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“There—” Wang Yibo says excitedly, and points up into the heavens. “Do you see it?”
He watches as Xiao Zhan follows his finger with his eyes and squints, canting forward slightly, as if those few extra centimeters would bring him meaningfully closer to the brilliant streak cutting through the inky night sky. It’s just bright enough to be seen despite the set lights still glowing around Hengdian.
Xiao Zhan, though, doesn't see it. He shakes his head and playfully shoves Yibo’s shoulder. “Waah, you know how nearsighted I am! How am I supposed to see a shooting star?”
Yibo lets loose one of his croaky laughs, then bumps Xiao Zhan’s arm, jostling him from his perch on the rooftop where they’ve been sitting. The hard, rounded roof tiles are painfully uncomfortable, but Yibo doesn’t want to be anywhere else right now.
“Maybe you should wish for perfect vision like mine, Zhan-ge.”
“We can’t all be perfect like you, Lao Wang,” Xiao Zhan scoffs with a fond roll of his eyes.
Yibo flashes a placating smile in return without missing a beat. “I was wrong, I was wrong! Zhan-ge is already the perfect man—”
Xiao Zhan bares his teeth and gives Yibo another shove. Yibo grins; he can't get enough of this, their effortless, comfortable teasing, of having Xiao Zhan’s eyes and hands on him.
There are only a few more weeks of filming, and then… what? Yibo doesn't want to think about the end of this unforgettable summer, about having to have The Talk. It’s a problem for Future Yibo, he decides. For now, there's this rooftop, with Xiao Zhan next to him.
“Aish, Lao Wang! Are you even human?” Xiao Zhan’s cheeks go pink, a shy grin on his lips. “Hurry, ah! Make your wish — it’s your 21st birthday, after all.”
“I wish for you to make a wish,” Yibo replies. He says it with a lopsided grin, but he means it. Yibo wants to be the one to make all of Xiao Zhan’s wishes come true.
“That’s not how it works! I didn't see the shooting star, so I can’t make the wish.”
“Who says?”
Xiao Zhan rolls his eyes again in exasperation. “Just make a wish, Lao Wang.”
“Okay, okay,” Yibo relents with a smile. “Whatever Zhan-ge wants—”
Yibo lets his gaze linger on Xiao Zhan, on his beautiful smile with the tiny mole underneath, on his lovely, clever eyes. He’s a vision in all-white robes at his side.
Yibo breathes in and closes his eyes.
This. This is what I wish for.
As he opens his eyes again, the first thing he notices is that it’s strangely quiet on the rooftop. No whir of a generator, no echoing sounds of construction or shouts from the crew. Just... silence.
The second thing Yibo notices is the old man sitting cross-legged in front of him.
“Aaahhh!” Yibo startles and falls back against the hard tiles, then scrambles to reach for Xiao Zhan — whether to protect him or to gain comfort from him, Yibo isn't quite certain. Probably both.
Xiao Zhan, though, is a disconcertingly quiet and unmoving presence next to Yibo, his face still lit up with that fondly peeved look that Yibo adores… but the fact that his expression hasn't changed is making Yibo panic.
“Zhan-ge—” He nudges Xiao Zhan’s shoulder with mounting alarm. “Zhan-ge?” There’s no response.
Yibo turns to the old man, his desperation growing. “Wh-what’s going on,” Yibo wails. “What’s wrong with him? Why doesn’t he—”
The old man just stares at Yibo with a bemused expression on his face that quickly settles into a look of understanding.
Yibo pauses to study the old man before him. There’s something familiar about the intensity of his gaze that stops him short. Yibo eyes him with suspicion. “Did - did you have something to do with this? Who are you?”
The old man huffs a laugh, one side of his lips curling up into a cocky smirk that looks all out of place on his aged face.
“I’m you, Yibo. From the future.”
Yibo shakes his head. “That’s crazy, that’s—” But then the old man’s features snap into place in his mind, familiar and alien at the same time.
Under the grey hair, the wrinkles, and the frumpy uncle clothes (a shapeless button-up shirt in a loudly uncool blue-sky-white-cloud print, worn over drab-colored baggy slacks), he looks like...
Oh my god.
Old Yibo takes in Yibo’s wide-eyed gape and leans forward with purpose. “Yeah, it was weird for me too. But listen, I can't stay long, so pay attention, ah?”
Yibo nods warily, and flicks his eyes over to Xiao Zhan, still frozen in place beside him. Old Yibo’s eyes follow his, and his features soften. “Ah, Zhan-ge,” he murmurs, a little wistfully.
Yibo sucks in a breath and his attention snaps back to the old man. “What are you - did we—” He swallows nervously. “Zhan-ge— is - is he—”
Old Yibo looks smug. “Oh, he's fine. And yeah, still mine. Ours.” He gestures confidently between them with a hand, and Yibo's eyes widen at the sight of a gleaming ring on it.
The significance of the golden band hits Yibo like a bolt of lightning and a broad grin spreads across Yibo’s face. He turns to gaze at Xiao Zhan. Mine for a lifetime.
“You - you mean we—”
Old Yibo doesn't respond, though, his attention on Xiao Zhan instead. “Zhan-ge... he was so handsome and cute like this,” he smiles, as he fingers the hem of Xiao Zhan’s white robes. “The cutest—”
Yibo’s happy grin fades into a pouty frown when he notices the casual way the old man touches Xiao Zhan’s costume. With a warning look, Yibo firmly tugs the fabric out of Old Yibo’s fingers and smooths it back over Xiao Zhan’s knee.
Old Yibo chuckles and holds his hands up in surrender. “You’ll eventually grow out of that.”
“Out of what?”
“Feeling jealous of anyone and everyone who admires him. You’ll have to stop that, because he’ll have lots of admirers. He’ll love only you, and you will have to trust that, or you’ll risk driving him away.”
Yibo thinks back to the night Xiao Zhan confessed his feelings, the way it felt unbelievable and inevitable all at once. His face warms at the memory, at the thought of all the other whispered declarations since.
He looks up. “How did you— oh… right.” Yibo reddens, realizing that the old man before him already knows everything, no matter how private.
“Trust in him,” Old Yibo says again, “but don't ever take him for granted, okay? There’s no one else like him—”
“Oh, I know that.”
Old Yibo scoffs. “You think you know everything, that you're ready for what's to come, but waaah — you’re so young, both of you, and you don’t know—”
“Don't know what?”
“Ah, I don’t want to spoil the adventure, kid,” and Old Yibo smirks at the furious glare his younger self gives him.
“Did you come here just to mess with me?” Yibo grumbles. “You know very well I hate being called a kid.”
Old Yibo cackles. “Let an old man have some fun, will you? I've been waiting for this night for a long time! And anyway, you are a kid… but you'll grow up fast. This summer, this drama you're making together… it's gonna make him a big star—”
“I knew it!” Yibo exclaims with a satisfied fist pump. “I keep telling him how good he is—”
“—and you too—”
Yibo shrugs, nonchalant. “Well, yeah—”
Old Yibo’s eyes widen and he makes a wheezing, croaky sound that is disconcertingly familiar. “Waaah, Zhan-ge was right, I really was such a narcissist!” Old Yibo loses himself in laughter for a moment, and the awkward sound makes Yibo realize that Xiao Zhan is right about his ridiculous laugh too (not that Xiao Zhan doesn't have his own silly laugh).
“Well, it works for us, doesn't it?” Yibo smirks. “So— what else does Zhan-ge say about us?”
“Ahh,” Old Yibo responds, still chortling as he wipes his eyes, and then he's suddenly serious. “He says we are steady and true, his rock and his safe haven in the tough times.”
Yibo feels a burst of warmth in his chest at the idea that his six-years-senior Zhan-ge would come to rely on him like this. But— “The tough times?” Yibo furrows his brow. “You said this drama will make us stars… so what happens? Does something go wrong?”
Old Yibo gives him a knowing look. “You'll find that the fame you've been working so hard to achieve has a dark side. You’ve already seen it. Just— ahhh, you’ll see.”
“No, tell me!”
“Telling you won't mean you’ll be able to avoid it all,” Old Yibo says with a sad shake of his head. “And that’s when you’ll grow, when you’ll learn what you’re made of, how strong you are— and how strong and resilient he is,” he says with a head tilt in Xiao Zhan’s direction. “He’s a fighter, just like you are, and he’ll be there for you too, when things get hard.”
Yibo bites his lip into a flat line, recalling that his birthday livestream that very day had been overrun by antis. The reason they were stargazing on the roof together was because Xiao Zhan wanted to comfort him, to be his safe haven.
Old Yibo coughs (because that's apparently a thing Yibo will never stop doing). “Ah yes,” he says sadly, “that livestream. Yeah, so you know.”
They sit in silence for a moment, and then Old Yibo sighs. “Anyway, I’m here to tell you it’s all worth it. All of it, the good and the bad— and you’ll make it through together if you remember that.”
“But what can I do? To make sure we make it?” Yibo clenches his fists. He hates being unprepared, especially when it comes to the things he really wants. And Old Yibo is showing him a future he desperately wants. “I need to know how to help him, how to keep him. You know— you know how I feel about him.”
Old Yibo meets his eyes with a fierce look. “I know. So just love him. Keep being there for him.”
Yibo bobs his head. “I can do that.”
“Can you?” Old Yibo looks at him skeptically. “It means you have to stay healthy for him, because he’ll need you and you can’t help him if you don’t take care of yourself, alright? Like, Zhan-ge’s right about the knees— stop being so stubborn and wear the kneepads, dammit. Get your rest and eat right.”
Yibo groans. “I know all that. What about him, though? Does he ever get better about eating? I keep nagging and nagging—”
“Oh god, he's so stubborn, isn't he??” Old Yibo shakes his head and laughs. “Yeah, stay on Zhan-ge about that. He’s always ‘forgetting’ to eat— it makes me crazy! And make sure he’s careful about his waist. He’s so tall, and he’s always hunching over— you've seen his posture when he’s drawing!”
Yibo chuckles easily at this — they're so familiar and comfortable, these complaints, and apparently he has a lifetime to be aggravated by his Zhan-ge’s bad habits. Yibo can't wait.
“—keep up with the Korean too, he really likes it. And— just wear the red underwear, okay?”
Yibo raises an eyebrow, but Old Yibo barrels on.
“I mean, there will be times when you just know he's being ridiculous, or that you're right and he's wrong, but— ahhh, there's just never enough time, and—” He exhales heavily. “Just - just don't waste the time arguing about it. Stay focused on the important stuff. There's only so much time to treasure one another.”
Yibo chews on his lip, suddenly overwhelmed by the thought that this is him, decades later, still saying there's not enough time to be with Xiao Zhan.
He thinks about how filming is ending soon, about whether they'll ever have time together like this again. But as he looks at Old Yibo, he realizes that they've made it work before. Xiao Zhan loves him. He’ll do what it takes to hold onto that for however long they have.
As if reading his mind, Old Yibo leans forward and takes Yibo's hands in his. “Don’t screw this up, kid, because I don’t want to be without him— I - I don’t know what I would do - what I would have done without him,” he finishes, voice thick.
“I don't wanna be without him either, you know,” Yibo huffs.
“I know. I know,” Old Yibo sighs. “It's just— we're old now, and there's not much time left for us. And Zhan-ge— he's slowing - slowing down, and - and—” He takes a deep breath, then reaches up to wipe a tear from his eye, his ring glinting in the light. “Just— don't waste our time.”
Yibo blinks away the tears that suddenly burn in his eyes, and when he looks up again, Old Yibo is gone.
“Yibo?”
The set around them is buzzing with activity and noise again. Yibo turns his head, and is met with Xiao Zhan’s beautiful smile, those eyes that always seem to see right through Yibo.
“Are you okay there? Maybe you need more rest, Lao Wang.” He puts a gentle hand on Yibo’s back. “We don't have to go running tomorrow morning if you're feeling tired—”
“No, Zhan-ge! We’ll go. Together.” He swallows a little nervously. They've danced around it, what comes after Chen Qing Ling wraps, but now Old Yibo’s voice — his voice — echoes in his head.
There's only so much time to treasure one another.
Yibo gathers his courage. “I wanna do everything together. I want us to be together— always. That’s - that's my birthday wish.”
A brilliant, relieved grin blooms across Xiao Zhan’s face. “Yeah,” he nods. “I want that too.” But then he pulls an exaggeratedly stern face, and narrows his eyes at Yibo. “Aiyaah, Lao Wang! You're not supposed to tell me what you wished for — your wish won't come true then!”
Yibo looks up, his eyes scanning the patch of night sky where the falling star had burned so brightly before. He smiles.
“This one will.”
What has been set for me at the age of 21, I think that at age 81 will still be true.