Archive of Our Own

Lan Xichen sighed, a small resigned sound he had heard at every disappointing turn of Lan Zhan’s social life, and said, “You really should get a haircut from someone other than me. Nie Mingjue’s younger brother has a friend, don’t look at me like that, a great guy who has experience with more traditional men’s cuts. He certainly won’t pass any judgements.”

Lan Zhan simply narrowed his eyes in response. His brother knew he was very keen to keep his traditionally long hair style without the disastrous falling out from last time. 

His last in-shop haircut had been approximately 8 years ago and no hair had been cut at the time; as soon as the woman brandished scissors at him saying “men should really have short hair, why don’t you try a two-block cut?” he simply got out of the chair and left. 

He had asked her for a trim, not her judgement. 

“And you can make the appointment online. I’ll text you the link.” His brother said as if that would make a difference. Lan Zhan would never admit to him that it did. As a man on tenure track, he told himself that his hesitation was due to lack of adequate research on the salon rather than his derision towards phone calls. 

The gingerbread excuse for a human being and supremely annoying Wen Chao was waiting outside his brother’s office as he left and unfortunately did not take the swinging door to his face. 

Shame.

Perhaps next time he should open the associate dean’s door more forcefully: Wen Chao could use a face full of mahogany.

He already had an ugly smirk plastered on which meant he was gearing up to attempt an insult, assuming his inferior intellect could even form one.

“Hey Lan Wangji, I heard your last submission was rejected, maybe if you spent more time interacting with real humans instead of—“

“You are not qualified to talk to me,” he interrupted and swept down the hall not bothering to hear whatever falsities Wen Chao could possibly spew forth. It was a travesty the university had accepted him at all, but he supposed it made sense that the trolls in chemistry would hire one of their own. Both in terms of poor personality and thriving nepotism. 

He was unable to decide which was more loathsome to him: that the department as a whole deemed sweatpants as business casual or that thousands of freshmen were crammed into auditoriums and forced to listen to drivel but expected to pass a course designed to fail them. It was an insult to the pedagogy of learning and his personal sense of fashion.

Rationally he understood that chemistry was a cornerstone of the Liberal Arts and Sciences College but he couldn’t say that if the Wen Ruohan's departement as a whole was swallowed up by a sinkhole of their own making he would be too sad.

His brother had to play fair with all departments and the politics alone made his head spin. But his brother was a far better person than he, well equipped and well trained by Uncle. 

He reached his office and set down his bag. A chirp from his phone told him Lan Xichen had probably shaken off Wen Chao and was back to needling his younger brother. 

He put his lecture materials away and then sat down before pulling out his phone to several messages in the PRE 4080 group WeChat. His best student and TA Lan Sizhui who had voiced goals of academia seemed to be attempting to organize a grading session to which his other TA, whom Uncle had expressed distaste for and as a consequence Lan Zhan liked all the more, was only committing to if Lan Sizhui brought the fried chicken he owed Lan Jingyi regarding some bet. 

Lan Zhan closed out of early 20s drama and instead opened his brother’s message.

The link brought him to a simple Weibo blog that had a button for appointments. He waffled; he could cut his hair himself. Would it be straight? No. Would that bother him until it was fixed? Yes.

Very well. He made an appointment for Thursday afternoon.

-

He spent the next two days in lectures, editing grant proposals, and attending a brief department meeting where Meng Yao argued passionately for a scholarship fund while Wen Chao complained about the number of vending machines. In a word, the usual. 

After a quick lunch in his office that was briefly disrupted by A-Qing dropping off graded MAC2313 quizzes, Lan Zhan exited campus and made his way to the salon on foot. The area was nicer than he thought; little shops and bookstores were nestled in hilly alleyways and he imagined if he walked further north he would be able to see part of campus from this vantage point.

Unfortunately, the blog directions were very unclear about the exact location. Was the stylist Batman? Why was the description so obscure? His printed map had him circling the same building until he looked across the street and spotted “Yiling Salon” etched onto the glass front of the neighboring building. Some of his earlier fascination disappeared with irritation. Normally the city was absolutely plastered with gaudy signs, and yet the one time he needed directions…

By the time he finally made it up the narrow stairwell he felt more ruffled than he would have liked. The bell tinkled at his arrival but there didn't seem to be anyone in the salon despite music playing softly. 

Until a man emerged from a staff only side room and asked, "Lan Wangji?"

Now, Lan Zhan knew he didn't connect with people in the regular way. He knew that despite a compass that always pointed north, his singularity was baffling to others. He knew he was strange, like his preschool teacher first observed of him and later his classmates. He was also "hella gay", as Nie Huaisang liked to tell their work colleagues in glee because the Liberal Arts College lacked boundaries; professionalism was a privilege for other colleges. 

This snowballed into a single moment where he took in the man in front of him.  

Put simply, in Lan Zhan’s suddenly static brain, he was very pretty. And Lan Zhan had always been drawn to complex, beautiful things. It was why he practiced guqin and majored in mathematics.

Even still, he hated that he couldn't control his reaction and hated that he could hear his uncle calling him "indecorous" and as such what exited his mouth was: 

"Bibi Zhou."

The man stopped wiping his hands on the towel and looked at him through the bangs that fell out of his ponytail in confusion.

"Your name is Bibi Zhou?"

"This playlist."

He was indelibly grateful for the man’s restraint in turning his mistake into a “dad” joke, a style that one of his students seemed particularly fond of.

“Oh, um yes. Please take a seat. I’ll be one minute.”

“Okay, One Minute.”

Who was he? He hated himself. He couldn't stop. Curse the long hours he spent in lab with Lan Jingyi.

“Pardon?”

“I. Um. Yes, I’ll take a seat.”

Hopefully the seat might swallow him whole.

He had some restraint upon furthering this disastrous social encounter and did not stare at the long legs walking away from him. 

Please get a hold of yourself, he thought. If Jin Zixuan ever heard about his failings in front of the most beautiful man he’d even seen, he would never hear the end of it. 

More disturbingly, Jin Zixuan would encourage him to follow his feelings which would end in disaster for everyone, if last time was any indication.

Deep breaths. 

He suddenly remembered he was here for a trim and gripped the leather arms of the chair tightly. This stylist should be as gentle and open minded as his brother suggested or he would simply walk out of this chair and into the sea where he could grow his hair as long as he liked.

The man parked himself behind Lan Zhan and finger combed the wisps at his crown which nearly caused him to fall out of the chair in shock. Rationally he knew someone had to touch him for a haircut but the reality required adjustment.

“Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself and I’m already up in your hair. I’m Wei Wuxian. Your hair is beautiful by the way.” Wei Wuxian stood behind the retro pump chair and looked at Lan Zhan in the mirror with all the grace and genuine feeling that he was unprepared for at 7PM on a Thursday. It was impossible to miss anything in eyes that big.

The opening bridge to “Road to Grandma’s House” started up like a forgotten music box and the lump in his throat was sudden and frightening.

“You may call me Lan,” his brain didn’t stop to consider the implications, “Zhan.”

Wei Wuxian fiddled with some instruments on a tray and he couldn’t help but notice how straight his nose was. He stared at the shining crown of Wei Wuxian’s part and managed not to flinch when Wei Wuxian made sudden eye contact in the gentle light of the mirror. Lan Zhan didn’t quite understand why he was staring at the dark shine of his eyes. Maybe willing him to understand. To know what this meant. To—

“So your appointment reservation mentioned a trim? Let’s talk about what a trim means to you. I want you to be happy when you walk out of here, regardless of what I or others say looks good on you.” Wei Wuxian said gently. 

Lan Zhan’s rabbits would like him.

He let out a breath of silent relief.

“Yes, just a trim. My brother usually does it for me but I estimate he cuts 1.5 centimeters. Research tells me this is enough to remove dead ends while retaining hair length.”

There was a puff of air on his neck but when he looked at Wei Wuxian in the mirror his face was simply professional.

“Hey, don’t give me that look,” Lan Zhan started in surprise, “I appreciate your dedication to research. We’ll stick to a basic trim.”

“I am a professor, after all.”

“Wow, Lan Zhan! That’s amazing! I would’ve liked academia but well, too many interests!” He said brightly, suddenly brandishing comically oversized steel scissors. Surely that wasn’t for hair, unless there was a stable out back he had completely overlooked.

“Ah these?” Wei Wuxian said with a particular slant that made Lan Zhan suddenly want to see Wei Wuxian be very, very mean.

“These are just for a project, I would never take shears to your hair! Okay, let’s get these robes on and get your hair washed.”

“Washed?”

“Typically for straight hair, we do a wet cut to get the straightest line. And I have a feeling you like symmetry. We—I don’t have to do that of course, if you’re uncomfortable.”

Lan Zhan debated with himself for a moment. Wei Wuxian’s hands where they curled gracefully over the top of his chair were small with long, delicate fingers. Smaller than his, they reminded him a bit of his mother’s hands. What it would be like to have her brushing his hair and humming softly again?

“No, that is fine. Please proceed as normal.”

Wei Wuxian had him get up and gestured to a washing station where Lan Zhan sat as comfortably as he could. This was a haircut, the first by a stranger. He was capable. He could withstand this.

He lay back and felt his neck bend at the wrong angle across the depthless black sink. Wei Wuxian was above him, looking down, impossibly gentle in the low light.

Wei Wuxian turned on the tap, placed a warm cloth over his eyes, then put his fingers in Lan Zhan’s hair and Lan Zhan knew that he was not, in fact, capable.

The deep shiver started at this scalp and worked all the way down to his toes. It was somehow both intensely sensual and not and he felt that the entire covering of his body was on pins and needles.

It was, in a word, incredible. And frightening. He had never been more in danger of an embarrassing and accidental reaction since he was thirteen.

Jin Zixuan could truly never find this out or it would haunt him for eternity.

“Is the temperature alright?”

“Mm,” was all he replied. Lan Zhan did not trust his voice though he desperately wished for a distraction.

Luckily, Wei Wuxian was willing to provide.

“So Lan Zhan. My brilliant godson wants to get into academia one day. I don’t know you very well, or at all I guess, but I think you two would actually get along. He’s very dedicated to his studies. But he’s got a little fire just like his old man! We’re so proud of him. So if you could give him any advice, what would you recommend?”

Wei Wuxian’s cheerful voice had dropped his body into subatomic levels; he felt like he was floating at the bottom of a well. 

“Hm. I do not know his age but once he reaches university he should aim to break into research and become published. I would also recommend that he become involved in the graduate program in addition to reaching out to the higher level professors as early as possible.” His voice came out much deeper and slower than intended.

“Oh that is excellent advice! He’s already at university now but I’ll make sure to pass it along. More perspective is always a good thing!”

“Mm,” Lan Zhan agreed, succumbing to the surrounding oasis of Wei Wuxian’s finger and voice. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this warm, this enveloped. The moment the water spray stopped was several hours too soon.

He stood up, strangely woozy, and Wei Wuxian guided him back to the chair.

To have the full attention of someone like this, and not because they viewed him as excessively strange in that moment like a specimen in a cage, or excessively frustrating like Uncle did when as a child he wiped his face clean of emotion during lectures about poor performance.

This was something else altogether. He should feel like a bug under a magnifying class but instead he felt intensely cared for; he felt shivery with the laser focus of someone who simply wanted to help him. The quietly sharp snick-snick of the scissors lulled him into another plane of existence.

“Lan Zhan, your hair really is beautiful. I can tell you take care of it. Most men with hair this length don’t know about upkeep and I have to give them a lecture. You know, if you ever need your hair braided or pinned, I would love to make some beautiful styles for you. There’s so much to work with and really anything would go with your face.”

Lan Zhan felt himself preen.

He was nearly at the point of closing his eyes and having a full sensory experience when suddenly the tugging at his hair stopped altogether.

“Alright!” Wei Wuxian clapped, scissors dangling dangerously from his pinky, “I can’t say that was exactly 1.5 centimeters but we did take off all the dead ends.” 

He handed him a small mirror to check and the brush of fingertips felt especially electric.

Lan Zhan felt disappointed it had ended so soon and wondered if he could ask to redo the process just to feel those fingers in his hair again.

But then he contemplated how devastating disappointment would look on Wei Ying’s open face and he contained himself.

Lan Zhan simply grunted his approval instead.

“Okay, dealer’s choice: we can let you go now and air dry, or I can blow dry it for you.”

Lan Zhan didn’t need to deliberate for more opportunities.

“I have a meeting so the blow dry would be ideal.” He did have a meeting… next Monday. 

The blow dry was somehow… more. There were fingers parting and brushing and parting and brushing and the tingles traveled from his head to his toes.

Then there was a sudden yank and his eyes flew open. When had he closed them? A hot shiver ran down his spine. 

Wei Wuxian glanced briefly at him with huge bottomless eyes and a worried crease between his eyebrows. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry Lan Wangji, forgive me.” 

He realized, likely too late, that he had been staring. Regrettably, or thankfully, misinterpreted. 

He simply grunted his forgiveness, though it was certainly not required. In fact, he was quite sure if he muttered, “thank you”, the tenor of his voice would give away his distasteful thoughts.

Lan Zhan watched him work in the mirror. The determined but relaxed set of his face, his sure fingers patting Lan Zhan’s hair back into place, his cute hands coming close to his throat to undo the bib, his cute hands on Lan Zhan’s neck, his face, his—

He suddenly felt cold.

“Okay, all done!” Wei Wuxian whipped off the bib then regrettably stepped back and clapped once.

What if he simply… refused to get out of this chair?

No, the man needed to be paid for this spectacular service.

Lan Zhan got up stiffly and followed Wei Wuxian to the register.

“All right, you’re all set.”

Lan Zhan wished he knew what to say. 

He looked at Wei Wuxian’s eyes crinkled in a smile and said, with all the feeling he hoped he could convey, “thank you”.

Wei Wuxian smiled easily at him and Lan Zhan felt the sun in his belly.

“It was nice meeting you, Lan Zhan,” he said in a way that felt particularly intimate in the empty salon, the last rays of sunset glinting off the warm black of his hair. Lan Zhan was a sunflower, helpless.

“You as well. Have a good night.” Lan Zhan managed to tear himself away but not without withering slightly. He hoped Wei Wuxian watched him leave, he hoped Wei Wuxian might even miss him. 

The ride home was short.

-

His fingers hovered for a moment over the reservation button, but hadn’t his brother essentially told him that he was to find his own stylist from now on? No one would be washing his hair anytime soon and remembering the feeling of gentle scratching at his nape, it was easy to hit “confirm”.

-

"Lan Zhan! Hi! Back so soon! Was something wrong with the last cut?"

Wei Wuxian looked at him in concern. Cute.

Today he was wearing a fitted black turtleneck and fitted black jeans and there was so much of him that Lan Zhan thought he simply might die.

"No. I decided that I think perhaps a shorter cut would suit me more.”

His concern changed to curiosity.

"Alright then," he concluded, apparently saving his probing for later. "Let's get you set up. Take a seat."

Wei Wuxian clapped a hand on each shoulder and he felt firmly weighted to the earth.

"Let's talk about what you want."

Lan Zhan gulped. Certainly he could not have already guessed, certainly he was not this transparent.

"How short are we talking?"

Right, of course. Lan Zhan's depraved fantasies of holding his hand were still kept close to his chest, where they should be.

Wei Wuxian pet his fingers through Lan Zhan's long hair and if he were a cat he would be purring. 

He at least vowed not to close his eyes at this juncture, it was too early to be lulled into feeling. He forced himself to look at Wei Wuxian, though it was not a chore to spend an extra moment studying the kind, open features of his face, the gentle round set of his eyes.

He was impossibly beautiful and Lan Zhan had him all to himself. Well, under this pretense. If this were his only chance to spend with in the comfort of Wei Wuxian's aura, he would gladly cut off his hair bit by bit until he was bald.

Wei Wuxian drummed his fingers along Lan Zhan's shoulder in a way both familiar and sweet.

Ah, right.

"I think perhaps, another thumb length? The weather seems to have turned lately."

It was autumn. Wei Wuxian did not call him on his ridiculous lie.

"Not a problem! I'm guessing you'll want the full service?"

He really wished Wei Wuxian would stop being... everything. This was testing his boundaries.

He nodded and was led to the dark cave of turtle shell sinks.

As before, Wei Wuxian pushed him gently into a chair, did he push last time?, Lan Zhan was experiencing a Feeling.

Risking neck injury against the sink edge was a trade worth making in his tingle-fueled brain as soon as those fingers were finally, agonizingly, back in his hair. They lulled him into a sense of security he had experienced rarely elsewhere.

"I'm curious. What is the name of your style?" He asked, knowing already as he had researched in an obsession-driven late night Baidu tab.

"Oh this?" Wei Wuxian mused, fingers still firmly massaging his scalp. "This is an undercut. I was going to cut the top short but my friend was doing a shoot and had a whole image. Plus I look great with long hair, they say. You should've seen me, all done up and in hanfu! I looked pretty fabulous."

Lan Zhan could imagine, was imagining, would be imagining later tonight.

"I am sure Wei Wuxian did."

"Ah! I appreciate that coming from you. It's basically a fact if it's coming from a professor." 

"I am a mathematics professor," he contested.  

"Lan Zhan, are you teasing me? Do people know you tease?"

There was a small gasp and the fingers stopped.

"Lan Zhan! Did you just smile? How cruel!" 

Wei Wuxian hummed a song to himself and a few moments later he realized he had fallen asleep. Wei Wuxian was removing the eye covering and wrapping a towel around his hair.

"This shop is my baby. After… well, after everything I'm just happy to make people happy. Help my godson, talk to my nephew about boys or girls, work on side projects."

"That sounds like a very good life."

“I'm certainly surprised I was allowed to have this much. Anyway, what's your baby? Unless you have a literal baby? Oh my god, please tell me you don't. I mean of course you can, I just would be surprised is all. No wife mentions or anything.” He laughed awkwardly.

“I do not have a wife or a baby although I have two rabbits.”

Wei Wuxian squealed at a frequency not meant for human ears.

“They are quite cute.”

“You have to show me pictures after this. What about metaphorical babies? Any cool projects coming up? I’m sure a professor like you has a lot to be proud of.”

“If I can be honest with you, I am most proud of living honestly.”

"Oh?"

"I come from a... traditional family. There were expectations, appearances to be maintained. Until I told my uncle explicitly that I would not be living by his standards."

Wei Wuxian started separating and cutting sections of his hair, the little snip of the scissors a soothing background noise. 

"And what about your parents? What did they have to say?"

"Both my parents passed away when I was young."

"Oh I'm sorry. Me too."

They shared a beat of silence, Wei Wuxian focusing on his hair, Lan Zhan watching his skilled and steady hands in the mirror.

"I'm sure my father would be angry but my mother would be proud. The irony is that my brother is also gay, so I suppose if Uncle wants grandchildren biologically he'll need to do so himself."

There was a small intake of breath and then a high-pitched giggle. Wei Wuxian appeared to have choked on something.

"Everything is a-okay. I— I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at your trauma. Really. I'm just. Surprised."

"Please don't tell me it's because you can't imagine me as anything other than a raging Casanova."

"With your... all of this, I certainly can! I'm sure the ladies are falling all over you. Or, uh, until they know you're not about that. I would if I were them."

A horrible flash of hot disappointment shot down his spine. He knew his chances with Wei Wuxian, his incomparable beauty, social charm, were slim but now it appeared those chances had vanished completely.

"Uh, anyway, my adoptive parents don't care. About my bisexuality I mean. They're more disappointed I'm not torturing people in academia."

He had something to say about this but it was suddenly stopped by his lizard brain spiraling at the word "bi".

"My brother seems to care. He mostly likes to give me shit about liking men and women and somehow still being single."

He sagged with relief then felt his spine stiffen with the nervousness of sudden possibility.

"Like your brother I am also confused." Who would not want to date Wei Wuxian? Who could look at his smile and deny him? Who could look upon him and not be moved to unwholesome fantasy?

"I know, who wouldn't want to date a hot dropout?"

That is certainly not what he meant, but before he could form a response, Wei Wuxian had a blow dryer in his hair. He heard soft humming and Wei Wuxian seemed happily in his element.

It was over too soon and suddenly he found himself paying and nodding goodbye, everything he wanted to say left somewhere in the warm shadows of the salon.

-

There was more to be said, more to know.

He had reached zenith, had reached mania— the chemical reaction his brain received upon pressing the reservation unleashed a feeling within him that, embarrassingly, brought to mind that shine Nie Huaisang got in his eyes when he found a particularly homoerotic painted silk fan replica while browsing independent dealers on Taobao. That imagery was not enough to stop him. 

He hit “send”.

-

His timing was impeccable. Though it was Thursday, the shop was not empty.  

Wen Chao, it appeared, was here to ruin the day.

“Don’t forget who owns this building,” he snarled.  

Wei Wuxian simply looked tired, and noticing Lan Zhan slip in, motioned him towards the waiting couch. Lan Zhan had the immediate urge to hold his hand and stand as one in front of danger.

“I didn’t hire her because she has no training, no experience, and frankly no business being around people with sharp objects.” Wei Wuxian replied with less venom than Lan Zhan thought Wen Chao deserved.

Wen Chao spluttered and turned red. 

“You think my Lingjiao is incapable?”

“You misunderstood. Not only is she incapable, she’s also in danger the first time she tries to insult anyone in this shop while they have sharp objects in reach.”

Wei Wuxian said it with this sudden mean glint in his eye and, oh.

Lan Zhan was just like his father after all and had never understood better until this moment. The rage center in his brain was now shooting off warning bells of arousal.

Accept what you cannot change.

Wen Chao stepped forward as if to swing at Wei Wuxian and, not in Lan Zhan's presence.

Lan Zhan stood to his full height and said, “if you do not remove yourself from the premises, I will.”

Wen Chao jumped like a scared cat then attempted to play it off and scoffed. "Professor Lan, why am I not surprised to find you in a dump like this? And like you can do anything without the college dropping an axe on you."

"This is not school premises. You are threatening my friend." He stepped closer to look down into his beady, little eyes.

Lan Zhan had been drilled to be a pacifist and yet instead of rage dissipating, it always froze into a lingering cold fury that lasted a lifetime. It’s why he had never forgiven his uncle.

Nie Huaisang just said he was a sadist, though no one else in the department seemed to believe him. 

Nie Huaisang was right, of course.

"Please do not forget what happened the last time someone threatened a person in my care." He said lowly into the charged air between them.

Wen Chao went white as a sheet. 

“Just, fuck you guys! Whatever. This isn't over, Wei Wuxian!” He turned tail and ran, like the rat he was.

“Don't make me make him kick you down these stairs!” Wei Wuxian shouted for good measure at his retreating back.

The shop door slammed shut.

“Wow, Lan Zhan, I’d say I’m sorry you had to see that but I’m not.” Wei Wuxian whistled, energy seemingly regained. "And somehow you're still scary with a bunny print shirt." 

Lan Zhan blinked at him. The dress shirt had been a thoughtful gift from his TAs and to all their surprise he had been taken with the button up, the micro rabbit pattern scarcely noticeable unless close.

"Ahhhh, Lan Zhan how are you so cute!"

He felt inordinately pleased. Bunnies were always the right decision.

“Seriously what is wrong with that guy? Did he eat too many bitter pears as a kid or something?” Wei Wuxian propped a hand on his hip in a way so effortlessly casual Lan Zhan would be jealous if he were not aroused.

“The better question is, why is Wen Chao.”

Wei Wuxian looked at him for a moment with an unfathomable expression then broke into a giggle.

“Why, indeed. Well, haircut and a show! Let's get you started. You know the routine," he said, not unkindly.

Lan Zhan let himself be led to the hair-washing station. He wouldn't have minded if Wei Wuxian had taken him by the hand like a child.

He situated himself and settled in. As usual, Wei Wuxian draped a warm cloth over his eyes and got to washing his hair. It was an easy indulgence.

Wei Wuxian's voice came softly from above him.

“Lan Zhan, I just want you to know that you don’t need to be embarrassed. Anytime you want this just stop on by, okay? And if you want to talk about— anything, I don’t mind. I’ve got plenty of time and lots of hot water.”

Everyone needs differently, Mian Mian had told him once.

He couldn’t bear to open his eyes to the sudden whiplash and instead reclined silently with his hands clenched in his lap, pretending that the plastic lip of the sink wasn’t bending his neck in half.

“You can call me Wei Ying.” He added, hands scratching gently at his scalp.

“Wei Ying,” he tested and the hands paused briefly, “Wei Ying, it goes something like this.”

-

The train car was empty save for a trio of high schoolers and a business man asleep at an impossible angle.

He looked at his deeply shadowed face in the subway window and didn't see any changes, even after twisting a little right and left.

And yet he felt lighter, freer. He had told Wei Wu— Wei Ying, what a joy to say; he had told Wei Ying about his mother. Wei Ying, it turned out, also had memories of his own long since gone. Lan Zhan told him about his brother, Wei Ying doted on his apparently whip-smart godson.

If they had been slightly red eyed but smiling at the end of the night, neither had mentioned it. Wei Ying had blotted at his eyes with a billowing silk black sleeve, somehow too long for his rather long frame, the little sweater paw squeezing Lan Zhan's heart. What would he look like in Lan Zhan's clothes?

With a shock, he noticed his reflection was smiling.

-

Lan Zhan was still floating on a cloud from the irresponsibility of his internet choices, until he heard a commotion in the TA's lab.

"FINE! I’LL JUST GO LIVE IN THE WOODS WITH THE PHYSICS STUDENTS!” He heard Lan Jingyi screech and immediately felt a tension migraine form somewhere between his eyebrows. 

Lan Jingyi was prone to emotive outbursts but not without reason. He would never admit it to him, but he quite enjoyed the near amorous passion with which Lan Jingyi regarded their subject.

“Lan Jingyi, what seems to be the problem?” He asked. Lan Jingyi stood panting and red faced while Ouyang Zizhen stood at a loss.

Ouyang Zizhen was somehow not his student but he often wondered, given the frequency with which Lan Zhan found him in the lab with the other graduate mathematics students.

"Professor Lan! The research money that was supposed to support us is going to Nie Mingjue's team for his stupid atom collider or whatever. One of the interns just told me!"

This was certainly news to him.

"I will look into this,” he told them. Ouyang Zizhen nodded in sympathy.

If his brother had at all been swayed by personal involvement— he felt the tension headache triple.

He needed a stress reliever, he needed—

His feet were already carrying him to Wei Wuxian.  

-

“Oh! Lan Zhan! I’m sorry, did we have an appointment today?” He asked with big eyes, “doe eyes” his mind unhelpfully supplied in Nie Huaisang’s voice. His taste in handmade art was impeccable, but his recent fascination with undergrad poetry slams was mildly abhorrent. Although he did quite like the retelling of Emperor Ai.

“This is my nephew, by the way. Jin Ling, introduce yourself to my best customer.”

“Are you serious? This is the guy you’ve been waxing poetic over to Uncle J? You disappoint me.” The nasally judgement came from an angry boy with a face made for scowling. 

“Ah ha ha, kids these days, am I right? You’re so funny with your memes!” The boy seemed indignant that his memes were not being given the consideration they were due but was effectively silenced by Wei Ying after receiving a stack of towels to the face.

“Lan Zhan, go ahead and set yourself up in that corner. I’ll be over in a second. Please ignore my nephew.”

“So anyway, as I was saying, Lan Sizhui was like doing that self-righteous straw man thing he does when he thinks upper grad students have committed some grave ethics error—”

"Are you referring to Lan Sizhui?" Lan Zhan couldn’t help but interrupt after setting his bag down on the fainting couch.

If his hair were the length of Lan Zhan's, he imagined the boy, Jin Ling, doing a derisive flip over his shoulder.

Wei Ying turned to him with bright bottomless eyes and asked over nephew's sudden sputtering at being talked over by adults, "you know A-yuan? How is he?"

"He is a devoted and principled scholar with clever ideas. He is far more patient than me and thus an invaluable TA."

Wei Ying's high top chair screeched in discomfort as he leaned forward with more excitement than necessitated by the topic at hand.

"So you are Professor Lani," he said gleefully. Lan Zhan was missing something.

"Yes." Was it not obvious? 

A rather uncalled-for burst of disgusted shock flashed over Jin Ling's face as he said, "oh my God, I have to tell the group chat about thippbbvl—" 

Wei Ying covered Jin Ling's face with his hand and didn't notice when Jin Ling swatted it away grumpily.

"I appear to be missing something."

"Ah, Lan Zhan, A-yuan is my godson."

"More like s—" beleaguered Jin Ling got another palmful to the face.

"He is my godson and we are very close. He told me about his mentor, I just didn't imagine…"

"What?" Lan Zhan asked. Did he appear unprofessional? Was his hair going to be his downfall just like his uncle said? His uncle claimed to hate it for its impropriety but they both knew he hated it because it was a memory to his mother, an honor to her legacy of classical collections, a small reflection of her young fading face if he looked at himself at the right angle in the secret moments before sun fully set…

"Oh, no, Lan Zhan b— Lan Zhan, I didn't mean it like that. He just talks about your experience and accomplishments so I had always imagined someone...older?"

"My uncle may fit the description, he has a very unfortunate goatee."

"A goatee— in this day and age? I know I'm supposed to be open to all hair choices as a stylist but just. No. Then again, if he looks anything like you he could probably pull it off. I imagine you'd look good in any style."

The shop door slammed shut.

"Huh, I guess A-ling left." Wei Ying said to himself.

Lan Zhan was still processing the tornado of compliments.   

“So, what can I do you for?”

He had a sudden and stupid realization that he could’ve simply messaged Wei Ying through the website.

“I. Actually I... wanted to know the name of the hair serum you used last time. It smelled…nice.”

Words were coming worryingly strenuously. Was he having a stroke? He should review the family medical history when he returned home.

“Oh sure! Not a problem. Just take a seat and I’ll grab it. You probably had trouble finding it online since it’s a salon brand.”

He had not looked online and the lie of omission only twinged him with guilt a tiny bit.

“If you like, I can open this new bottle and put a bit in your hair and then you can take the rest with you. Like a salon to go!”

Lan Zhan wanted to know when he had become so transparent. Although, he was certainly not going to complain.

It was a routine by now. He could not help but close his eyes and lean his head back while Wei Ying combed fingers through his hair.

He hadn’t realized that the brushing had stopped until he opened his eyes to find his head completely reclined over the back of the chair and staring into Wei Ying’s dark eyes. He couldn’t breathe lest it ruined the moment.

He wanted.

There was a long beat then Wei Ying’s mouth was on his. Firm, warm, sensual in this position.

He was breathless, anchorless, until he suddenly had a warm, heavy lapful. Wei Ying planted himself there like Lan Zhan was a seat made for him.

It was, it truly was.

Lan Zhan pressed his tongue into Wei Ying's mouth. He wanted to taste his teeth, his tongue, and if he could bear to draw himself away he would lay siege to the delicate spot under his ear, at the juncture of his shoulder. He hadn't gotten there yet, too involved in the wet press of their open mouths.

Wei Ying ground down and made the most perfect sound that Lan Zhan had to swallow down to keep always. His nerve endings from scalp to toes were singing and Lan Zhan's hands flew up automatically to grip Wei Ying’s ass. He clutched at the perfect handfuls and squeezed him closer—

“Ahhhhh my god!” Echoed an unholy screech in what had just been the delectable offering in the temple of Lan Zhan’s wholly visceral sex life.

Wei Ying jerked away and broke the silk thread between them, gasping.

Or maybe that was Lan Zhan.

They both realized his hands were still on Wei Ying’s perfect ass before he flew out of his lap like a startled cat.

“I can’t unsee this!” Jin Ling screamed, fists covering his eyes like a child.

Wei Ying wasn’t looking at him, instead biting his lip and wringing his hands.

He felt doused in ice water and stood up mechanically.

“I. Lan Zhan I’m so sorry. That was… that was so inappropriate.”

He felt sick but why was Wei Ying the one who looked close to tears?

“Wei Ying.”

Jin Ling looked back and forth between them, hands covering his mouth, and offered no support.

“You just wanted— god I’m so stupid. I’m so sorry.”

“Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying still wasn’t looking at him but his profile looked horribly broken.

Lab Zhan stood at a loss.

“Very well. I’ll take my leave.” Feeling that leaving was wrong but staying would only bring Wei Ying to actual tears, and not the kind he had been fantasizing of, he walked stiffly out of the salon and into the cold stairwell.

He made it home without seeing a single thing and then realized after everything he had forgotten to take the serum.

-

The week following the incident was... challenging.

In addition to the entire We Ying disaster, funds were being diverted to the physics department and he worried over how to argue in order to keep his students. It would require politicking which he loathed, and possibly groveling which he loathed even more. 

He made it through graduate level lectures and avoided a public breakup taking place by the student union. He only vacillated between increasingly violent fantasies involving Wei Ying and stomach-dropping worry that he hadn't heard from Wei Ying every few hours. He was not moping.

“What is up with you? Are your rabbits sick? You’re even blanker than normal.” Jin Zixuan said in his semblance of concern over lunch later that week.

“Not the rabbits!” Nie Huaisang gestured wildly with his chopsticks, forcing Jin Zixuan to wipe the reactionary black bean sauce splatter from the side of his face with distaste.

“The rabbits are fine. As am I.”

“Then can you lighten up on the dumplings? I think you’ve shredded them into particles small enough to view with the new microscope.” Jin Zixuan gestured to the carnage of his jiaozi.

That was simply to aid in digestion. He was fine.

"Don't listen to this guy. Shred all the dumplings you want. Hey, remember that time you found out the single mom you had been pining for was the same one night stand you couldn't forget and the kid was yours? Haha, what a disaster."

"And now we're engaged and have a beautiful family," Jin Zixuan snarled, attempting to rub noodles into Nie Huaisang's unrepentant face.

He enjoyed their distraction, but really, he was fine, which he had to tell them again after they brought him tea more than once from the new engineering building.

Routine saved him from the black hole of thought that was Wei Ying. He simply meditated on Gödel’s Incompleteness Theorem and finished lecture updates for the following week in peace. It wasn't until Lan Sizhui stopped by his office hours and noted with some concern, "is that… are you listening to the Ashes of Love OST?"

Jin Zixuan's own personal love tragedy was interfering with his meditative musical selections.

He did not slam his laptop closed but quietly lowered the screen and asked his TA for an update on the undergraduate courses.

Lan Sizhui did not appear to have come to play.

"Professor Lan, forgive my impertinence but you know my godfather Wei Wuxian?"

Lan Zhan felt all the blood fall into his toes. How much did he know? He remembered reading about qi deviation in cram school and surely this is how it started. He would hate to call his uncle to update his will because of this.

Lan Sizhui, the perceptive and horribly capable boy that he was, continued on with no regard for Lan Zhan's fracturing insides.

"I'm not sure what happened but," Lan Zhan felt his body go limp with relief, "but I think communication is really important. My— Wei-zhangbei cares for you. He is upset because he thinks he violated your boundaries without your consent. If you can find it in your heart to forgive him, please do.”

Lan Sizhui focused in on him with eyes far too sharp and added, “but if it was consensual, and you want to continue, you need to let him know. In the clearest terms."

Lan Sizhui was still giving him a look at once too old and too earnest to lecture when suddenly two more bodies fell through the office door he was quite sure had been closed.

“Oh my god, Professor Lan, you are totally horny for danger! It all makes sense! The haircuts, the random smiling, the emo boyfriend. God, I knew it! Wait until I tell our groupchat, oh my god Xiao-gege totally has to pay up.” A-Qing said with a force that had him reconsidering the true power of freshmen.

He pinched his nose.

"I'm assuming this has been discussed at length among the TAs." He said, fighting off a migraine.

Ignoring him, Lan Jingyi added “Professor, I don’t want to be out of line but you should totally ask him out.” 

Why on earth did he choose these students? They certainly had grown more comfortable over the last year. He almost missed the early days when they were nervous and quiet. No such luck now, it appeared. Not even his rabbits took his lectures seriously anymore.

“That is out of line.” He directed at them sternly to watch their faces fall but amended, “And I will.”

A-Qing’s face shot up in joy and Lan Jingyi made a sound so new to this human realm that several startled pigeons leapt from the brick windowsill. Worst of all, Lan Sizhui simply looked knowing.

He took his leave from the entire situation that was his TA group but not before he caught the beginning of what would surely be gossip fodder for the semester.

“I always wanted two dads!“ 

“You have a family, Jingyi...” Lan Sizhui sighed tiredly. 

Lan Zhan let the heavy door swing shut.

-

Every meter closer to the salon he felt his heartbeat increase pace. The last ten steps up the staircase to the shop felt as if he had been climbing at a ten thousand foot altitude instead of thousand.

The door felt huge and unyielding, much more than any time before.

He remembered Lan Sizhui’s words and then maddeningly Nie Huaisang’s viral encouragement that implored him to hit on his barber for “the girls and the gays”.

So be it.

He pushed it open to find Wei Ying slumped over the counter with dark circles, strings dangling sadly from a hoodie uncharacteristic of his usual sleek style. Wei Ying looked up and nearly slid off his chair in surprise.

“Lan Zhan!”

“Hello, Wei Ying.”

“Lan Zhan, I wanted to apologize again. I’m so, so sorry.” He stood wringing his hands.

“I hope you are not.”

“Wh… what?” Wei Ying looked especially willowy and delicate, his collarbones nearly distracting Lan Zhan from his next words.

“Wei Ying. I would like to take you out. You have treated me so kindly and I enjoy your company. Getting to know you outside of this working relationship would be a joy.”

“Lan Zhan...”

“A friend sent me a very convincing video that told me I should do so for ‘the girls and the gays’.”

“Lan Zhan, are you serious?”

“I do know what Tik Tok is, yes.”

He heard a clatter.

“Lan Zhan, what?”

He simply looked at Wei Ying’s beautiful, confused face and waited. He was looking forward to telling him this once, many times, every day, if only Wei Ying would say yes.

“You are under no obligation of course, I do not wish to make you uncomfortable.”

“Lan Zhan! Are you crazy? How could I not want to go out with you? I'd be insane! Listen to yourself!" He shouted in defense of Lan Zhan's character, waving his hands wildly in Lan Zhan's general vicinity.

"Is that a yes?"

"is that a— you! Yes, that's a yes."

"Excellent. I suppose now I should actually ask for your phone number. It may be awkward arranging our date this weekend if I have to call the salon."

"My— oh my god. Here, take it." Wei Ying laughed helplessly and nearly threw Lan Zhan's phone onto the couch after stabbing his number in. "Come here, let me just kiss you a little bit."

He hugged Wei Ying around his tiny waist. Wei Ying's hands rested gently on either side of his face and pulled him in for a warm, sweet kiss. It felt like coming home. 

"Oh my god— not again!" came a strangled voice. Jin Ling.

Wei Ying pulled away just a bit to smile in his face, arms thrown casually possessive over his shoulders.

"All right, I do have a customer coming in. You're not my only one, you know."

"We can talk about that later."

"Oh my god, fucking STOP I'M STILL RIGHT HERE!" Jin Ling squawked, attempting to hide behind a stack of towels, his usual M.O.

Wei Ying laughed helplessly and laid his head against Lan Zhan's shoulder for a moment. He finally pulled away but Wei YIng caught his hand and pulled him in for one small but searing peck. A smile, a promise.

"I will call you," he said before heading to the door. Wei Ying's face cracked open and his eyes crinkled and Lan Zhan knew he would do any manner of crimes to see that expression every day.

He pulled the door closed, and cut off Jin Ling's groaning.

Epilogue

A Bunsen burner gone awry, an accident likely orchestrated by one of his many enemies in the chemistry department after he managed to divert their retreat funds for his graduate students, or the secretary who loathed Lan Jingyi filching Bunsen burners for his own personal hotpot use, left him with the question of salvaging what remained of his singed hair or trying something new.

Having cut his hair so many times in the previous months, the prospect was far less daunting this time around. 

It was certainly worth it for the loaded stare Wei Ying had given him after styling. The salon chair wasn't destroyed but it was a near thing.

A second styling was required, however.

The world was born anew. And his neck was certainly colder.

If Lan Zhan cared at all about the opinion of his peers, which he did not, he may have been pleasantly confused by the sudden onslaught of attention. 

A perpetually scowling man whom he saw only saw on occasion at the side of Nie Huaisang and had a single volume shouted, "oh, come on!"

The decibel level did not make the meaning anymore clear. 

"Are you seeing this guy?" The walking frown shouted more.

"I am," Nie Huaisang said with that glint he was about to ask the college to fund more nude models.  

"Why is it always the nerds? APK knows how to get ripped! We can run circles around you guys!" 

"I don't think Professor Lan needs any personal training," Nie Huaisang smirked with an unprofessional level of leery glee.

"It is inappropriate and an ethics violation to sexually objectify coworkers," Lan Zhan noted loftily.

Nie Huaisang just waved a hand while his acquaintance, unused to the levels of incest within the Liberal Arts College, groaned loudly.  

His students proved to be worse.

"Oh my God.  How did you get hotter?" A-Qing squealed inappropriately.

Lan Jingyi pouted and added, "How am I supposed to get any attention in discussion now?"

Absurd.

"Your aim as a TA is to support and encourage our young students, not objectify them." 

"I was objectifying myself!  Why can't I be hot?" The others ignored his scowl in a way that suggested this was a frequent argument. A-Qing patted his arm patronizingly. 

A quieter research student Song Lan nodded in approval which was incredibly emotive for him.

“Oh my god, are you smiling?” Lan Jingyi screeched.

In a grace of which Lan Zhan was proud, Lan Sizhui simply blinked and turned to him with the earnest expression that reminded him why he became a professor at all instead of disappearing completely into the research staff.

"Professor, can we talk about the proofs for tomorrow? I have some ideas for examples.”

“Very well.”

“Also, your boyfriend’s birthday is coming up soon and I know just what he’s been telling me about these days, if you’re interested to know.”

Lan Zhan did not sigh. If this was his life, then so be it. If this was his family, well, he was grateful. And happy. 

His hair was a small price to pay.