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Lan Zhan is sitting on the couch with his boyfriend when the package arrives.
“I’ll get it,” Wei Ying says, as soon as the doorbell rings.
He’s got his feet propped up in Lan Zhan’s lap, and Lan Zhan almost tells him that they can get it later, because he’s feeling very warm and comfortable right now, and he doesn’t want Wei Ying to move. Wei Ying has been sitting here so long Lan Zhan has memorized every inch of his Pokémon socks.
But Wei Ying is already moving, closing his laptop and swinging his legs off of Lan Zhan’s lap. He stretches briefly and then pads his way over to the door, skirting around the kitchen island. By the time he opens the door, the delivery person is gone, and only a yellow package is left on the welcome mat.
Wei Ying picks it up and examines it as he carries it back to the couch. “It says it’s from ‘The Lan Family,’” Wei Ying reports, puzzled. He hands the package to Lan Zhan and flops back into his spot, happily shoving his feet into Lan Zhan’s lap.
The package is quite unusual. It’s standard letter-paper-size, padded and with a one-inch flap around the perimeter. The sticker on the front does in fact say The Lan Family, and underneath the address is labelled as The Cloud Recesses, which is the name of the Taoist retreat that his family owns. Lan Zhan can’t imagine why he’s getting a package labelled like this, but he tears it open anyway.
Inside are a couple of letters and documents that Lan Zhan shakes out onto his lap. Wei Ying forgeos opening his laptop again to fish a letter out of the pile and open it.
“Are you expecting a delivery?” Wei Ying asks curiously.
Lan Zhan shakes his head mutely, opening a letter himself. It’s from the bank that his uncle uses. His credit card is registered there, but Lan Zhan mainly uses it to spoil his boyfriend. He doesn’t think he’s run into any monetary troubles there.
“What’s this?” Wei Ying asks, even more puzzled, distracting Lan Zhan from looking at the letter in his hands. “Is this some joke?” He waves it in Lan Zhan’s face. “Your family didn’t seem like the joking type.”
Lan Zhan plucks it from his hands and reads it quickly. By the end, his face is white, and he tears through the rest of the letters, searching for some sign.
Bank statements, informing him that his credit card has been cancelled, that the account his uncle set up shortly after he was born to pay for college has been terminated. His cell phone plan, also cancelled; his apartment rent, unpaid; official documents telling him that his last year of college will go unpaid.
After tearing through this wealth of documents, Lan Zhan returns to the original letter, the one from ‘the Lan Family,’ and rereads the two paragraphs cordially telling him that the Lan family wishes for him to cease all communications with them.
It doesn’t make any sense.
“I don’t understand,” Wei Ying says, voicing his thoughts. “Is this someone’s idea of a prank?”
But who would prank Lan Zhan?
“Is this some troll?” Wei Ying continues. “Or a …prank, I don’t know, what is going on?”
Lan Zhan shakes his head silently again. There’s no one in his entire extended family who would pull this sort of feat as a joke.
Or at all.
“I will call my brother,” Lan Zhan decides, and reaches for his phone.
Or, well, text him, because his brother is busy right now. His brother is working in their father’s company, because unlike Lan Zhan he went into business like their uncle wanted so he can take over the company one day. Lan Zhan had been planning on going into business when he went to college, but then he met Wei Ying, and it didn’t take too long before he decided to pursue his real passion for music. And then a year later he started dating Wei Ying, which his family also wasn’t too happy about–
Lan Zhan overthinks it.
He’s a meticulous planner, but sometimes that means if he has to make a decision and can’t simply schedule a block of time in, he talks himself into doing nothing at all.
Lan Zhan pulls out his phone and opens his conversation with his brother and remembers once crucial fact: Lan Huan hasn’t texted him. Ever since his brother left for college he’s texted him good morning every morning, and Lan Zhan texts him good morning back. Wei Ying has informed him that it’s weird, but it’s just how they are. But this morning Lan Huan didn’t text him at all. Lan Zhan was going to call him and see if he was okay, but then he was busy, and then he was distracted with Wei Ying, and now he’s sitting on the edge of the sofa, thumbs hovering over his screen.
“Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying asks hesitantly. When Lan Zhan doesn’t respond, Wei Ying shoves the papers aside and scoots closer to him on the couch. “It is a joke, right? Right? Are you overthinking again?”
He wants to say yes, but he can’t when the answer could be no.
“It can’t be real,” Wei Ying continues, exasperated. “There must be some mistake. That,” he says, gesturing at the pile, “doesn’t just happen. Not to you,” he adds, and Lan Zhan knows he’s thinking of his adoptive parents. “Is this real? Is this legit? No way. Aren’t you going to text your brother? Call your brother? Lan Zhan? Lan Zhan, talk to me.”
Lan Zhan drags his eyes away from his phone screen so he can see Wei Ying’s concerned face.
“Is this about your music?” Wei Ying says, slowly moving into anger, when Lan Zhan fails to respond. “Because you’re a music major? That’s–they can’t do that. There’s gotta be…warning, at least. Lan Zhan?”
Lan Zhan tries very hard to squeeze coherent thoughts into his brain. His gaze has slowly traveled back to his phone screen, and the little text bar. And all he can think of is how on Earth he plans on explaining this to his brother.
Wei Ying’s fingers cautiously curl around his, and Lan Zhan looks up to see his boyfriend looked even more concerned than before.
“Is it because of me?” Wei Ying asks quietly.
No. No. Lan Zhan is not mentally prepared to deal with this right now. He did not sit down on the couch ready for a “my family or my boyfriend” debate, and he isn’t going to have one, and he can’t let Wei Ying just sit there looking so sad and guilty either–
“I will text him later,” Lan Zhan decides, putting his phone away and looking away from Wei Ying. “Once I have more information.”
He gathers the papers up in a neat pile, separating the ripped envelopes from the actual documents. Then he stands up and blindly heads toward the kitchen island. He needs a cup of tea.
“Okay,” Wei Ying relents, deciding not to push him on it. He rises from the couch as well and joins him.
And so the documents and the letters are left on the couch, out of sight, and carefully shoved out of mind for the rest of the night.
The credit card is cancelled. The bank account is closed.
Lan Zhan calls the bank the following morning and returns to Wei Ying with that information, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself anymore.
“Okay,” Wei Ying says, processing the information for him, “okay. You know what? Let’s. Let’s go do something fun today. Just you and me, eh, Lan Zhan? What do you say? Anything you want.”
I want an explanation, Lan Zhan thinks, furious along with a wealth of emotions he doesn’t know how to untangle. Confusion, first and foremost. No one gets a credit card and bank account cancelled as a joke. No one does it by accident. No one wakes up one morning and puts together that sort of package on a whim.
No one sends that information to their nephew, or brother, with no explanation at all.
Lan Zhan estimates one full day before Wei Ying starts encouraging him to reach out to his brother. And he knows he should. But just for this day, he’d like to spend a nice night out with his boyfriend and not worry about last night’s package. Surely that’s not too much to ask for.
Wei Ying must agree, or he’d already be bothering Lan Zhan about calling his brother. Wei Ying rarely shows restraint, but Wei Ying also knows Lan Zhan. He knows when to stop, when to give him space, when to back off and offer a distraction.
“Mm,” Lan Zhan agrees.
They end up going grocery shopping, because neither of them can think of anything better to do. Sort of nearby Lan Zhan’s apartment is one of those Asian supermarkets that both of them get hopelessly lost at because the most common languages are Korean and Cantonese, and then they spend another half hour trying to find something vegetarian for Lan Zhan. His family has a history of heart conditions, and they’ve been vegetarian for decades as a result.
Neither of them bring up the package, or the reasons behind it.
But Wei Ying doesn’t add twelve pounds of food to the cart before they leave, as he usually does. Long before they started dating, Lan Zhan would see him begging and pleading with his friends and siblings to buy something for him, so he knows that Wei Ying has always been shameless when it comes to receiving charity from his friends. Now he can almost see Wei Ying’s mind leaping ten steps ahead, already thinking of solutions to every potential problem before Lan Zhan can even notice them.
They end up waiting in the cashier line with barely any items. Lan Zhan is starting to think too much again when he feels Wei Ying slipping his hand into his and squeezing gently.
“Hey,” Wei Ying says, gently pulling him out of his own head, “it’s about time I started pulling my weight around here, right?”
Lan Zhan shakes his head. He knows Wei Ying is only joking, but he still doesn’t like to hear Wei Ying talk like that. But Wei Ying is already swiping his credit card. He’s on a tighter budget than Lan Zhan, because his parents constantly suspect him of misusing his funds while Lan Zhan’s uncle thinks that Lan Zhan has learned fiscal responsibility. Which he had, and then he met Wei Ying.
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Wei Ying says, noticing his distraught expression. “You know what I meant.”
This time, Lan Zhan doesn’t think he does, and he says as much. Or he shakes his head, which amounts to the same thing.
The corners of Wei Ying’s eyes, bright and silver and smiling, crinkle just a little. “Well, if you don’t know then I won’t worry you about it,” he deflects, which just makes Lan Zhan more worried about what Wei Ying isn’t telling him.
“Wei Ying,” he begins, but Wei Ying has other plans.
“Don’t worry about it,” Wei Ying says firmly. “This is your day off, remember? Tomorrow you can go back to worrying all you want. Hey,” he says, deflecting even further, “how about we go to Jiang Cheng’s place? Some friends are getting together there. It could be fun.”
And Lan Zhan, unable to refuse Wei Ying when he’s trying so hard to help, agrees.
By “some friends” Wei Ying of course meant his own friends, because neither Jiang Cheng or Lan Zhan have many friends. Which is to say, they both have exactly one–Nie Huaisang, and Luo Qingyang.
“What’s this about?” Mianmian corners Lan Zhan the moment that Wei Ying leaves his side to talk to Jiang Cheng in the living room. The Wen siblings are arguing about something with Nie Huaisang in the dining room, and Jiang Yanli has yet to arrive.
Lan Zhan is in the kitchen, trying to find the non-alcoholic drinks and absentmindedly composing melodies in his head. His strong emotions found themselves translated into songs even before he decided to pursue music, and right now he’s feeling–something. A whole lot of denial, if he’s being honest, even though the bank secretary told him that his credit card was no longer in use and his college savings bank account had been closed. He’s not particularly inclined to analyze the rest of it, so he ghosts into the kitchen, content to leave the social interaction to Wei Ying.
Until Mianmian cornered him.
“What is what about?” Lan Zhan asks.
“What the fuck are you talking about?!” Jiang Cheng shouts from the living room, and they all politely ignore him.
“This sudden gathering,” Mianmian says, gesturing at the rooms behind her with her plastic cup. “Wei Ying texted us all this morning? Said we had to be here this afternoon? He even volunteered Jiang Cheng’s place for him.”
Of course he did. Lan Zhan can feel his lips trying to curve up into a smile.
“Is he throwing a surprise party for you?” Mianmian asks suspiciously. “Is it your birthday or something?”
“No,” Lan Zhan replies.
“Suddenly you don’t want to be a research scientist, you want to be a company scientist?” Jiang Cheng continues shouting, but he’s piqued Lan Zhan’s interest. He disapproves of eavesdropping, but it’s not his fault that Jiang Cheng always yells loud enough to wake the dead, and Wei Ying speaks too quietly for Lan Zhan to hear.
“Then is it part of his ongoing quest to make you make more friends?” Mianmian, his one (1) friend asks cheerfully.
Lan Zhan flushes, struggling to keep two conversations at the same time. “Hm?”
“They didn’t adopt you so that you could–” Jiang Cheng, miraculously, quiets down.
“Did something happen?” Mianmian asks, worried. Clearly she’s also trying to follow the thread of whatever’s going on in the living room.
Lan Zhan has a pretty good guess as to what Wei Ying said that set his brother off. On a normal day, he would reassure Wei Ying that his adoptive parents won’t disown him just because he doesn’t want to work in Yunmeng Industries. He’s discussed it with them before, and they both seemed to think Wei Ying going into research biomed was a good choice. It’s the only part of Wei Ying that his uncle actually approves of.
So now Lan Zhan just doesn’t feel quite as qualified to comfort Wei Ying.
“Mm,” Lan Zhan says vaguely, and then, because it’s Mianmian and he trusts her; “may we speak of something else?”
She eyes him for a moment longer, but lets it go. “Sure,” she agrees. “Uh. So, my girlfriend owns a restaurant, and she could always use a pianist.”
Lan Zhan refrains from his initial urge to say no for a second. He’s aware intellectually that there’s many things he could be doing to make money. Working as an accompanist, playing at churches, teaching, finding gigs, performing at restaurants and schools as well as the concert stage. He plays five instruments; he’s sure he can make things work.
He’s just never had to before, and he was never particularly inclined to. He had a few internships in business and finance before he switched his major, but nothing in music. But if this is going to be his future now, then he’ll have to. He won’t let himself and Wei Ying rely solely on Wei Ying’s budget.
“Mn,” Lan Zhan says, and by the time he and Wei Ying leave, he’s got his first job.
When Wei Ying and Lan Zhan return to their apartment, all Lan Zhan does is sit on the couch staring at his phone. Wei Ying runs up and down the living room, trying to find way to make Lan Zhan more comfortable. He makes tea, he gets pillows and blankets, he brings out games and movies and everything else he can think of–even alcohol.
“I think,” Lan Zhan announces, “that I should call my brother.”
Almost instantly, Wei Ying is settled by his side on the couch, peering over his shoulder to see his phone screen. He doesn’t say anything like well of course, he’s your brother, he loves you or it’s about time, he just brings over the pillows and the blankets and wraps one arm around Lan Zhan’s shoulder.
“Okay,” Wei Ying says. “Do you know what you want to say?”
No. But Lan Zhan can begin planning, and scheduling, because that would at least make this twisted knot of anxiety in the bottom of his stomach a little looser. He pulls up their chat. The last message was from three days ago, when Lan Zhan responded to his brother’s customary good morning text. Lan Huan has been silent all of yesterday and all of today, and if Lan Zhan said he wasn’t overthinking it he’d be lying.
Still: planning. That’s something he can do.
Reluctantly, Lan Zhan’s thumbs start typing out a message, which he changes twice and then checks for spelling for no particular reason. “What about this?”
Wei Ying rests his chin on Lan Zhan’s shoulder. “Looks good,” he says. Lan Zhan isn’t entirely sure why he asked Wei Ying for advice, but his approval makes him just a little bit more secure.
He sends the text.
Lan Zhan: May we speak?
Immediately afterwards, Lan Zhan turns off his phone and pockets it. He’s reached out now. No one can say he didn’t try. And he knows his brother is busy at this time, so he doesn’t expect a response soon. If ever. He spreads his palms flat on his thighs, trying to stop the itch to go back and delete the text. He’s sent it. It’s too late.
“Why don’t we go watch a movie or something?” Wei Ying coaxes, tugging Lan Zhan’s hands away from his lap.
Lan Zhan opens his mouth to respond, and then his phone rings.
Wei Ying drops his hands, and Lan Zhan stiffens on his couch cushion. He hastily shoves his hand through layers of pillows and blankets to extract his phone from his pocket, and then his heart rate doubles when he sees the caller: Lan Huan (best big bro). The moniker was added by Wei Ying when Wei Ying went through his handful of contacts last year, and when Lan Huan saw it he laughed.
Lan Zhan, already panicking, hits decline before he can even start to think about it. He drops his phone on the pillows and leans back, breathing heavily.
“Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying asks tentatively.
“I need more time,” Lan Zhan forces out. “To think of what to say.”
“I getcha, I getcha,” Wei Ying reassures him. “But. Shouldn’t you at least agree when to talk?”
Lan Zhan knows he’s right, and reluctantly fishes his phone out of the pillows.
Lan Zhan: May we speak in person?
Almost instantly, he sees the three little dots pop up, which means Lan Huan didn’t just put his phone away after Lan Zhan declined his call.
Lan Huan (best big bro): Yes
Lan Huan (best big bro): May I drive down to your place tomorrow?
Tomorrow is so soon. But it seems his brother also wants to get this over with.
“I can see you overthinking it,” Wei Ying chides, elbowing him gently. “Maybe he just misses you.”
If he missed Lan Zhan he would’ve texted. It wouldn’t be up to Lan Zhan to reach out. Lan Huan knows him better than to wait for Lan Zhan to reach out.
Nevertheless, Lan Zhan forces himself to respond.
Lan Zhan: Kingsley Park at 2?
It’s the place they always go to when Lan Huan is in town. There’s a fountain and a giant chess board and benches where two people can sit down and talk without having to look at each other. And it’s far enough from the university that Lan Zhan knows he won’t run into anyone he knows there.
Lan Huan (best big bro): Yes
Lan Huan (best big bro): See you there
Lan Zhan turns off his phone for good this time and leans into Wei Ying. Tomorrow feels too soon to figure out what he wants to say. It took him a year to figure out what he wanted to say to Wei Ying.
“I’ll be nearby?” Wei Ying offers. “In case you want to leave?”
Lan Zhan nods at the wall and sinks further into Wei Ying’s shoulder. There’s not enough pillows and blankets in the city to keep him warm.
The park is windy when Lan Zhan arrives. It’s a little after 1:30, and the sun has disappeared behind clouds for long enough that he’s wearing a light sweater when he leaves the apartment.
“Call if you need anything,” Wei Ying says, uncharacteristically serious. “I’ll be there.”
And then it’s just Lan Zhan, alone, making his way through the winding path of the park, preparing to find a nice spot to wait for half an hour. The benches seem like a safe bet, so Lan Zhan heads over there, almost wishing he’d asked Wei Ying to stay with him. But he falters before he picks a bench, because his brother’s already there, waiting for him. He stands up when he sees Lan Zhan, who freezes right there in the middle of the path.
Lan Zhan isn’t the type to avoid confrontation, but he almost turns around and heads right back out of the park at that moment. He almost listens to the voice in his head, the one that whispers to run.
It is through some miracle that Lan Zhan makes his feet continue moving, carrying him as if in a trance over to the bench, where Lan Huan stands, wearing a similar sweater, looking exactly like he did the last time Lan Zhan saw him. Like nothing has changed.
And just like that, every speech or thought that Lan Zhan had flee his brain like startled rabbits. “Ge,” he blurts. “I don’t understand.”
Lan Zhan cannot count the number of times he’s considered changing his major in the past forty-eight hours. And to even think of breaking up with Wei Ying, who has done nothing but support him, who looked so guilty when he thought he might be the reason, who Lan Zhan loves more than he thought was possible–
“What do you mean?” Lan Huan asks.
“The letter,” Lan Zhan elaborates. “Why now?”
Lan Huan frowns. He looks exhausted. “Didi, you sent us the letter. What do you mean?”
“The letter you sent me,” Lan Zhan clarifies, though he doesn’t remember ever sending a letter to his family.
“What letter?” Lan Huan asks, baffled.
Lan Zhan reaches into the manila folder he brought with him, clinging onto the hope that his brother wasn’t a part of this, and pulls out the letter. “This letter,” he says, “from ‘the Lan family.’”
Lan Huan takes it and skims it. Then he reads it again. “This–I– no,” he splutters. The edges of the paper crease under his grip. “We never–Uncle and I have been worried sick over you,” he says. “You sent us a letter,” he insists. “I didn’t bring it with me, but–you said we’d never supported your career, that I’d been saying that Wei Ying was only dating you for money–which isn’t true!–that M–why are you shaking your head?”
“I never sent a letter,” Lan Zhan insists. “You said you didn’t want to speak to me again, so I didn’t.”
“You said you–!” But Lan Huan read the letter, and he stops when Lan Zhan starts pulling the other files out of his folder. “We never did this,” Lan Huan protests, looking at the details on the apartment and the college fund. “Didi, I’m sorry, we never did any of this.”
“I called the bank,” Lan Zhan says, quietly furious. “The card has been cancelled.”
“Yes, I know,” Lan Huan says absently. “I called, too–I thought that was you. Uncle said we should wait for you to explain.” He looks up from the papers, and their eyes meet. “But then…who was it?”
“Su She,” Wei Ying announces, as he plops down next to Lan Zhan. “Apparently he just got a job at the bank.”
“Who?” Both Lan brothers ask.
“You know,” Wei Ying says, looking between the two of them, “that guy who was stalking Lan Zhan all of last year?”
Lan Zhan blinks at him. “I have no recollection of this.”
Wei Ying looks like he’s about to sigh at him, but then he laughs instead. “You know, that’s possibly the worst insult you could give him. Anyway, he’s been fired from the bank.”
“Have the accounts been fixed?” Lan Huan asks.
“I think your uncle is looking into it,” Wei Ying says, rubbing the side of his nose.
Lan Zhan passes him his drink and he starts guzzling it down. It’s a hot day outside, and well, Lan Huan is paying for all of them.
But Lan Huan doesn’t seem to mind. He glances between the two of them and then returns to his own drink, smiling faintly.
“Do you want to sue him?” Wei Ying asks. “You probably can.”
Lan Zhan thinks about it for a moment, and looks to his brother for his thoughts.
Lan Huan shakes his head slowly. “I’m just glad it all turned out okay.”
Lan Zhan nods his head, his mind back in Jiang Cheng’s apartment, when he realized that if it came down to it, if he was truly forced to take sides and pick, his family’s wishes simply didn’t come first. It hurt more than he could’ve imagined, to think that his brother, his first friend, his constant supporter, and turned his back to Lan Zhan like that.
Now he sits across from Lan Huan, and they share a look of mutual understanding.
“No,” Lan Zhan agrees. He still doesn’t know who Su She is, and frankly, he doesn’t care to give that man the attention.
“Okay,” Wei Ying says, shrugging slightly. “Plus,” he adds, nudging Lan Zhan’s side, “Lan Zhan has to practice for his first gig next Saturday.”
Lan Zhan flushes, pleased with himself. “Mm,” he agrees.
“That sounds exciting,” Lan Huan jumps in. “What’s the gig for?”
Lan Zhan smiles faintly, and tells him.