Jin Ling said, looking up at him hopefully.

Three.

"Almost."

Two.

"Just one more runthrough, we were so close -"

One.

On the day of the concert, nothing went according to plan. Sizhui of all people left his sheet music in his dorm rooms by accident. He had to rush back to go get it. Wen Ning had a nervous breakdown in the bathroom. Jin Ling showed up late, disheveled and furious and embarrassed about it. Something about a dog. Only, as Wei Wuxian scolded him, he was far past the age where dogs eating their homework worked as a valid excuse anymore. Even if that dog had slobbered all over his concert uniform - "You're a second violin, Jin Ling," Wei Wuxian had said to him. "No one will see you. Now go."

"But my ankles feel disgusting,"

"You won't notice it once you start playing."

"Ugh! Can't I just go home and change?"

Wei Wuxian gripped his head in his hands. "No!"

Distantly, he felt alarm bells ringing in the back of his brain. He was forgetting something important, he was sure of it. Something was out of place. Some kind of danger.

But he was needed here. Disasters were springing up left and right. Lan Zhan hadn't showed up yet, and so Wei Wuxian had been forced to lead the nervous orchestra through their paces. They had gone through several shaky runs on stage, with Wei Wuxian tapping the baton against the music stand as a way to keep the beat. Lan Zhan was never late. Wei Wuxian fought down a spike of worry. He couldn't just leave without seeing Lan Zhan one last time!

Okay. So he hadn't forgotten. He wasn't supposed to be here. If he showed up onstage, there was a very real chance that he'd be recognized for who he was. Bad things would happen. He didn't want that, yada yada. He should really leave. The sooner the better, in fact -

"Mo gongzi?" A panicked shout came from the bathroom. Wei Wuxian groaned.

"What is it now?" he yelled.

There was a brief pause. Then, strangely, loud retching sounds echoed out from what Wei Wuxian fervently hoped was a bathroom stall.

There was a beat. He and Jin Ling looked at each other, wide eyed. Then someone yelled back: "Nevermind! We're all good now!"

"No it's not," Wei Wuxian said, alarmed. "Who just threw up?"

When Lan Zhan finally arrived, it was to a high-strung but still functional orchestra. Wen Ning with some pepto-bismol in him. Jin Ling standing with his leg propped against the wall at a ninety-degree angle, with the bathroom blow-dryer running. Sizhui's fingers hadn't stopped trembling yet from the adrenaline, but at least he had stopped wearing his guilty expression, and now just looked focused.

"Sorry I'm late," Lan Zhan said, sliding into his conductor's chair. He looked at Wei Wuxian, who didn't tell him about the lost sheet music, or the shaky rehearsal, or the potential chain-reaction nervous breakdowns. Instead, Wei Wuxian just nodded. They were all set.

Lan Zhan gave him a small, grateful smile.

And all of Wei Wuxian's plans to escape crumbled like a flimsy house of cards.

They had been spending an alarming amount of time together outside of rehearsals. Lan Zhan hadn't seemed to be deliberately stopping Wei Wuxian from leaving. But they had so much stuff to work out - sheet music to print and venues to call and music stands to shuttle around and all sorts of logistics. Wei Wuxian was the only other person in the whole orchestra old enough to drive, so he ended up helping out most of the time. He hadn't wanted to get caught up in all this, but he just couldn't help himself.

A part of him was also desperately curious. How had Lan Zhan recognized him? Why did he even remember Wei Wuxian, after all these years? He'd watched Lan Zhan for any signs, but he wasn't even sure what he was looking for. After that one time, when he had touched Wei Wuxian's cheek, he hadn't gotten close again. Everything between them had remained strictly professional.

Or, at least as professional as it could get, with Wei Wuxian spending half his day staring at Lan Zhan, and the other half thinking about him. Maybe more than a half.

"Last run," Lan Zhan says. "The next one is onstage."

The black curtain that separated Wei Wuxian from the audience felt like a wall. He could tune them out completely, and focus on the stage, the glossy hardwood floors and black plastic chairs. It was an empty, achingly familiar sight. He hadn't been here since he was a child. In some ways, he had been chasing a place like this ever since he had lost it.

"Are you ready?" a voice behind him asked.

Wei Wuxian turned aside. Lan Zhan stood behind him, dressed in a white conductor's uniform. The Gusu Lan clouds were a pale touch of blue on his wrists and the hems of his jacket. Wei Wuxian himself was dressed in concert black, same as the rest of the orchestra. He honestly hadn't expected to ever wear this uniform again.

"I never thought I'd actually make it here," he said, offering Lan Zhan a wobbly smile.

The rest of the orchestra was streaming past them to get to the stage. Lan Zhan moved a little to get out of their way. Their shoulders touched.

When they were past, Lan Zhan was close enough that Wei Wuxian could breathe him in: sandalwood and clean soap, with the tiniest hint of sweat

"I wasn't sure either," Lan Zhan confided in a low voice. His eyes met Wei Wuxian's, and a sharp jolt of electricity seemed to pin Wei Wuxian in place.

He knows, he knows, he knows.

But if he knew, then why had he taken on such a dangerous risk? Losing a random member of your orchestra was fine, as long as the rest of the section still existed. Losing the soloist would have crippled them.

"I -" Wei Wuxian stumbled over his words. "I didn't know that - that - you -"

"That I what?"

Wei Wuxian took a deep breath.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked. "Seriously. What's in it for you? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I'm just curious."

A crease formed in between Lan Zhan's eyebrows. It was gone quickly. Oddly, Wei Wuxian found himself wishing that it were back, so that he could press his thumb there, and wipe it away.

"When I was young," Lan Zhan said. "I had a friend."

Suddenly, Wei Wuxian couldn't breathe.

"He was always getting into trouble," Lan Zhan continued, "He loved Beethoven but hated Suzuki. He disappeared during a government crackdown that went too far. I never found out what happened to him. These past few years, more and more people are forgetting what music sounds like - real music, not that state-sanctioned crap that passes for it these days. I thought that he would have hated it - living in a world where orchestras weren't allowed to play the music they wanted anymore. So I thought I'd do just that. I thought if I could bring one back, the other would follow."

The black stage curtains seemed to muffle the rest of the world around them. Wei Wuxian thought that he could distinctly feel the floor tilting underneath his feet.

"Is it really that important to you?" he asked distantly. "Me. Coming back."

Quickly, almost like Wei Wuxian had imagined it, Lan Zhan's hand came up to brush against his cheek. It was a flutter of sensation, there and gone again like a butterfly landing.

Lan Zhan hesitated, then said: "If you want, Wei Ying, I can introduce you under your real name."

Wei Wuxian froze.

Lan Zhan pulled back his hand. "You don't have to if you don't want to -"

"No," Wei Wuxian blurted out. He reached out to grab Lan Zhan's hand, and then realized what he was doing. He almost dropped it, but then decided against it.

Lan Zhan huffed a soft breath of laughter, and then dipped in close. Their lips touched, a warm, gentle contact that felt like a drop of honey on his tongue.

"Oh, wow. Okay," Wei Wuxian said. He felt a little dazed. "Okay, uh, this is happening, I guess." So much for running.

Lan Zhan laughed. Wei Wuxian felt like he was going to fall over.

"You okay?" Lan Zhan asked, amused.

"More than okay," Wei Wuxian said, starting to laugh. He didn't know why. Maybe he had fallen over after all. He felt like he could fly.

On stage, the orchestra had settled in. It was Lan Zhan's cue to walk out.

Wei Wuxian took a deep breath. Somewhere in his chest, something seemed to settle. He made his choice.

"Let me go to the bathroom first," he said. He couldn't help but smile. "There's something I need to do."

The man who walked out on stage looked like a completely different person than the hobo that had been practicing with them for their last few months.

Sizhui couldn't believe it. First off, their conductor had introduced him as "Wei Wuxian". Secondly, this ‘Wei Wuxian' had tied his long hair up into a high ponytail, and - what - were his eyes a different color now? They were way lighter than they used to be, and they shone a bright grey under the stage lights. He carried himself differently too. There was a gravity to him, a confidence in his smile that none of them had ever seen before.

Their conductor was the only one who didn't seem surprised.

"What the fuck is happening?" Jin Ling hissed from the second violin section. He caught Sizhui's eyes and looked just as confused as Sizhui felt.

Sizhui gestured back helplessly. In front of them, their conductor and the soloist seemed to be sharing some kind of inside joke, one that they both found incredibly funny, but no one else understood.

"Okay, focus," their conductor reminded them gently. Next to the podium, Wei Wuxian gave them all a small smile that promised he would explain everything later. More than a few members startled - they had noticed the different eye color too.

"Wen Ning, give us an A."

Back near the large and desolate wind section, Wen Ning picked up a hammer and struck A on the xylophone. Sizhui brought his violin up to his chin, and the orchestra started tuning their strings.

Wei Wuxian turned back to the audience. Sizhui watched him out of the corner of his eye. He was standing tall, his hands loose and relaxed around the neck of his violin. He looked like he could take on the world. He looked like he wouldn't run away from anything.

Lan Zhan caught Wei Wuxian's eyes and smiled.

Their audience was a black ocean in front of them, their faces dark, unknowable. But they had come here to listen. They were here to give their little patchwork orchestra, and their little rebellious dream, a chance.

Giving him a chance.

Wei Wuxian held Lan Zhan's eyes, and nodded.

The baton came down, and Wei Wuxian drew his bow across his strings.

After the applause had stopped ringing in his ears, Wei Wuxian went looking for Lan Zhan again.

They were in the music room, with both of them sitting on the piano stool, Lan Zhan's fingers were laid gently over the keys.

Wei Wuxian leaned his head on Lan Zhan's shoulder. For some reason, he couldn't stop smiling. He would have felt silly, if not for the fact that Lan Zhan was smiling too. Wei Wuxian turned his head to press a kiss to Lan Zhan's cheek.

"Play me our song," he said.