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To say that Chay was confused would be an understatement. He was shaken. Panicked. Terrified. He felt like he was losing his mind. His eyes couldn’t be showing the truth. If they were, he definitely wouldn’t be where his gaze suggested he was.
Chay squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring all the evidence telling him he wasn’t wrong. He had to be mistaken.
Being transported to the world of a book you were reading only happened in those poor mangas that never even scored a 6/10 on those illegal online sites where he used to read them. It was always the main character or some wicked villainess, destined to be destroyed during the story. The people who got transported were always beautiful young girls or brilliant men.
Never, in any of the stories he had read, was it a teenage boy who had just been dumped by the love of his life.
For this reason, what Chay was seeing had to be a mistake. A product of his imagination.
Chay couldn’t have been transported to the Chinese gay story recommended by his school friend, one that he hadn’t even finished. He couldn’t have been sent to the world of cultivation. He couldn’t possibly be in the universe of Mo Dao Zu Shi.
Chay didn’t want that.
He just wanted to open his eyes. See the ceiling of his room and cry his eyes out, remembering Kim, who had used him and broken his heart. Chay really didn’t want to be transported to this strange, unknown world. The worst part, though, was that Chay didn’t even have the chance to finish reading the book. He didn’t know what would happen next. He had only skimmed a few chapters where Wei Ying and Lan Zhan were... well, doing their thing. Because, like any abandoned teenager, he was sexually frustrated and used their shared stories as good material for his own handwork. Chay thought Wei Ying must have been incredibly flexible to manage the "every day means every day" of the second young master Lan. He might even go for the "every day means every day" if only someone would love him the same way Wei Ying was loved.
He looked around.
When he woke up in this unfamiliar place, he stood up and walked forward. He was wearing a white robe with a lotus symbol embroidered on the sleeves. He didn’t know when, but he had arrived at a stream. He leaned over, wanting to splash his face with cold water.
That’s when he saw it.
Gray eyes. Not his eyes. They stared back at him from the surface of the water.
He leaned forward, falling into the stream. He had to remain still for a moment, waiting for the water to settle enough so he could see his reflection again.
Black hair, tied in a high ponytail with a red ribbon. Silver eyes. Red lips.
Chay wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating or if he was seeing the truth again.
Being transported to a book world was one thing. Being transported and taking the place of the main character was something entirely different.
Chay began to cry. He hit the surface of the water. The cold liquid soaked through his clothes, making the fabric twice as heavy. He was freezing, and the cold only made him cry more.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he rose from the stream. Water dripped from his robes and hair. With slow steps, he moved forward again. He didn’t know where he was or where he was going. But he hoped he could somehow find his way back home. He just wanted to wake up and hug his brother. Porsche would definitely yell at him for disappearing, but a moment later, he would hug him and let him cry until his bad mood faded. No one could comfort like Porsche could.
Chay walked on until he reached the stairs.
He began to climb them, one slow step after another. He didn’t pay attention to his surroundings, too lost in his thoughts. Because of this, he didn’t notice the cultivators in white robes running away from him. He didn’t hear the commotion or the screams. He didn’t hear the noise that was forbidden in Gusu Lan.
When he finally lifted his head, the first thing he saw—and almost recognized—was an older man, dressed entirely in white. A white ribbon adorned his forehead. His golden eyes looked at Chay with a familiarity that Chay couldn’t understand.
His mind, clouded by sadness and fear, somehow connected those golden eyes with the figure he knew from the book. The only figure who had always loved and protected Wei Ying. Lan Zhan.
Chay rushed toward him, not holding back his tears.
“Laz Zhaaaaaan.”
He moaned, choking between sobs.
He didn’t care that his dirty, wet robes were staining the once-immaculate white robes of the Second Young Master of Gusu Lan. Chay didn’t care about that now. He wrapped his arms around the man and let him embrace him. He needed this. He needed at least some comfort. Even that awkward hug, nothing like the perfect ones his brother gave him, was enough now.
Finally, the exhaustion, fear, and the strain of constant crying caught up to Chay. He leaned into the man’s embrace, falling asleep. His body collapsed into Lan Zhan’s arms, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Lan Zhan caught him, lifting his smaller body effortlessly and carrying him in his arms. His steps led toward the hospital.
He didn’t understand what had happened. The man in his arms looked like Wei Ying. Like Wei Ying, the one he had once known. Like the man he had fallen in love with. But it couldn’t be Wei Ying because his beloved was still sleeping at their home. He couldn’t look the same as the day they met, because almost two decades had passed since then.
Lan Zhan was confused.
He wasn’t the confused child he once had been. Now, he knew that even if he didn’t understand what was happening around him, he had to stay strong. He had to act first. Only then could he think about what was going on.
He left Wei Ying under the care of the healers as he walked quickly toward his home. He didn’t run—running was forbidden in Gusu. As he had left him, Wei Ying was still sleeping. Covered by a light blanket, hiding his naked form. Lan Zhan could easily notice the remnants of their night’s activities on the man's body.
He kissed Wei Ying on the neck, leaning over him.
"Lan Zhaaaan. Not yet."
Wei Ying groaned, snuggling deeper into the blanket and turning his back to Lan Zhan. He wished he could let him sleep. Wei Ying was a genius, and he needed him to understand what was going on.
"Wei Ying."
He spoke softly. Wei Ying could sense the seriousness in his voice. He stopped pretending to sleep, sitting up in bed. He studied Lan Zhan, looking for reasons on his face as to why Lan Zhan was waking him so early, by Wei Ying's standards.
"What’s going on, Lan Zhan?"
He asked seriously. As always, Wei Ying could shed his carefree and sweet demeanor when the situation required it. But Lan Zhan didn’t know how to explain what he had witnessed.
"Wei Ying has returned."
He simply said. Wei Ying shrugged but didn’t hesitate. He dressed quickly and tied his hair, following Lan Zhan as he led him to the healers. The younger Wei Ying was still asleep.
"He's fine."
The healer, who had examined Wei Ying, spoke.
"He looks dehydrated, but it’s nothing serious."
He added after a moment. He left them alone.
Wei Ying leaned over the sleeping boy. He touched his cheek, observing every wrinkle on his face, running his fingers over his shoulders. It seemed as though he was tracing a path known only to him. A collection of old scars and injuries from his first body. All the marks of his cultivation journey. All the cuts he had given himself during his sword training. All the scars left by the punishments Madam Yu had inflicted on him during his childhood.
Wei Ying found only some of them. The oldest marks, those from his body before his death, were definitely missing. However, those he did find matched his memories of that body. They fit his recollections from around the time before his guest lectures in Gusu.
"Wei Ying?"
Lan Zhan asked, breaking the prolonged silence.
"Mhhm."
Wei Ying simply agreed.
"What does that mean?"
Lan Zhan asked again. It was rare for him to be the one speaking more between them, but the situation had caused Wei Ying’s mind to sink into theories.
"Let’s wait."
Wei Ying said, sitting on one side of the bed. Lan Zhan took a seat beside him. Wei Ying’s hands moved nervously over his knees.
Lan Zhan caught both of them and squeezed them in his own. A little tension disappeared from Wei Ying’s posture, but he didn’t fully relax.
"Aigo... I’ve always wanted to ask you, Lan Zhaan. Which body do you prefer? Don’t you regret that I was called into this body? Maybe you prefer my original one more? Which one would you love more? Lan Zhan? Lan Wanji?"
He asked, bringing a smile to his face. However, Lan Zhan could easily notice a trace of uncertainty sprouting in Wei Ying. He could see that Wei Ying wanted to pull back, that the joke was meant to offer him an escape. Wei Ying was scared. Lan Zhan couldn’t allow that.
"Wei Ying is Wei Ying."
He said, trying to make sure that his voice only carried certainty and sincere feelings. Lan Zhan couldn’t explain how it worked. For him, it had never mattered which body Wei Ying was in—as long as it was Wei Ying, he intended to love him.
Wei Ying laughed. Lan Zhan could still see that his smile wasn’t entirely sincere.
"Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan! Which one do you like more? This me, or the old me? You can choose!"
He said, shaking their joined hands.
Before Lan Zhan had a chance to answer, the boy on the bed stirred. He groaned and rubbed his forehead with his hand.
"Ah, fuck. My head hurts."
He opened his silver eyes. He looked around.
"Fuck."
He cursed again. Wei Ying burst into laughter.
"Ha! That wasn’t me!"
He said, delighted.
"I would never curse seeing Lan Zhan. The most beautiful sight you could see upon waking up. Just look at those golden eyes. The miracle of the world. The most beautiful man in the world. My man!"
He said proudly, cupping Lan Zhan’s face with his hands. The man let him do so without any protest. Wei Ying could always do whatever he wanted with him. Lan Zhan belonged to Wei Ying in the same way that Wei Ying belonged solely to Lan Zhan.
"Haaaa."
Wei Ying sighed, lying back on the bed.
"Fuck."
Chay muttered. He felt like rubbing his eyes. Just now, one of his wet dreams had come to life, and he could watch them. He held a small hope that they would ignore him and, in a moment, strip off their robes and take it a step further. Chay wanted to see that. However, the men stopped. Their full attention turned to him. Chay felt embarrassed. Now, he wanted the bed he was lying on to open up and swallow him whole. He wished he could hide from the combined, assessing gazes of the golden and black eyes.
"Who are you?"
Finally, the smaller of the men asked. Chay didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but he suspected this was none other than the protagonist of the book—Wei Ying. And next to him sat the most handsome of the Lan Clan cultivators—Lan Zhan.
He just wanted to watch them.
At the same time, he wanted to wake up from this crazy dream. He stayed silent. He couldn’t find the words to describe what was happening around him. He simply let his eyes close again, collapsing onto the bed like a puppet whose strings had been cut, completely lifeless.
“Fuck.” He thought, before darkness swallowed him once again.