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There is noise somewhere in the universe. It is a constant buzz around a child’s spinning head, bouncing around a nightclub in Berlin, the sound of screams when you’re strapped in a death machine above an amusement park.
It’s not next to Wei Wuxian. Not now, at least.
His fingers tighten on the wheel once more as he drives faster and faster, against any holy limits of speed, and turns like the devil owes him rent.
“Wei Wuxian appears to be seeking his death today—but holy hell if it’s not paying off. He’s jumped three places in the last lap and looks to be reaching for three more! Keep your eyes on him folks, this one’s troubl—“
The announcer’s voice is bursting beside countless cheering fans. None of them remember his name anymore, but Wei Wuxian tucks the sight into his heart for another time.
Gravity pulls at him harder and harder, but he’s so fucking close to the finish line, he just has to push these few seconds, just one more turn and one more line and there it is, right there, close as the next breath—
“And Wei Wuxian takes first in a shocking turn of events!”
The crowd goes wild. There’s celebrations happening around the arena: champagne is poured; swear words being wiped from official footage; victorious smiles on the team’s faces.
Wei Wuxian clambers out of the car and offers them a smile. It’s a loose, lazy thing that sprawls over the couch and begs its owner for more food.
With a tug and press, his helmet’s off just as soon as his feet touch the ground, and his balaclava soon after that.
As soon as he does, fans of the team that called him in—what was it called again? He can’t even remember right now—scream to the high heavens.
By the time the trophies are being given out, Wei Wuxian’s dug open a new bottle of wine and chugged half of it to cover the taste of bitter medicine.
Suibian, his trusty van that he’s been living in and out of for the better part of the past thirteen years, groans and comes to life.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay with our team?” Ouyang Something asks him. Wei Wuxian’s currently drunk to the point of being able to remember the man’s last name, albeit just barely, but not drunk enough that he can’t pass for sober in the haze of police lights.
Wei Wuxian laughs a little at that. “Oh, you know. It’s nice to get on the road, and I don’t like being tied down! I’m sure you won’t miss me too much!”
The man nods like it makes sense when, clearly, he doesn’t understand why Wei Wuxian won’t take his offer. He’s friendly enough with his team and his son’s been following him around like a little duck.
By all accounts, this is the best offer he’s going to land for the next few years. The money would be good, the people even better, and he’d get to race every two weeks.
Still, he was never going to take that offer, no matter how high the reward went.
The reason why—it’s probably nothing close to what Ouyang’s thinking, and honestly, it doesn’t really matter right now —despite his words, their paths won’t cross for a while.
His path has always been a solitary, winding creature, liable to intersect the trodden path on occasion, but leaving well enough alone for the most part.
Wei Wuxian is crouching over a map, highlighter in hand, when he feels a familiar prick over his neck.
By sheer willpower, his head doesn’t pivot to the spot he knows has someone he knows even better standing there.
“Looking to borrow a pen?” Wei Wuxian jokes.
Lan Wangji looks at him flatly without blinking, something like amusement in those eyes of his.
Wei Wuxian stifles a laugh and continues. “Well, you can’t borrow mine. It’s very special to me, you see. A friend gave it to me a while back.”
Finally, Lan Wangji speaks.
“A friend?”
His voice is almost timid, even with the way his tone flattens the ground and the shadows beneath.
Ah, Lan Zhan. No one believed me when I said you were shy all those years ago, Wei Wuxian mourns. They definitely wouldn’t believe me now!
“Yup. In fact, you look just like this friend of mine.” Wei Wuxian leans back in his chair and waits for Lan Wangji’s face to burn.
Instead, the man looks at him calmly and tilts his head. “And how is this friend of yours like?”
Wei Wuxian suddenly feels a buzz in his ears. He desperately wants something to fidget with or hide behind, like a nice and convenient table.
Unfortunately, Lan Wangji is taller than he is nice, and could definitely spot him hiding behind those gigantic washing machines.
“Very mean to me,” Wei Wuxian turns his lips downward. “Liked to make fun of me a lot.”
Lan Wangji lets out a short huff of laughter. His arms flex as he lifts a chair out from beneath the table and sits down, right beside Wei Wuxian.
“I don’t make fun of you.” Lan Zhan’s eyes crinkle ever so slightly.
Wei Wuxian spins the highlighter around with his right hand, enjoying the way Lan Zhan’s eyes track the movement like hounds. It takes the pressure off him for just long enough for him to breathe.
“Sure, Lan Zhan. Sure.”
The story goes like this: there is a boy with a smile brighter than the sun and another boy with a mind faster than light.
When they meet, sticky and gap-toothed in the jungle of karts and fellow preteens, it’s like a countdown comes to an end. The fireworks start; the sun finally comes up; a dam bursts.
Pick your poison.
For one, it’s like being drawn to a god. Praying to their statue, erected from cold stone, never knowing what they’re thinking or if their thoughts of you exist at all.
For the other, it’s like the sun draws near and you finally realise why it’s been worshipped for millennia. It’s the pocket of yellow around your art projects, it’s the spot your rabbits huddle next to, it’s the bringer of life and love and you can’t get enough.
There are traces of the other in everything they do. A set of custom dice, the single dot replaced with a carving of a rabbit. Pressed flower bookmarks in textbooks. Teas in one house and energy drinks in the other.
And even when others whisper, their bond remains there, tempered by the rashness of puberty and the greed of paparazzi.
When Lan Wangji’s mother kills herself and gossip rags publish hit after hit, it’s Wei Ying that brings his sister’s soup to the Lans’ door.
It’s Wei Ying that still chases him and forces him to leave the hallway where his mother’s door lays.
It’s Wei Ying, through and through.
But when Wei Ying gets into an accident alongside his brother, footage of the event so blurry no one can make head or tail of what happened, it’s not Lan Zhan that goes to his hospital bed, wherever it is.
It’s an empty spot. It’s the lack of a signature on the visitors list. It’s the empty notifications bar as the sponsors take their money and run.
Jiang Cheng is in a coma and Jiang Yanli is halfway across the world, begging to use her phone as her mother rages and screams for her son and her father scrambling to find organ donors.
And it’s Wei Wuxian, still conscious and able to sign forms, who signs the form to throw his life away for his brother.
Jiang Cheng wakes up, memory foggy, and only hears noise about how his brother sent him into a coma and ran.
Their family never sues, no matter what the news says. There’s always a bit more soup on the kitchen table.
But there Wei Wuxian is, reeling from a surgery, entire body aching. He picks himself up and goes to race after race, ignoring the reporters that throw insults and slurs at him like stones.
Sticks and stones feel awfully similar at this level of strength. He can still drink the pain away though, and isn’t that all that really matters?
Lan Wangji is still mourning his father’s death when his uncle mentions Wei Ying’s scandal.
He had never been one to keep up with the news. He hadn’t checked his phone in a month.
He didn’t know. He didn’t. Did he know that, or did he just think he had abandoned him? He had to know, didn’t he? He didn’t.
When Lan Wangji rushes to his phone, all he finds is a deleted number and ninety deleted messages, even as he scrolls back and back until his phone can’t handle it.
And then Wei Wuxian goes on to bigger and braver races, all while Lan Wangji arrives a second too late.
The only time Lan Wangji manages to catch him and ask him—
Come back to Gusu with me, Wei Ying. Please.
All Wei Ying does is stare and leave. His eyes impossibly sad. There’s whiskey on his tongue and blood crescents welling on his palms.
And then nothing happens, not until—
“Jin Zixuan’s car—Oh my god—Someone send help!” Nie Huaisang cries from the announcer’s booth. There’s horror hidden beneath the crowd’s screams, so similar to when they were yelling for Jin Zixuan to overtake just a moment ago.
No one is doing anything, at least not fast enough. Jin Zixuan will die painfully, surrounded by fire and melting steel, in the next ten minutes.
Chenqing lies abandoned by the path, its right side completely wrecked by the accident.
Jiang Yanli is wearing out the floor in a circle when Wei Wuxian dives into the fire—that he caused, he did this, he did—and drags the man out, promptly passing out later.
It’s probably the only thing that saved him from getting banned.
The whispers that follow him after—How could he do that to his own sister? Was this out of petty jealousy? Did he only save him later because he was scared? Why was he really kicked out?—they make sure the lack of a ban doesn’t matter.
He runs and runs until the only races he can bear are the ones that don’t know his shame, and he runs some more.
Lan Wangji’s a rare sighting, but he’s more common than any other face Wei Wuxian remembers from his glory days.
“Come back to Gusu with me.” Lan Wangji begs. The sky cries beside him, but the umbrella in his hand protects Wei Wuxian from getting wet at the cost of the tears down his back.
This time, Wei Wuxian deigns to respond to the man he could have still raced against in another life.
“What’s left for me there, Hanguang-jun?” The nickname makes Lan Wangji flush, but his gaze holds steady against Wei Wuxian for once. “You think I can race again with the entire fucking world against me?”
Wei Wuxian finally turns and walks away, only sparing one final glance for the man behind him, holding an umbrella against the pouring torrent of rain.
“Thank you for the offer.” Wei Wuxian murmurs. “But I can’t accept.”
Wei Ying
There’s a new race car and we need a test driver. Would you be willing to come back to Gusu? with me?
Message Information
Sent 11:45
Read 11:52
Wei Ying is typing…
Wei Ying is typing…
Wei Ying is typing…
sorry, can’t make it i don’t want to see
jiang cheng would be there
maybe next time haha
sorry
“Come back to Gusu with me.” Lan Zhan says quietly, staring at his own reflection through the tinted glass of an arcade game.
Wei Ying plays like he was born for it, his hands flying over the controls. It’s only when the ball lands in the correct hole and sinks where they can’t see that he turns away from the game and looks at him.
He looks as he did all those years ago, but there is nothing of that same arrogant, reckless bravado now.
“…I’ll think about it.” He huffs. “But you know no one will be happy if I come back.”
“I will.” Lan Wangji tilts his head and watches red creep up Wei Ying’s neck like overgrown ivy.
Wei Ying bits his lip and closes his eyes briefly. “You know what I mean.”
Despite himself, there is a familiar warmth in his ears, in his cheeks, in his white-knuckled grip.
“Do I?” Lan Wangji returns, gaze similarly heated despite the coolness of his tone.
Then the moment passes, and Wei Ying returns to Suibian with a ticket in hand and a set of dice ready to fall.
Will he or won’t he? Lan Wangji thinks as his plane takes off, leaving the city in a mess of lights and building blocks.
He truly doesn’t know what his oldest friend will do. He never has.
All Lan Wangji can do is trust, and trust he does. He holds it with him in a gentle cradle, nourishing it even as the calendar days are struck off and there is no sign of Wei Ying.
He trusts and hopes.
It’s midnight and Suibian is grumbling beneath him. There’s a bottle of half-finished brandy beneath his bed, a can of warm beer somewhere on the floor, and about fifty painkillers scattered around the car.
If a policeman were to pull him over at this moment, even Wei Wuxian’s silver tongue wouldn’t be enough to pull him out of the fine he’d get.
Lan Wangji. Lan Zhan. Hanguang-jun. Wei Ying slurs in a drunken haze, the characters barely intelligible in the sea of alcohol clouding his brain.
Will you come back to Gusu with me? The shadows stretch as they mouth that same damn question.
Will you come back to Gusu with me?
Wei Wuxian looks at the dice on the table and tucks it into his pocket. He feels like Alice now.
Lan Wangji watches as Wei Wuxian salutes him with an easy grin, his ponytail swaying side to side, tied up by that same red ribbon that’s been haunting his dreams since he first stole a glance at it decades ago.
“Who’s that?” Lan Jingyi questions. Beside him, Lan Sizhui squints at the figure in confusion.
“A miracle.” He mutters under his breath.
If Lan Jingyi hears him, he makes no mention of it.
“Why is he holding a helmet?” Jin Ling questions, his hands making deft work of the straps around his neck.
His insecurity around his position doesn’t stem from being scared that he won’t be able to race in Formula One.
In fact, two of his uncles own teams on the track. More than two if you were counting his extended family.
Yunmeng would welcome him with open arms, but he’s never suited purple. His father warned him of Lanling gold and the price it took to buy it.
Gusu was, and still is, the only team where he managed to avoid the nepotism whispers that began after he angered the wrong journalist as a quick-tempered teenager.
And more than that, even though no one would be able to get it out of Jin Ling, he had grown familiar with the place. The people there.
He wasn’t going to let someone take his spot, even if Gusu had been lagging behind for the past few years, thanks to the Lans having to cut funding after their main base caught fire back in China.
They had gone from one of the biggest contenders on the track to the smallest. If they lost again this year, there had been rumours that the Lans might even cut costs and sell the team.
“Safety comes first.” Wei Wuxian laughs. His eyes widen as they spot Jin Ling’s face, a dead ringer for his father. “…Ah.”
Lan Wangji coughed. “Wei Ying, meet Jin Rulan—“
“Jin Ling.” Jin Ling muttered beneath his breath.
“—Gusu’s first driver.”
Wei Wuxian smiles, a bit uncomfortable now. Is it too late to run, he wants to ask.
Lan Wangji looks at him like he knows what Wei Wuxian was thinking and blinks slowly.
Yes.
“Jin Rulan,” Lan Wangji pretends not to hear Jin Ling’s whisper. “Meet Wei Wuxian.”
“…Why is he here?” Jin Ling’s face finally begins to clear, comprehension dawning on him. He knows exactly who Wei Wuxian is, even if he doesn’t know Wei Ying.
“To audition.” Lan Wangji says flatly. Was it not obvious, his eyes scream.
Wei Wuxian’s already made his way inside the garage, turning the full force of that award-winning smile—literally, since he had won Best Smile of the Year when they were nineteen—on the unsuspecting staff.
Wen Ning grins like Christmas’s come early and lets Wei Wuxian embrace him. Her sister cracks a smile and pats his shoulder slightly when she sees him, and Jin Ling’s jaw only drops slightly when he sees it.
What the fuck was happening?
Even as he murmurs insults beside Lan Jingyi and Lan SIzhui, there is a distinct feeling of envy wriggling beneath his frown.
“Isn’t he banned?” Jin Ling grumbles. His father’s scar, stretching over his shoulder and wrapped around his arm, should have been enough proof to get him kicked out.
Lan Sizhui just shrugs. There’s something brewing in his eyes that Jin Ling doesn’t want to look too deep into.
Lan Jingyi just wraps his arm around Jin Ling and laughs, pressing his weight down until they both stagger back.
“Don’t worry too much about it. He won’t pass his little test, and if he does, I know a guy who knows a guy.” Lan Jingyi smirks.
The moment is ruined by Lan Sizhui, who asks, “What are you even talking about?”
“Well, I—“ Lan Jingyi falters. “That’s not the point!”
“Then what is the point, Jingyi?” Hanguang-jun stands in front of them, blocking the sun with his suspiciously large frame.
Jin Ling can feel chills go down his back, and judging by Lan Jingyi’s wide eyes, he can too.
“I—Nothing.” He bows his head until Lan Wangji nods, satisfied, and leaves.
“Just go over and watch the man race.” Lan Sizhui sighs. “Don’t get too cocky yet.”
Jin Ling lets out a full-bellied laugh as Wei Wuxian clambers out of a burning vehicle.
His spot’s safe. It has to be, they all saw the numbers.
He looks at his friends, victorious.
“A-Niang, he’s—he’s so arrogant! I mean, I already knew that he drove into Jiujiu’s car and broke A-Die’s arm when he was my age, but come on! He just—AH!” Jin Ling devolves into a coughing fit as some of his spit slides down the wrong tube.
Jiang Yanli is barely listening now, her eyes cloudy. “Don’t talk so fast, A-Ling. Did you—did he say anything about where he was earlier?”
Out of coughs, Jin Ling slides down into a chair and shakes his head, grimacing at the slight pain that comes from it.
“I mean, I think he mentioned something? But he just said whatever afterwards, so I don’t really know.”
“Whatever? Did you just say Suibian?” Jiang Yanli freezes. Whatever she was expecting to hear, it wasn’t that.
“Yeah, yeah.” Jin Ling chows back down on his soup, uncaring of any cough now. He doesn’t notice the utter despair on his mother’s face.
Her brother. He’s living out of a van older than A-Ling.
Suddenly, the soup in front of her seems sour and bitter. She pushes it away from her, no longer hungry.
She won’t go find him, even though she desperately wants to. She’ll wait until he’s ready, even if that means it takes another decade.
She doesn’t want to rush it anymore.
“Take care of him, alright?” Jiang Yanli says abruptly. “He’s your teammate. You have to look after each other.”
“But—“ Jin Ling protests.
“No buts. Do as I say, alright?”
Jin Ling looks at his mother’s uncharacteristically firm tone and sighs. “…Fine. But it’s for you, not him.”
“And there’s yet another safety car on the track! This feels familiar somehow, am I right folks?” The announcer cries out.
Lan Xichen, though he looks calm from the outside, is quietly fretting in his mind. His brother might be the only one that notices, judging by his careful hand placement on his shoulder.
“Are we sure he knows what he’s doing now?” He murmurs to Lan Wangji. “It’s not too late to pull—”
“Yes.” His brother states, even if he doesn’t know what the hell is happening either.
Sighing, Lan Xichen resigns himself to watch the man his brother loves crash and burn, only for—
“And Gusu takes second!” The announcer cries out.
They win. By some miracle, they win.
Jin Ling grumbles about the methodology, but they win. They’re called dirty players, a shock to the pristine reputation of Gusu Lan, but they win.
And they’re one step closer to keeping the team.
“Our ally up on the board,” Lan Xichen smiles gently at the approaching figure. It’s somehow more genuine than any smile he’s offered Wei Wuxian, ever, even though nothing in his face really changes.
It’s the eyes, Wei Wuxian decides. It’s like they’ve come to life. “A-Yao, this is Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian, this is Jin Guangyao.”
“Nice to meet you.” Wei Wuxian shakes his hand first. It’s cold to the touch, like a block of ice, and he instinctively shivers.
He’s only ever really done well with the heat of Yunmeng. Every other temperature feels too hot or too cold, like some bizarre seesaw up and down the thermometer.
“You too,” Jin Guangyao smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve seen your recent races. Wonderful, really. Truly spectacular.”
Wei Wuxian laughs. “Ah, it’s nothing really.”
“Well, it seems awfully impressive to someone like me.”
“A-Yao’s always loved watching the races, but he’s never raced himself. ” Lan Xichen adds. “A shame, because he’d be so good at it.”
“Xichen, you flatter me.” This time, a small amount of blush reaches Jin Guangyao’s cheeks.
“No, really, you’ve always been incredible with numbers and such.” Lan Xichen watches his grin deepen and smiles as well. “There’s no use in pondering what ifs now though. Oh! That reminds me, Huaisang was just—”
Right on cue, Nie Huaisang runs to them, panting and out of breath. “Oh, I’m really in trouble this time! I can’t, I really don’t know what to do now!”
“Slow down, Huaisang.” Lan Xichen says gently. “You haven’t said what you came here for.”
Before he can speak, his eyes land on Wei Wuxian. “Wei-xiong? I didn’t know you were back! Why didn’t you text me, we could have gone out to eat or something, it’s been so long!”
Surrounded by so many familiar faces, Wei Wuxian suddenly remembers why he hid away in the back of his van for so long. He misses the safety Suibian brought. He misses—
“Huaisang.” Lan Wangji’s presence bears down on them all and makes both Jin Guangyao and Nie Huaisang falter in their speech. Despite its intimidating aura, Lan Xichen smiles softly and Wei Wuxian breathes out a sigh of relief.
“A–ah, Wangji-xiong.” Nie Huaisang stumbles over his speech like the clumsy child Wei Wuxian doesn’t remember him being. “What a coincidence! I was told you were busy…”
“I finished up early.” Lan Wangji states, all matter of fact. Wei Wuxian wants to pinch his cheeks until they pop.
“No matter, I’ll just—I—” Nie Huaisang grows increasingly flustered. Now that he remembers Nie Huaisang doing, alongside the rest of their friends who had spent more than a second in Lan Zhan’s presence.
Lan Xichen seemingly takes pity on him and places a hand on his shoulder. “How about we discuss this in private? I’m sure you’re busy, Wangji, and there’s always the next race. We’ll take it from here.”
Thank god. Wei Wuxian feels his shoulders sink as they direct a babbling Huaisang into a nearby meeting room and turns to look at Lan Wangji, whose eyes haven’t left his head once. He’s been feeling them burn a hole in his scalp for a while now.
“...I heard Jin Ling’s mad that I overtook him in the last race.” Wei Wuxian says abruptly. He can’t help but change the topic, the pressure is too much for a mortal mind to persevere through!
“Mn.” Lan Wangji hums, clearly sensing the change but choosing to humour him nonetheless.
“You have a plan for it? I don’t think any amount of reason will go through that boy’s head. He’s just as stubborn as his father and uncle.” Wei Wuxian hasn’t mentioned Jin Ling’s mother once in the entire time he’s been here, Lan Wangji notes.
“Mn.”
The sound makes Wei Wuxian laugh again. “Well, if Hanguang-jun has a plan, who am I to speak against it?”
Wei Wuxian doesn’t think he’s imagining it when he says he can see Lan Wangji’s eyes soften.
“Best out of three.” Lan Wangji says. “If Wei Ying wins, he'll be the first driver in the next race. Same goes for Jin Ling.”
Wei Wuxian huffs slightly while Jin Ling splutters beside him, clearly shocked at the idea of losing his spot.
“Didn’t he gamble for a living?!” Jin Ling demands.
Wen Qing shrugs and points to the set of dice on the table. “And we found him living out of Suibian.”
The reminder makes Lan Wangji’s eyes darken. His eyelashes flutter and catch the light, and for a moment, Wei Wuxian can feel his heart in his throat.
“Aw, Lan Zhan, you do care.” Wei Wuxian’s eyes glint dangerously at the thought of a new wager.
Wen Qing, already tired of them, rolls her eyes and snatches the dice up. “Oh for fuck’s sake, let’s just get a move on. I’ll go first.”
A quick breath christens them and they spin on the table, the dots barely visible as they go round and round, landing right in front of Jin Ling.
Six, four, six.
Wen Qing plucks four tiles from the line in front of Jin Ling without taking more than a second’s worth of consideration for the calculations, startling Wei Wuxian into taking the next four pieces as well.
Jin Ling and Lan Wangji follow suit, and by the time Jin Ling thinks to glare at Wei Wuxian again, they all have sixteen tiles in front of them.
“Let the game begin,” Wen Qing says sarcastically, letting the compass face north in front of her.
Wei Wuxian watches as Wen Qing places a tile with three bamboo shoots on the table and grins.
“Peng!” He crows. He plucks the tile out of Wen Qing’s grip and lays it down alongside its twins.
Jin Ling glances at the table nervously and frowns. His poker face is one of the worst Wei Wuxian’s seen—it might even be worse than his father’s!
It’s clear to him what Jin Ling needs. He’s been calling for four bamboo shoots for the past two rounds.
If Wei Wuxian’s guess is correct, Jin Ling’s tiles aren’t half-bad. And if they were playing for cash, there would be no way in hell that Wei Wuxian would do what he’s about to do.
He lets out a small pout in his mind as he nudges the four bamboo shoots forward.
Jin Ling isn’t even paying attention to his tiles, too focused on strategy to grasp the chance in front of him now.
The things he does for the kid…
“Four bamboo shoots.” Wei Wuxian mentions casually, hiding his grin when Jin Ling’s head snaps up.
Before anyone takes the tile, Jin Ling’s hand reaches out like lightning and yanks the tile towards himself.
“I—I won!” He breathes, stars in his eyes.
His tiles come down like palace walls, each trio a pile of gold shovelled in his direction.
Wei Wuxian pouts when Jin Ling whoops and cheers, seemingly dismayed at the loss.
“No first driver for me, I suppose,” He yawns. “You win.”
Before Wei Wuxian can turn his tiles down and shuffle them into oblivion for the next group, Lan Wangji turns towards him and takes a peek at his deck.
“…Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji says with a certain questioning tone he knows very well from his years of racing with the man.
The racer in question can only grin and shrug, tossing the tiles back into darkness. “What? Something on my face?”
Lan Wangji’s memory has always been good, and they both know how vital that piece was to Wei Wuxian’s deck. One more tile and he would have won.
This is just like him. Lan Wangji thinks, not unfondly. Always so self-sacrificing.
It just makes his heart beat a little faster.
“…”
Nothing comes out of his mouth.
There is wine in Lan Zhan’s mouth and it sticks to its roof and burns all the way down to his roots.
Why does anyone drink this? He wants to gag and spit it out, only—
His mind goes blank a second later.
“Ah, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying sighs. “I told you this cup was mine.”
Lan Zhan just tilts his head up and sideways, like a stray cat on the street. It’s extremely endearing for reasons Wei Ying is resolutely not thinking about.
“Let’s get you back to your hotel room.” He hoists the man up and lets his arm slide over his shoulders, shivering at the touch.
He doesn’t know why. Usually Lan Zhan’s as cool as a block of ice, but for now, he’s warm like the rest of them.
“Okay.” Lan Zhan slurs into his ear, his hot breath fanning out onto the shell. Wei Wuxian can smell the booze on it already and fights the urge to smile.
Together, they find a rhythm and make their way back. Wei Wuxian took a bunch of shots earlier and has feeling rather lightheaded, but it’s nothing compared to the complete lightweight next to him.
He’s missed this. A sickening feeling lays within his belly as he remembers how fast this will leave him.
This moment sours, but Wei Wuxian plasters a smile on his face and keeps marching.
Somehow, Lan Wangji seems to notice. “Don’t do that.”
“Huh?” Wei Wuxian is only half-listening now, too focused on the traffic lights to really hear what he’s saying.
“…” The sudden silence makes him turn his head though. As soon as he does, Lan Wangji uses his fingers to pry his mouth open and tug them to the sides lightly.
Smile. Wei Wuxian swallows. He wants me to smile.
“Why do you want me to smile?” His voice is garbled with the fingers in his mouth.
Lan Wangji ignores him. Or maybe he doesn’t. Wei Ying can’t hear much over the rush of his blood.
There’s something like the word dice thrown around, or perhaps it was lice? He’s a bit drunk right now, he really doesn’t know. Is this what Nie Huaisang feels like everyday?
Lan Wangji looks at him and shakes his head, clearly unsatisfied. His hands move up and down as they try to make him grin to no avail.
Wei Wuxian slowly moves them away from his face and catches a glimpse of Lan Wangji’s sullen face. There’s even a bit of a pout where a straight line would normally be.
The image makes him laugh. Hard.
The fingers draw from his mouth and settle on Lan Wangji’s side. Through his tears, he can’t see that pout disappear and be replaced by starry eyes, focused only on him.
If he had, maybe it would have all gone differently.
“…Why didn’t you tell me?” Lan Zhan says quietly, a storm brewing in his eyes. “You could have told me.”
Wei Wuxian lets out a bitter laugh. “You were grieving. How could I put that on you? How could I put this on anyone?”
“You gave all of you away for—for a man who did nothing when his family threw you out. THEY CARVED YOU OPEN AND LET YOU ROT!” Lan Zhan’s voice is rarely raised. But when he does choose to do so, the effect is amplified beyond what a normal person could possibly produce. “YOU COULD HAVE DIED.”
“But I didn’t. I’m fine!” Wei Ying says hotly, something odd stinging his eyes now. His heart feels like it’s being squeezed and cut into, all at once.
He needs to get out of here and leave, and it’s only these wires that are keeping him prisoner to Lan Wangji’s tirade.
“I’ve always been fine. Jiang Cheng, he…He was just a kid. I…This doesn’t matter.Just give me a few weeks and I’ll be back on—”
“…Back?” Lan Wangji stops in his tracks. Madness is gleaming from his eyes now, angry and desperate. “You won’t be back. No, I refuse, not when your spine is fractured and you traded so many parts of you away like it was worth less than copper. You’ll die if you go out there. You want to put that on me? I won’t let you.”
“Let me?” Wei Ying demands. “You’re acting like I’m going to break the second I step onto the track. I’m fine. I’ve been racing for the past thirteen years without fancy equipment, and I’m. Still. Fine. So just let me race.”
“No.” Lan Wangji shakes his head, incredulous at the thought that he would even entertain such a notion.
“Just let me!” Wei Wuxian demands again.
Instead of responding, Lan Wangji only places his old post-op photos on the bed.
“As of today, your contract is being terminated early. You’ll find your paycheck in the mail. Any questions can go to our email. Don’t—If you need anything, text me.” Lan Wangji swallows.
“You know what I need?” Wei Wuxian shouts at Lan Wangji’s retreating back. “I need to keep racing! I need to get back down there and watch my nephew’s back! I need to—”
“All of those are wants,” Lan Wangji’s voice is low now. “And though I have never taken you for a cruel man, I am willing to start today.”
The words take him aback long enough for Lan Wangji to slip out of the room, thoroughly distracted and completely missing the golden package at the door, patterned with the faint outlines of lotuses.
“Wei Wuxian,” Jin Guangyao smiles, just as smarmy as he was when he first saw the racer that could have been a living legend. Who still could. “We meet again. I’m so sorry to hear about your…”
“My injuries?” Wei Wuxian suggested.
Jin Guangyao winced and nodded. The neon lights behind him lit the shadows of his face up in a faint sunset orange.
The sun was nearing the cityscape, a veritable jungle of building blocks and trees. Its final rays were barely clinging onto life when Wei Wuxian spoke.
“I’m fine, really. Did Lan Zhan tell you, or…” Wei Wuxian trailed off upon seeing the switch in Jin Guangyao’s face.
Something was off here. It was almost like he could see guilt in Jin Guangyao’s eyes upon his mention of the Lans.
“Well, let’s cut to the chase.” Jin Guangyao said smoothly. “Without you there, Gusu hasn’t been winning the races they need. The board’s clamoring for their sale now, and I’m honestly inclined to agree. All this stress isn’t good for Xichen, and I’m certain it’s not good for Wangji as well.”
Like Wei Wuxian was meant to care about how stressed Lan Zhan was, when he clearly didn’t respect his ability to handle things and patronised him in an attempt to seem morally superior.
He had always pulled shit like this. He’d just come in without a word and pull Wei Wuxian out of the fray like a disobedient stray, expecting him to not say anything against it.
Lan Zhan may have been his best friend once, but he was not his parent. He didn’t have the right to do that, to pull him away from racing, the one thing that kept his hand from pulling the trigger.
Wei Wuxian was a grown man. If he wanted to drink until the pain went away and then some, if he wanted to race and gamble, all of that was his choice.
Pretty shit choices, but they only affected him. Wei Wuxian had never, and would never hurt anyone else with them, despite what Lan Wangji’s cold gaze seemed to convey.
“What do you want me to do about it? I got kicked out. It’s not like me knowing changes anything.” If Wei Wuxian’s voice turned a tad hurt towards the end, that was between him and the ground he laid his eyes towards.
At this, Jin Guangyao smiled. The neon lights seemed to brighten when he did, and the harshness of the orange made his eyes glow as he spoke next.
“The board’s been thinking,” Jin Guangyao murmured quietly. “And it’s clear that the team only really picked up again when you were there. We’re ready to offer you a consultant job with us. Help us bring your nephew’s team to glory, fulfill your dreams of a winning Formula 1 team.”
“…What?” Wei Wuxian stared, nothing but shock in his eyes.
Jin Guangyao took it as a signal to continue and marched on. “It’d be highly paid as well, there’s no need to worry.”
Highly paid. Jin. Us. Your nephew.
Oh, fuck.
“You can tell your dickhead of a father to go fuck himself.” Wei Wuxian snarled, already headed to leave. “I hope Lan Zhan and his brother know what a snake they have in the grass.”
“My father?” Jin Guangyao paused. “I haven’t been in contact with him for years, and…”
“Cut the crap.” Wei Wuxian said flatly. “I don’t know, nor do I give a single fuck what you think of me, but I know this. If you continue with this shit, you’re going to hurt Lan Xichen, and worse than that, you’re going to hurt this family. He won’t forgive you. Not for this.”
“…”
Wei Wuxian finally clambered into Suibian and started driving himself away from the site. The sky was dark now, and it was only muscle memory and the faint light of a rare streetlight that kept him from crashing Suibian.
It was only when he had to make a turn and looked at his side-view mirror that he saw Jin Guangyao, still standing where he had last seen him.
Wei Wuxian doesn’t even know what he’s doing right now. The map in front of him has been annotated so much he can barely recognise the paths, and there really isn’t anywhere he needs to go anymore.
He could always wander. That was what he had been doing for the past decade, and it wasn’t a bad life when you knew what you were doing.
There was a race somewhere in—
“Room for two more?” A soft, familiar voice threads through the background noise of the cafe he’s sitting in.
Wei Wuxian freezes and looks up at Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng.
“…Hi.” He says dumbly. He doesn’t really know what’s happening right now. “I…”
“Move over, dumbass.” Jiang Cheng spits.
On sheer reflex, Wei Ying moves. It’s only when Jiang Cheng scooches on the same bench as him and Jiang Yanli sits on the opposite side of their booth that he swallows and tries to leave, like he’s done for the past thirteen years when he’s seen them.
Jiang Cheng blocks his path without a word.
“Sit there and let A-Jie talk. If you try to leave again, I’ll break your legs.” Jiang Cheng threatens. The look in his eyes is so serious Wei Ying stops moving immediately and braces himself.
He can take whatever vitriol they spit out. In the worst case scenario, he can even take their pity and their kindness.
“A-Ying.” Two sounds and Wei Ying crumbles.
This is why he never got even close to his sister, not once.
“…Hi, A-Jie.” Wei Ying whispers. There’s tears forming behind his face now, the burn coming up quick behind his eyes and forming a blockage in his throat. “I’m sorry.”
“You’ve taken good care of A-Ling.” His sister smiles. Wei Ying doesn’t deserve it, but he relishes it nonetheless. “Zixuan’s long recovered. And I know you were staying away because you thought it would help, even if it didn’t. Why do you need to say sorry?”
The worst part is that she’s genuinely serious here, even if Jiang Cheng is gritting his teeth next to him.
Wei Ying honestly doesn't know how he’s stayed silent for so long. His patience certainly hasn’t gotten better with how many video compilations there are of him screaming at his competition.
“…I’m sorry.” Wei Ying repeats helplessly.
Finally, Jiang Cheng rips his head from the table and looks over at him. There’s glass around his eyes and thorns around his hair.
“Why didn’t you just ask me? I would have said no. You know I would have said no.” Jiang Cheng’s voice is the quietest Wei Ying’s ever heard him.
Suddenly, it’s not a stranger in front of him, but the baby brother Wei Ying used to tease until he cried. There’s baby fat around his cheeks and wobbly eyes and Wei Ying can’t take it.
“You know.” Wei Ying notes.
Jiang Cheng just stares at him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jiang Cheng asks. There’s something of helplessness in the way he swallows.
There’s no anger now. Just a bone-deep sadness that cuts to the core.
Their sister is staring too.
Everyone is.
Wei Ying gives up. He—he can’t lie anymore. All of his untruths have been used up, and he can’t keep running forever.
His legs are tired. He’s tired. He’s really, really, really tired.
“Because I knew you’d stop me,” Wei Ying finally admits. “And I didn’t want you to.”
He’s always been a hypocrite. What he did to Jiang Cheng—giving him his life and running away—was cruel, and they all knew it.
He shouldn’t have done it, he knows that much. It was exerting control where he didn’t have it. It was lying to his family and playing God.
And Lan Zhan did the same to him, and it was only then that Wei Ying realised how bad he hurt Jiang Cheng. Maybe he knew then, maybe he knew recently.
But that doesn’t matter, really. Wei Ying would do it all over again if he had to, even if it meant a fifty/fifty chance of never racing again.
Because Jiang Cheng would have let his career die rather than cause Wei Ying such pain. In the end, Sandy Shengshou came back home after countless seasons and wins, but he came home to an empty home.
Isn’t that crueler?
A cruel man, Lan Zhan had said.
“I’m sorry.” Wei Ying looks at the ceiling light and waits for them to talk first.
“Then I’m sorry too.” Jiang Yanli looks pointedly at Jiang Cheng, who mutters the same thing through gritted teeth. Still, it sounds oddly sincere.
Wei Ying stares incredulously at them. “For what? You didn’t even do anything?”
“Exactly that.” Jiang Yanli points out. “It’s because we didn’t do anything. We asked if you could return, we tried to get you back on the team, but…”
“I know.”
The simple admittance took Jiang Cheng aback. “Fuck you mean, you know?”
Wei Wuxian threw himself back into a childhood routine and grinned. “You’re not very subtle. I mean, it really did have you stamped all over it.”
“Fuck you too!” Jiang Cheng said hotly. “See if I ever do anything nice for you again.”
Jiang Yanli doesn’t move, a complicated look in her eyes as she watches them bicker. It’s like they’re thirteen, fourteen, and sixteen all over again.
“A-Ying,” Jiang Yanli starts, hiding her smile when Wei Ying drops his jokes and stares at her expectantly. “A-Ling doesn’t admit it, but he misses you.”
He took after his father, really. There were parts of her in there though, shining through whenever he casually mentioned Wei Ying to them and asked about his whereabouts.
Jin Ling was the reason they found him.
“I’ll swing by whenever. I’m sure he’ll land a nice job wherever he goes, he’s a talented kid.” Wei Ying watches Jiang Yanli’s face twist and feels something in his stomach turn as well. “What?”
“It’s just…A-Ling’s been doing so well in Gusu, and he needs more friends. You’ve been a good influence on him, actually. But I don’t know if he can stay in Formula 1 for much longer.” Jiang Yanli murmurs.
Wei Ying’s afraid of asking why now.
“Zixuan’s not all that popular with his side of the family now. His brother’s been slowly taking over, and even though he’s always been good to A-Ling, I don’t know if they’ll take him. I mean, they have their own rookies, like that—What’s his name, A-Cheng—”
“Xue Chengmei.” Jiang Cheng chimes in.
“Ah, thank you. I think it might be good for him too. He’s getting too reckless now, and I don’t want anything bad to happen to him.”
Wei Ying wants to speak up in Jin Ling’s defense, but words are failing him now. He can see it so clearly: Jin Ling’s car flipping in the air and someone having to drag him out by his broken shoulder, blood on the floor and metal dripping from the broken frame.
His sister notices it. She notices everything now, it seems.
“I heard Lan Wangji fired you because of your injuries.” His sister says. “I don’t blame him, of course. If I were him, I’d do the same. He really does still lo—hold you in high esteem, doesn’t he?”
Jiang Cheng coughs and directs her back onto the right path. Blushing mildly, Jiang Yanli clears her throat and continues. “But that’s not the point. Your paycheck hasn’t come yet, right? A-Ling’s hasn’t either.”
Realisation dawns on Wei Ying.
“I wouldn’t bring this up if I didn’t think you wanted to go as well.” She says wryly. “And even now, I’m still not sure if I messed everything up. But I’m willing to gamble. Are you?”
Wei Ying is banned from fifty casinos around the globe. There’s a set of carved dice in his pocket now. There was never another answer, he realises.
There’s only a path and the question of where he’s willing to run.
Lan Zhan looks tired is the first thought that comes. Jin Guangyao was right about that, at least, Wei Ying’s mind supplies.
The second is the way his eyes are red and circled like pandas, in a way no amount of ice water can change.
The third is the notebook in his hands, his spot held open by a lotus bookmark.
“Hi, Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying’s bag plops down on the floor. “I finally came back without being dragged, now would you look at that?”
Jin Ling curses and follows him down the path, speeding past his competitors who twist in an attempt to overtake him.
His tires are fucked. He follows orders and directs his car to the station, leaving Wei Wuxian to finish the job.
Fuck. Wei Wuxian breathes the pain out and lets it dissipate. If his doctor sees this, she might actually kill him.
He can’t focus on anything but the stage in front of him. His hands move on their own accord, pushing and pushing until there’s an end in sight.
They tell him to keep pushing.
Lights are blurring beside him. Lanling’s somewhere behind him, and Yunmeng not far behind. Qinghe is somewhere over there.
He keeps pushing.
The pain in his shoulders grows ever present, until he can feel every little bump on the road like it’s hell come alive, grinding against his joints with sharp jabs of discomfort.
He keeps pushing.
The end is right there.
Five. His hands tighten on the wheel.
Four. Breathe in.
Three. Breathe out.
Two. He’s so close he can taste it.
One. Is it going to be taken away at the last possible moment again? Is he going to have to suffer the indignity of fate?
And he’s past. And—and he’s done it.
He’s won.
He won.
“And after thirteen years, Wei Wuxian finally takes home that championship! I’m sure he’s very proud now, and it looks like his fans agree. Congratulations—”
Everything else is a blur now. Someone takes his belt off, or maybe that’s his own arm? His helmet is nowhere to be found. Wind is blowing on his face.
And there he is.
“LAN ZHAN!” Wei Ying screams. The sound reaches the intended recipient, even from what seems like a million yards away. “I WON!”
Wei Ying blinks, and Lan Zhan’s already in front of him.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying repeats, a little breathy now. He’s been out of breath for the past hour, but it’s only now catching up to him. “Did you—did you see it?”
“I never took my eyes off the camera.” Lan Zhan smiles. Off you, he wants to add.
He doesn’t, like every time he thinks about something that could clue Wei Ying in. But somehow, this time, something’s different.
“Lan Zhan.”
Lan Zhan gets it too. Wei Ying always knew he would.
“And now—What the—Is that real?! Wei Wuxian and the coach of Gusu Lan, ex-Formula One driver, are k—” The booth cuts off suddenly and is replaced with static. Maybe that’s in Wei Ying’s head too.
He doesn’t know right now, he’s a bit busy at the moment and it’s almost like there’s cotton in his ears.
Lan Zhan is cool to the touch, and it feels great against his blazing skin. He’s dipping down until he can feel wind currents from the vents.
If this was heaven, Wei Ying might just cut off gambling and drinking for the rest of his life to repent.
“I’ve always—” Lan Zhan cuts him off with his mouth, looking at him with dark eyes that spell out his reply.
I know. Me too.
Wei Ying gasps for breath and dives back in.
“Gross!” Jin Ling shrieks. He cowers behind Lan Sizhui, whose face is scrunched up. “Go get a room! I don’t—Who wants to see that shit, huh?!”
Moment officially broken.
“Alright, alright.” Wei Ying’s lips feel bruised. They’re probably purple now. “We’ll get out of your hair.”
“Lan Zhan, are you sure?” Wei Ying asks for the millionth time.
“Mn.” Somehow, Lan Zhan still doesn’t sound annoyed, only fond.
“But are you really sure? I mean, this is your family legacy.” Wei Ying swallows back his instinctive guilt at that and waits for an answer.
Lan Zhan looks at him, really looks at him. “Wei Ying. I’ve told you this many times. My brother can handle matters, and I have enough vacation days to take the next three years off. It’s alright.”
“…But are you really sure?”
“Yes.” Lan Zhan replies again.
Wei Ying sighs. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you! No take backs, or I might really cry.”
“I would never make you cry.” Lan Zhan’s hand curls around his waist, warm and all-encompassing.
A grin forms on Wei Ying’s face. Suibian starts as soon as he clicks the keys in his hand, and soon they’re off, contractless wanderers.
Who said life in a van couldn’t be luxurious, huh? Wei Ying thinks to himself as he watches Lan Zhan drive without even thinking about the controls.
He didn’t even have to gamble to win the jackpot—but that reminds him. He rarely ever looks at the dice in his pocket, but they’re there all the same.
They’ve always been there, and no amount of ignorance can erase that.
Wei Ying fishes them out and sees two rabbits staring at him, one pale and one dark, their eyes gleaming in the dark.
Life’s going to be good from now on. They’ll make sure of it.