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Chapter Text

Lan Zhan surveys the crowds, the thousands of people gathered under one roof tonight for the final concert of the Burial Mounds. The cheers are thunderous, shaking the ground beneath him and then the usual clapping starts, a stamping of feet raucously requesting their signature encore.

He hasn't played for the band these past few years, letting SiZhui take over from him, both in the lead guitar and the lyrics, the singing that Wei Ying used to do. It's so painful to think about the man he's missing, has missed for each and every single day of these past thirteen years. Now Lan Zhan’s role is more of an unofficial manager rather than the hands on position the group needed him to be, back at the start of their success.

He and Wei Ying had such dreams, high hopes that swung between the stars, a life on the road playing from venue to venue, just like this. Just like tonight.

But here he is, so painfully alone and missing the other half of his soul.

The stage is dark, but not for much longer. 

Wen Qing, their pianist and quick-fingered keyboard player, Wen Ning, the quietly unassuming kick-ass drummer, and Uncle Four, a nickname he's never been able to shake, all need a break, even if it's only a fast five minute deal. SiZhui, their lead singer and guitar player, will bring them back as soon as possible, after a change of clothes and rehydration. He's been introducing his friends to play sometimes, and Wen Qing says that's good; the more kids joining up means they can retire that much faster. The Burial Mounds is an institution now, built on the success of brilliant song writing and punch-to-the-gut melodies intended to stay in the minds of their listeners.

Excitement thrums under his skin. Lan Zhan can see the shining dark irises of hundreds of eyes all diligently staring at the stage, willing the band to come back that much faster.

He turns then, glad of his anonymity still. The newer fans don't even know who he is; that's why Lan Zhan can pretty much go wherever he likes without being recognised. He's been thirsty all day, and yet one thing after another stopped him going to the bar just outside the seating area to pick up the two bottles of the Cloud Recesses mineral water. 

This tradition is one deeply rooted inside his heart and he never ever fails to do it. One bottle for himself and one bottle for Wei Ying. It doesn't matter that half of  these bottles aren't drunk. They always end up on Lan Zhan’s bedside table, every night being the last thing he sees before going to sleep, after every single concert. Without fail. Today has just been unusually busy for him, but he thinks he can make a quick trip before the band gets back. His favourite place to watch his son is always from the sidelines.

But Lan Zhan has lingered too long.

The deafening roar of thousands of fans erupts and the brilliant lights blaze from the stage. 

If he moves, people will notice him. The stewards and bouncers all around him wait, noticing his lanyard with his ID, and they leave him be.

SiZhui's voice rings out, loud and clear, full of anxious excitement. 

“Hey everyone, thank you for waiting for us! You have to know by now, we love you, our fans! You guys are INCREDIBLE!” He draws it out, grinning at the sea people who are shouting back at him in encouragement. “And since this is our last night before we take a break, we thought it would be fitting to set a different tone for the last song. See, some of you may not be familiar with how our band started, all those years ago.” 

Lan Zhan sees SiZhui turn slightly to glance at his aunt, Wen Qing, who gives him a quick nod. He catches Wen Ning's eyes and receives a thumbs up. He checks the wing where Lan Zhan would normally be, and he masks his surprise at his father's absence remarkably well, turning back towards the crowd.

What are they going to do? This isn't normal, Lan Zhan thinks, the first stirrings of panic humming in his veins. This is definitely straying from the set list.

“I was going through some old notebooks at our house,” SiZhui continues, totally unaware of the chilling sweat that has Lan Zhan fixed in place, a few hundred  feet away. “And I found a forgotten song. My dad wrote it for my other dad, and I remember them singing me to sleep with this one, when I was just a kid. I have two dads, one of them is with me, but my other dad, he went missing thirteen years ago. I just–” his voice cracks, and it breaks Lan Zhan’s heart. He knows exactly which song SiZhui wants to share. SiZhui clears his throat and continues, even though everyone can see this is an emotional moment for him. “I just want him to know, both of them, that no matter where you are, I love you. I will always miss you.”

Their son, who belongs equally to Wei Ying and Lan Zhan, begins playing the song that Lan Zhan never wrote down the title for. Only his heart knows the name of this one.

Lan Zhan closes his eyes and remembers the vibrant boy, the stealer of his heart, a red ribboned prodigy with lightning fast fingers and a formidable talent for being able to play any song, anywhere, any time.

Wei Ying, he thinks desperately, where are you?

*****************

Mo XuanYu had arrived a few minutes late tonight, and the stadium was just beginning to fill up with crazy fans. 

“Ha ha!” Steve shouts at him, as soon as he sees him. “I got here before you! You get to hug the speakers tonight!” He's a steward, just like Mo XuanYu, but it's an unspoken rule that latecomers lose all position privileges.

Mo XuanYu grins at him, giving him finger guns. “Makes no difference to me, Pal. I actually prefer it!” And whistling as he walks away, he goes to claim his spot by the stage.

He got this job by sheer luck, his roommate getting him in with management, and because he prefers late nights, it works out excellently for him. It's best to keep busy, otherwise the headaches start, and that's a surefire way to pass out. Those bills won't pay themselves, and so Mo XuanYu knows better than anyone else not to spend time thinking.

Tonight is going to be fun, he thinks. It's the last night this band is going to play here, and there's a bittersweet feeling in the air. They'll come back in another year with a new album and new songs, and maybe it'll be the same, but for now it's nice to enjoy the camaraderie between the stage hands and the stadium staff as they work together to put on the show. There's always a familiar kinship between those that work behind the scenes to help the band, a unity of shared experiences that brings everyone together every night. 

A microphone drops by his foot and Mo XuanYu picks it up, handing it back to the stagehand who shyly thanks him. His silver grey eyes look familiar, but he bows and walks away quickly, and Mo XuanYu sees him blending in with the other crew members with his black uniform t-shirt and trousers, and the cap pulled low over his face. People come and go in the industry and it's hard to keep track of them.

Mo XuanYu knows that when he gets to leave after all the doors are locked and the venue is empty of spectators and cleaning staff at last, he will be able to walk down to the hotpot place and get a cheap dinner sitting around folks in the music business. He's always enjoyed their stories, about crazy fans and the lengths they will go to, to meet their idols. He hopes nothing too outrageous happens tonight - the lead singer of this band is just a kid, albeit a sweet one, and he's got his fair share of groupies. Mo XuanYu has a lot of experience of having to physically remove the too enthusiastic ones after they've crossed lines not meant to be.

The entire show goes ahead without a hitch, and Mo XuanYu is surprised because by now, at least one person would have had to be escorted out, either for heat exhaustion, because it gets really hot among the swathe of bodies jumping up and down, and people are never well enough prepared for that, or for overstepping the tiny barriers meant to keep them back from the stage.

The lights come on just before the last act, and Mo XuanYu blinks fast, letting his eyes adjust to the sudden brightness. Someone starts a fan chant and then he grins at the contagious excitement that rips through the crowd. They begin screaming and stamping their feet, in the hopes of their cacophony reaching their beloved band and enticing them out that much faster.

A man dressed the same as the crew walks past Mo XuanYu, and there's something annoyingly familiar about him. Maybe it's the way he's walking, tall and full of confidence, or…no, what was that smell? Is it a perfume? Aftershave?

It reminds Mo XuanYu of temples and incense and things that should not be remembered. His head starts to pound, and goosebumps break out all over his bare arms. He got a tattoo once, when he must have been drunk, because even he cannot recall why it's a white ribbon tied around his wrist with pale blue clouds swirling on the centrepiece. 

Someone must be smoking outside because the smell of tobacco drifts in towards him as the stranger pauses, looking up and all around them. He's so close to Mo XuanYu, and then, the lights go out before he can think too much. But his headache doesn't go away.

Only about twenty more minutes, Mo XuanYu tells himself, and he knows it's a lie. But he also knows that once the pounding in his head starts, it'll only get worse and he just has to hang on for a bit longer before he can escape. 

The lead singer comes onto the stage and the crowd goes wild for it, only quieting down when he starts speaking to them.

“Hey everyone, thank you for waiting for us! You have to know by now, we love you, our fans! You guys are INCREDIBLE!” He draws it out at the end, grinning at the sea people who are shouting back at him in encouragement. “And since this is our last night before we take a break, we thought it would be fitting to set a different tone for the last song. See, some of you may not be familiar with how our band started, all those years ago.” 

Mo XuanYu glances up at the huge screens on either side of the massive stage production, in awe of this kid who doesn't look more than eighteen years old, but he sounds so confident while he's talking to this many people. It must help that he knows they're his fans but still, the pressure to not let them down must be immense. He reminds Mo XuanYu of the guy that walked past him a few moments ago. But whoever he was, he belongs here according to his lanyard, and Mo XuanYu tries to focus on what's going on around him. It's not too late for something unexpected to still happen, and he must be vigilant. 

The headache digs in, pulsing at his temple. Before the night is out, it's going to shift right behind his eyes, and he can already feel that this one's going to be a bitch. He feels around in his pocket but, oh god, he's forgotten his heavy duty painkillers. He can see them in his mind's eye, on the shelf next to his keys. Mo XuanYu grabbed one of the things and left the other, and then it was too late to go back and think about whatever he forgot to bring with him.

He's regretting it now though.

“I was going through some old notebooks at our house,” the lead singer  continues, “And I found a forgotten song. My dad wrote it for my other dad, and I remember them singing me to sleep with this one, when I was just a kid. I have two dads. One of them is with me, but my other dad, he went missing thirteen years ago. I just–” his voice cracks, but he tries again after clearing his throat, even though everyone can see this is an emotional moment for him. “I just want him to know, both of them, that no matter where you are, I love you. I will always miss you.”

The notes ring out, haunting and crystal clear. Each one pierces Mo XuanYu right in his heart and he staggers back, clutching his head. Why?? Why does this hurt so much? 

He can see intense golden eyes staring back at him, even when his own eyes close fast, trying to block out the pain. The melody wakes something in his head and he cries out, the noise drowned out by the song. It surrounds him, enveloping his body and he can't get away from the images in his head as his temples throb and blood pumps faster from his heart.

A little silver-eyed boy runs towards him, shouting, “Xian-Gege, Xian-Gege! I love you,” and then his own voice shouting out full of joy, “A-Yuan, come here!  A-Yuan, I love you, too!”

Mo XuanYu stumbles back, head reeling, bent over in excruciating pain. He's seeing stars bursting in his head, and another voice telling him sincerely, “Wei Ying, I love you.”

His back hits a solid wall of muscle and strong arms steady him, grabbing one of his wrists.

Mo XuanYu blinks up painfully, staring into brilliant golden eyes looking back at him in shock. His head aches so much now that the intense pounding pierces his consciousness, making his vision dark around the edges.

“Wei Ying??!”

It's the last thing he hears before the blessed darkness takes him away.

****************

A/N

Oh my God, I'm screaming!! In my head!! I literally thought of this in the morning, in the early hours of it and I had to get up right away to start writing. I've always wanted to write an amnesia au but I couldn't think of an original way to do it, and I was tired of reading Wei Ying waking up in hospital without a clue of who he is. And then this happened!! So here we are!

I'm so excited for the next bit!

See you soon, and reading wise, I'm on Book 2.

All my love,

Charlie

🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫

Chapter Text

He's got so many questions. Lan Zhan stares back at this face, older now than he remembers, but still belongs to his beloved Wei Ying. 

As the song comes to an end, the pin-drop silence before the ecstatic screams of the crowd jolts Lan Zhan into action. He picks Wei Ying up, cradling him close to his chest, and he begins moving towards the doors that lead to the Green Room. There's still a while before the band comes back, but he needs to get Wei Ying somewhere quiet where he can be examined. He knows something is wrong. 

Luckily, Lan Zhan catches the eye of a stagehand. 

“Get a paramedic. Green Room,” he tells her urgently as she nods, immediately running off to do that.

It hadn't gone unnoticed, the way Wei Ying’s face had clenched in pain, how his eyes, usually so bright with amusement, were confused instead. 

Or how he hadn't recognised Lan Zhan at all.

Worry worms its way into Lan Zhan’s heart as he enters the back passage behind the stage. The sound of the concert is muffled though he recognises that the band is announcing one last song before they say good night. That's a relief, because this situation is simply too huge to fit adequately in his mind, and Lan Zhan should be forgiven for needing a moment to himself. 

He uses his back to push open the door, helped by the security guard who holds it so Lan Zhan can enter safely. As it shuts behind him, Lan Zhan goes to the ratty couch hugging the wall and lays down his precious cargo. He checks that Wei Ying is still breathing and then he checks his temperature, making sure that outwardly at least, nothing is wrong.

But his mind can't get past one word: how?

How is this Wei Ying, here and now, with him? How is he dressed in the uniform of the stewards who regularly monitor the venue and have been doing it for the past ten days? Has Wei Ying been right here, under his nose so to speak, within reach all this time? What the fuck is going on??

Lan Zhan starts pacing, every few seconds pausing to make sure that it's really Wei Ying lying there. He hasn't moved at all, and just when Lan Zhan is considering going to look for the paramedics himself, the door opens and the green uniforms walk in, carrying cases of equipment. He watches as they move into fast action. There are three of them, two treating Wei Ying as they take his blood pressure and general condition, while the third interrogates Lan Zhan about the patient. 

Lan Zhan reports exactly what happened, making sure to add that Wei Ying looked to be in pain before he passed out.

The senior of the three stands up after a while, signing off on an online form. “We think it's better if he's admitted into hospital just to be safe. There might be internal injuries that need attention which can be overlooked if nothing is out of the ordinary on the outside.”

“I'm coming with him,” Lan Zhan tells him, fishing out his phone.

The next few minutes are spent with the paramedics organising transport to the waiting ambulance outside while Lan Zhan messages the group. He does not hide the truth of it, but he does try to soften the trauma of the situation, once the others find out. They'll be too shocked to attend their own farewell celebratory party tonight, but they'd be more upset with Lan Zhan if he wasn't forthcoming about finding Wei Ying in the first place. 

He's tense as the ambulance leaves the stadium grounds. Lan Zhan tells himself that there's no use speculating what might have happened to Wei Ying during these past thirteen years. Only Wei Ying will be able to say. He must be content that Wei Ying is healthy, and even if it's only on the outside, that he looks okay.

Once they reach the hospital, Wei Ying is whisked away to have tests done, leaving an anxious Lan Zhan pacing in a waiting room. Thankfully, it's in a quieter part of the emergency department, and nobody recognises him. People filter out until at last, he's on his own just waiting.

A good forty-five minutes later, the band arrives. SiZhui, Wen Qing and Wen Ning, Uncle Four with another young lady following a few feet behind them, a stranger to Lan Zhan. He watches her march to the reception even while he's reaching for his son. He hugs SiZhui hard, needing this contact with his family as he trembles.

“What happened? Where is he?” Wen Qing barks.

Lan Zhan reluctantly steps away from his son but his attention is divided between her and the mysterious woman by the desk. He motions towards the stranger.

“Just a moment, I believe that person is important. Forgive me for making you all wait,” he apologises, and goes over to the reception desk. 

“My friend is here,” the woman says, wringing her wrists and looking around anxiously. 

“Name?”

“Mo XuanYu. He's, uh, he's a steward. At the stadium. Same as me,” she points to her own uniform and the logo that matches what Wei Ying was wearing.

“Miss, I'm afraid it's only the family that will be allowed to see him,” the receptionist cautions her, typing away on her computer. “He's just gone in for more tests, so it'll be a while before I can give you an update.”

“But he doesn't have any fa–”

Lan Zhan calmly smiles at both of them and pulls this unfamiliar woman away. “Excuse us a moment,” he says, bringing the person with him towards the band. When they're out of earshot, he lets go of her, bowing apologetically. “I didn't mean to interrupt but if we say you are family, like us, they will let us meet with Wei Ying. I am trying to help you.” He adds that because she looks like she's  seconds away from walloping him.

“Who are you?” She demands, before her gaze lands on the rest of the band. “Oh, my God! Why are you here?” She's recognised them all.

“We should probably talk,” Lan Zhan replies at the same time that Wen Qing, spitting fire from her eyes, hisses at her, “We could ask you the same thing! Why are you calling Wei Ying by a different name?”

“That's his name!” She protests, pulling out a wallet with Mo XuanYu's identification inside it. 

Lan Zhan takes it from her, examining the photo of Wei Ying. It's definitely him. It's as if his thirst from earlier has returned but it's laser focused on Wei Ying. He wants to know everything about the man, from the smallest insignificant details to the big stuff. He wants to know what Wei Ying likes to eat in the morning and if he still prefers Emperor's Smile over all other alcoholic drinks. If he still douses his dishes in chilli oil. If that man on the other side of the section is still his Wei Ying. 

Wen Qing, always a stickler for authentication, grabs the ID and checks it thoroughly. She nods at Lan Zhan before giving it back.

“Who are you to Mo XuanYu?” the woman asks, frowning at them.

“We're his family. Wei Ying’s, not Mo XuanYu.” Wen Ning steps forward.

“Excuse me while I have, like, a moment,” she gapes at them. “All of this, it's kind of surreal. I mean, I just saw you guys performing at the stadium, and now you're here. Like, I can touch you–” she raises a hand as if she's actually going to touch SiZhui, and immediately Wen Qing and Lan Zhan are up in her face about it, creating a human barrier. SiZhui is pulled back by Uncle Four, who keeps a protective arm around his shoulders. 

“So how do you know Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan demands. He's not used to feeling so jittery about this. Waiting for news about Wei Ying’s condition is driving him up the wall, and this person with their insistence about calling him by another name is upsetting him. Nothing makes sense. 

“I see one of us has to be more forthcoming, otherwise we're gonna be going round and round in circles. I'm his roommate. Luo QingYang, but he insists on calling me Mianmian.” She grimaces at them. “My colleagues told me he collapsed, but do you know what happened to him?”

Lan Zhan quickly fills her in, and because everyone hears what he has to say, he knows he won't have to repeat himself. But he does turn to Wen Qing at the end of his explanation. “Qing-Jie, he didn't recognise me. That's what I don't understand.”

“You are a hundred percent sure he is your Wei Ying, then?” Luo QingYang asks him.

Lan Zhan studies her. There's something different in the way she's asking that question.  “Mn. I would know him anywhere. I am sure.”

“Then can you please do me a favour?” She lowers her voice and steps closer to both of them when Lan Zhan gives her a curt nod. “I can't risk making a phone call so I have to leave. I'll be back, but I need to talk to someone first. In the meantime, can you refrain from calling him anything other than Mo XuanYu? This is very important.”

“Why?” Wen Qing demands, narrowing her eyes at Luo QingYang. 

“I know we've just met, but you have to trust me. Once I get the okay, I'll tell you everything I can. But you must know, as long as he is Mo XuanYu, he's safe.”

“You have my word,” Lan Zhan promises her, ignoring Wen Qing spluttering beside him.

“Thank you. I'll be back as soon as I can.” Luo QingYang gives Lan Zhan a grateful smile and presses a card into his palm. “Call me if anything changes.”

“Mn.”

Wen Qing explodes as soon as she leaves. “What the fucking hell, Lan WangJi?? Are you out of your goddamn mind? Why the fuck are you making promises to a stranger? You don't know her! Fucking Fuckety Fuck!”

Lan Zhan yanks her into the female toilets, uncaring of the fact that he shouldn't be there at all. But there's nowhere else private enough for them to talk, and he sincerely hopes that the receptionist won't call security on them. He makes sure all the stalls are empty while Wen Qing taps her scary stiletto clad toe on the tiled floor, still fuming. But she's quick-witted enough to know that Lan Zhan has a reason.

When he's thoroughly satisfied that they're alone, Lan Zhan faces Wen Qing. “I think he's in Witness Protection.” He waits for that to sink in.

“Fuck!” Wen Qing starts pacing. “You think this has something to do with my uncle, right?”

“That was the last place Wei Ying was seen. Nightless City Corporation. It's the only thing I can think of. Why he must have stayed away from us.” Lan Zhan breathes out slowly, unclenching his fists. It feels good finally saying it out loud, even if they have to keep everything a secret still.

“That makes sense. A-Ying could never stay apart from you, even if me and A-Ning were a second thought. And A-Yuan. He must've thought he was keeping us safe by keeping away. Or his handlers must've told him that. But A-Zhan, my uncle and his no good sons were locked up twelve years ago after an anonymous tip off.”

“Mn?”

“Well, if they're rotting in prison, why the fuck is A-Ying still in hiding?”

*******************

More questions than answers, Lan Zhan thinks, as he tries to explain his theories to SiZhui, Wen Ning and Uncle Four. They're huddled as far away from the receptionist as possible, trying to talk things out quietly without raising suspicion. 

Worryingly, A-Yuan, SiZhui hasn't said anything at all. Lan Zhan knows this is a big shock to him, and maybe he's trying to process everything at once.

“SiZhui, why did you play that song?” He knows he doesn't have to clarify which one. It was the only one played that didn't feature on the original set list. 

“I was telling the truth on stage,” SiZhui says, unconsciously pouting. 

It's such a Wei Ying coded gesture that it causes a lump to form in Lan Zhan’s throat. He gently strokes SiZhui's hair, remembering when he was so much younger, just a toddler back then.

“I was looking through some of Dad's old notebooks, the ones you both shared. It reminded me of him. When I was a kid.” SiZhui blinks back tears. “Do you think–” he pauses to regain control of himself. “Was he happy these past few years? Did he think about us?”

“I don't know.” Lan Zhan can't be anything except honest.

Wen Qing scowls at him. “Of course that idiot thought about you. All of us, but especially you. And you can ask him yourself when he wakes up.” She pats SiZhui's head affectionately. 

No one says anything after that. They all take turns either sitting down or stretching their legs, and then Wen Ning takes SiZhui to the vending machine and they come back with water and snacks for everyone. When Lan Zhan sees the bottle of water, it's the hardest thing not to cry. It's the same brand that Wei Ying likes. Liked. 

Before this whole mess happened. 

He stares at the round clock hanging up high on the opposite wall, the only source of colour in a sea of white nothingness. The hands barely move between his glances.

******************

Three hours later, Luo QingYang storms in followed by five men with masks, all dressed in black and clearly armed. She looks pleased, which by itself, is concerning. One of the men draws the receptionist away, and then there's a suspicious thud behind the door leading to the other sections away from the main area.

Once they're alone, Luo QingYang addresses the band.

“I got permission. But we can't talk here, it's not safe. I'm taking you to a secure location.”

“I'm not leaving him,” Lan Zhan replies, planting his feet. He does not care, this is non-negotiable.

“Relax, he's coming with us. There are things we need to discuss and this is not the place to do it.” She gestures towards the doors. “When you walk out of here, you must do it like normal, as if you don't want to be recognised. My people are out there waiting to escort you to the minibus.” 

Even while she's speaking, all the uniformed men have disappeared past the closed door. Not even two minutes later, the same men come back carrying a stretcher between four of them. Lan Zhan recognises Wei Ying only because he's on the lookout for him, but all of them including Wei Ying are dressed differently from when they entered the other side. 

Wei Ying has a hospital gown on and an oxygen mask hiding his features, and they've covered part of him with a red hospital issued blanket, while the men carrying him are disguised as ordinary paramedics. But they are the same men who accompanied Luo QingYang not even five minutes ago wearing all black.

So this is happening, then.

It's such a strange situation and Lan Zhan can tell that his side of people are so curious about who Luo QingYang really is, because it's obvious from her sudden change in behaviour and confidence that she's exuding, that she's not a simple steward working a low paid job. Also, the band is quite gossipy by nature except Lan Zhan, and maybe that's why nobody is asking questions yet.

The band follows the paramedics outside where it's still in the early hours of the morning so hardly anyone is around. The emergency bays have two ambulances and the minibus Luo QingYang mentioned is parked there, waiting for them. The windows are tinted dark enough that they can't see inside.

“All of you in there, Mo XuanYu will follow us in the ambulance.” Luo QingYang says, quietly in charge.

“I'm staying with Wei–Mo XuanYu,” Lan Zhan replies, uncaring about what she thinks.

“But–” Luo QingYang protests.

“Let it go,” Wen Qing tells her, striding towards the minibus. The doors open automatically with a swoosh. “He's just found him. He won't let him out of his sight now. Might as well get used to it,” and she disappears inside as the others follow her in. 

Lan Zhan waits until Wei Ying’s gurney is secured inside, then with his long legs it's a small stretch for him to follow. Three disguised paramedics enter behind him while two close the doors of the ambulance and move around to the front. Moments later, the entire vehicle shudders into life with a grumbling engine, and then they're off.

Lan Zhan’s movements are restricted by his seat belt, but he leans forward anyway and reaches under the blanket to hold Wei Ying’s hand. It's cool to the touch, and he thinks Wen Qing was right; now that he has found Wei Ying, he's never going to let him go again, not if it's up to him.

*****************

Fifty minutes later, the ambulance slows down and its sluggish jolting motion wakes Lan Zhan from a helpless nap. Technically, he hasn't slept all night and his exhaustion is catching up to him. Gone are the days when he used to go to sleep by nine o'clock at night, and Wei Ying would tease him about it relentlessly. The band's performance schedule put an end to that routine ages ago, but if he could be honest, then it was Wei Ying’s disappearance which began the change in his routine. 

The heavy doors swing open and it's a team effort to bring Wei Ying out of the ambulance. A white dawn is breaking up above them, colourless clouds drifting across an ice blue expansive sky. Away in the distance, saffron threads streak over an empty canvas, ready to paint the coming day.

Lan Zhan looks around and sees that they're parked up in a field with a solitary barn, a huge building that looks capable of housing hundreds of cows…or horses or something. The minibus is right there, and the rest of the band are climbing out of its dark depths.

Luo QingYang is fast talking into a state-of-the-art walkie talkie, motioning them to follow her inside. Wen Qing catches up to Lan Zhan and she keeps her voice low.

“My signal cut out ten minutes ago. Same for everyone. This is a comms black hole,” she warns. 

Lan Zhan checks his watch only to see the black screen of death - tapping it is useless.

They enter a security zone. There's a body scan, retina scans and X-ray machines to endure before they reach a conference room. That's when Luo QingYang hands her walkie talkie over to an assistant and looks Lan Zhan dead in the eye.

“Okay, for real, no nonsense this time. Wei WuXian is going for some medical tests. He will remain in the building but you can't go with him. It would be a colossal waste of time, and that's a luxury we can't afford right now. Besides, I want you to talk to one of our doctors. Please just cooperate with us. You have my word that you will be reunited with Wei WuXian in a couple of hours. Pinky swear,” she adds, without smiling. She wiggles her left pinky finger at Lan Zhan. 

Lan Zhan looks to Wen Qing for guidance. Out of everyone here, she knows him the best.

When she nods, he reluctantly agrees. Luo QingYang's shoulders droop in relief and it shows she was expecting a fight.

“Thank you. I wouldn't separate you unless it was necessary.” She takes a deep breath and enters, while Lan Zhan remains at the back of their group, watching to see where Wei Ying is being taken. 

When he goes out of sight, only then does Lan Zhan follow everyone else inside. There's a row of chairs before an empty wall, and Luo QingYang invites them all to be seated.

“I bet you all are dying to ask me questions, and once I'm done explaining everything to you, you'll see why we had to take such precautions. Even now, I can't guarantee anyone's safety, but this is the best we can do. Now, are you ready?”

Chapter Text

TRIGGER WARNING: the briefest mention of suicide and it's Jin Guangshan (spoiler alert).

***************

Is he ready? 

Lan Zhan stiffens when Wen Qing grabs his hand, staring straight ahead. Then he notices that they're all sitting in a line, Uncle Four at the far end, Wen Ning next to him, SiZhui in between him and Qing-Jie, and then himself. They're all holding hands and no one is ready. But they haven't had a chance to talk in private ever since Luo QingYang turned up, and Lan Zhan sincerely hopes they will. Brainstorming has always been their thing, often finding a way out of whatever difficulties presented themselves like that. The band isn't just a band. They're family and they stick together, even if they all miss the man who brought them together. 

“By now, you've probably guessed that I'm not really a steward. That's my cover, working for the security company, but I'm with an elite force that cannot be named for obvious reasons. There's so much to tell you, so maybe let's start at the beginning.” Luo QingYang taps her watch and a projector somewhere begins whirring, lighting up the wall behind her.

There's a timeline and names listed, some familiar to Lan Zhan and others unknown. 

“Thirteen years ago, Nightless City Corporation began trading in earnest. Before that, Wen Ruohan had his dirty fingers in several illegal pies but we couldn't prove anything. His security was tighter than a high risk prison and no one in his inner circle could be enticed to snitch on him. Any witnesses died before the cases left the police department, before they went anywhere near a court.

“Things came to a head when Wen Ruohan’s sons got involved with heavy-handed media management. They knew up-and-coming bands and solo artists were desperate to become the next big thing, so they started hunting the most promising acts. Their contracts were full of shit, making the artists sign up for next to nothing just to get a leg up in the industry, for unreasonable amounts of time. They developed a bad reputation but Wen Ruohan threw money at the problem and any complaints, by using his teams of lawyers so nothing changed.

“I was working for the Jin Conglomerate at the time, not with my present employer. Thirteen years ago, a meeting was held in the Nightless City Corporation tower, a secret one where Wen Chao promised to present a fantastic contract that Wei WuXian would be allowed to look over before signing. The only requirement was that he come alone, and that he could speak for the entire Burial Mounds group.”

Wen Qing glances at Lan Zhan, her lips tightly pressed together to form a thin line. She's trying so hard not to say anything about this.

“No one knows exactly what happened that night. But we know that the Jin Conglomerate was involved somehow. The meeting went awry, something happened and it's only recently we found this USB that has footage of what we suspect might have occurred." Luo QingYang taps her phone again. The room grows dark and a video begins playing.

The images are grainy but it's easy to spot Wei Ying. Lan Zhan leans closer as if he will understand the content of the missing years by whatever he's going to see now. Perhaps this video can explain Wei Ying’s disappearance and what happened to him, all that time ago. He holds his breath, unable to even blink in case he might miss something vital.

Wei Ying enters the room with a confident swagger, facing off against the others in the room by projecting a nonchalant, cheeky vibe as if he's not bothered at all.

It's a darkly decorated conference room, but unlike the one they're in right now. 

All the furniture, the carpet and the walls are black with red highlights, and the massive table that sits in the centre along with the twenty odd chairs are also black but with red LED lights in a thin stripe at the edge. The sound cuts out as soon as Wei Ying walks in. 

“We think whoever was in control meant to cut the feed to the cameras in the  security station, but they only managed to disable the audio feed instead.” Luo QingYang tells them.

Wen Chao, a face Lan Zhan recognises from the volume of bad press he got during his trial, steps forward and shakes Wei Ying’s hand, along with another man that he doesn't know the identity of. Luo QingYang pauses the video. 

“Wen Chao, a familiar face I'm sure, but some of you might not know the other man. His name is Zhao Zhuliu, adopted son of Wen Ruohan. Also known as the Spectre. Allegedly known for solving problems for the Wens by making them go away.” She's watching the band, and her eyes remain on Wen Qing. “We can watch it again, I'm just giving you all context. Also, I should add that if anything you see reminds you of something, no matter how insignificant you think it is, please tell us. The smallest details might lead to solving what happens next.” Luo QingYang continues with the video after everyone nods obediently. 

Whatever they're discussing takes a few minutes, and Lan Zhan studies Wei Ying, unable to look away. He's the same man. The same one who vanished that evening, never to be seen again until last night. He ignores the burning strain in his eyes that have been unable to rest, not even taking the time to rub the grittiness away. He doesn't want to miss a thing.

Wei Ying might look as if he's in control, but his obvious stress of the situation is apparent in the rigidity across his shoulders, in the tense twist of his smile as he watches the other men there. He's leaning back in the chair, a cocky smirk on his lips.

Wen Chao pushes a pen and a contract towards him.

Wei Ying doesn’t immediately look at it. He's saying something to Wen Chao, one hand flat on the table while the other one clenches into a fist and flexes outwards. Lan Zhan can't immediately say why that small action bothers him. Wei Ying finally drags the papers towards him, and then he throws back his head and laughs out loud before shoving it back towards Wen Chao.

Things suddenly escalate from there.

Wei Ying stands up as if he's leaving, but then someone shoves him from behind. More words are exchanged and to Lan Zhan, it's extremely frustrating not to know what they're saying. He has no idea what is happening, but then to his utmost horror, a bat is swung, hitting Wei Ying on the back of his head. He falls to the ground, clearly unconscious. Lan Zhan wrenches his hand away from Wen Qing and is already standing up, ready to fight.

But of course, his enemy isn't here.

Luo QingYang stops the video and the lights come on.

The band erupts with loud protests, and Lan Zhan looks back towards four agitated and disturbed individuals with different levels of trauma. They are all shocked by what they've seen. Their expressions reflect pain, anger and indignation. 

Luo QingYang holds a hand up to quieten them down.

“I know how that must have made you feel, I get it. But now we're going to watch that again, and I'm going to point out a few things. Please sit down, Lan WangJi.” Her voice is serious, full of authority. “This has already happened, and I know it's tough to see, but please bear with it.”

Wen Qing pulls Lan Zhan down so that he's sitting. Luo QingYang rewinds the footage to begin playing again from the moment Wei Ying sits down.

“Pay attention to his hand,” she directs them. “That action? It’s Morse code for S-O-S but in sign language. A few decades ago, the practice became popular as a way for people in trouble to signal that they needed help without alerting those about to hurt them. Just Wei WuXian flexing his fingers could've meant nothing, but do you see the way he paused, like he stopped himself from looking at the camera? And then he deliberately closes his hand in a fist followed by flexing his fingers again in a joint action. You can Google it if it seems unbelievable.” She lets the video play more and pauses it again, just before Wei WuXian stands up to leave. “Look here, that's a sleeve. We think a third person was in the room aside from Wen Chao and Zhao Zhuliu, waiting for Wei WuXian.” 

“Who?” Wen Ning asks her. The normally quiet guy speaking out like this means he's upset, enough to do something about it. 

“That's what we don't know. Our experts have analysed and combed through this video multiple times, and we have suspects, but that's the trouble. Just the colour of the golden sleeve points to multiple persons of interest. It must be someone important and what I wouldn't give to hear what they're actually saying!” Luo QingYang shakes her head in resignation as she turns the lights on again. 

But all of that is by-the-by for Lan Zhan. 

“What happened to Wei Ying after that?” He knows he sounds cold and detached but it's the only way he can cope with this. Punching something hard, like Wen Chao’s stupid face, sounds like a fantastic idea right now. How dare they touch Wei Ying? How dare they hurt him so bad?

“Okay, that part, I can help with. A little,” Luo QingYang admits. “I mentioned that I worked for the Jin Conglomerate, right? Well, I don't know how Wei WuXian managed it, and we're missing the step from the Nightless City building to Koi Tower, but that's where he found Mo XuanYu's ID on the floor and picked it up, assuming it was his own. You see, when those thugs hit his head, they struck a part of his head that caused damage to the part of the brain that retains memories. Wei WuXian remembers nothing of his time as the Wei Ying you knew him as. As far as he's concerned, he is Mo XuanYu. He gets flashes of memories now and then, scenes which he's been part of in the past, but nothing concrete or long lasting yet. He suffers from painful migraines as a result of his injury though.” She tosses the tiny pill bottle from her pocket towards Lan Zhan. “These are heavily concentrated pain killers. Our local pharmacy has taken pity on Mo XuanYu and gives him refills without expensive doctor's prescriptions. But he hates taking them. They make him drowsy and the feeling lasts longer than he's comfortable with.”

Lan Zhan catches the small container and reads the name, along with the list of ingredients. 

The door opens and a man dressed in a white coat enters. He bows towards Luo QingYang first before doing the same to everyone else.

“How is he?” Luo QingYang asks him. “This is Doctor Chan FengLi.” She quickly introduces him to everyone.

“Brain activity has settled down, so he's no longer in as much pain. Of course, only he is able to determine the degree of it, but otherwise all of his vitals appear normal. He's still unconscious.” 

Doctor Chan FengLi seems like a good-natured person, a little on the plump side and with a friendly personality, though he delivers his diagnosis with professionalism. 

“That's a relief,” Luo QingYang admits, her shoulders sagging. “Thank you, Doctor.” 

It's a dismissal, but Lan Zhan has questions.

“Wait, Doctor, please.” He clears his throat uncomfortably. “Do Wei Ying’s migraines happen frequently? How do we mitigate the amount he suffers because of them? And are they a direct result of his injuries?”

Doctor Chan FengLi considers his words carefully. 

“The frequency of his headaches is a question for Luo QingYang to answer, since she is in regular contact with Wei WuXian more than anyone else. As for the cure you are referring to, to lessen his pain, we've found that patients respond better to the pain by minimizing exposure to strong lights whenever they have a migraine. Less screen activity, darkening the room, lying down and perhaps listening to soothing music might also help them. But his amnesia is a different matter. If he tries to force his brain to remember before it is ready, that could cause complications as well as triggering his headaches. Healing takes time whether we like it or not.” He turns towards Luo QingYang. “How often does he get an attack?”

“At least a few times a week. Sometimes, there are triggers.”

“Understandable,” the doctor replies at the same time as Lan Zhan asks her, “What kind of triggers?”

“It can be certain smells, or a familiar thing from his life as Wei WuXian. It's unpredictable, that much I can swear to. It's like his brain wants him to remember, like it knows something is wrong and it's throwing memory projectiles at him in the hope that he'll figure things out.” Luo QingYang gestures for the doctor to leave, which he does. When he's gone, she lowers her voice. “I think either the episodes are becoming longer or he's trying to make sense of them.”

“You understand, we're not going to just trust you with all this,” Wen Qing says, frowning at her. “Who exactly do you work for?”

“I can't tell you that,” Luo QingYang explains calmly, sounding far more reasonable than any of this situation deserves. “But I will point out that I could've pretended not to know anything back in the hospital. I could have left you all there without explaining a thing, but I decided to trust you all with this. That should count towards some measure of trust in return, no?”

“What's changed?” Lan Zhan demands. He remembers Wen Qing's question and catches her eyes. “Wen Ruohan and his sons are incarcerated. Why did you suddenly decide to be so forthcoming?” Then another thought occurs to him. “Is Wei Ying in danger?”

Wen Qing goes stock still next to him.

“We're not sure,” Luo QingYang holds her hands up as the band protests, asking for quiet. “I told you I would tell you everything as much as I'm able to, and I stand by that. The timing of this is incredible though, because I reckon if you were still in the middle of your tour, you might have had to cancel the rest of your shows, and that would have raised questions. What do you all do when you take a break?”

“Why are you asking us that now?” Uncle Four asks, looking rightfully worried. 

“Things are changing and it's a sudden escalation. My boss has concerns that the third man, whoever was in that room when Wei WuXian was attacked, is going to make a move that will make him untouchable. The only thing that we've got is an eye witness account but it's buried under a fog of amnesia and the problem is, Wei WuXian might never recover those memories. Or even if he does, it might be too late. I know the doc said recovery takes time and we can't rush anything, but time is the one thing we don't have.” Luo QingYang sounds deadly serious. 

“You would have reached out to us anyway,” Lan Zhan figures it out, voicing his thoughts.

Wen Qing grabs a chair and flips it around so that she's able to straddle it, hugging the back of it to her chest. “You better start talking.”

Lan Zhan grabs another chair and sits next to her, and then in a single movement, the rest of the band joins them in a semi-circle facing Luo QingYang. It's a silent accusation as well as a signal to her that they're all together in whatever this is.

Luo QingYang shrugs but her eyes are calculating. “Yes, to be honest, contacting you was always part of the plan. I just decided to jump a few steps ahead seeing as everything happened by itself. The chance meeting at the hospital and your infallible insistence that Mo XuanYu was–is Wei WuXian.”

“Why did you wait for so long? Thirteen years?” Wen Qing rightfully sounds sceptical of her.

“Okay, I see how it looks to you. You only have a missing band member to think about, but trust me, there was so much happening, there's STILL so much happening behind the scenes.” Luo QingYang shakes her head ruefully. “I'll try and simplify it.”

“Thanks for implying that we're too stupid to handle it,” Wen Qing replies scornfully. “Good job,” she adds.

“That's not what I meant, but okay, you do you,” Luo QingYang snarks back, equally intense. 

“Listen, we're all tired, let's be cool.” SiZhui, as always, makes Lan Zhan proud.

Everyone takes a few breaths.

“Alright, I apologise for making it sound like you wouldn't understand. What I meant was there's too much to go into detail. We are talking about over twelve years of highly illegal wrongdoings, by several individuals with no compunction towards the law, or just, you know, being decent individuals.” She rolls her eyes.

Her words startle a laugh out of Wen Qing, and the tension eases in the room by a few degrees.

“See, you all were just starting out when the proverbial shit hit the fan, so to speak. Wei WuXian wasn't famous enough for anyone other than you, his fellow band members, to care if he went missing. A flash in the pan, here today, gone tomorrow.” Luo QingYang adds quickly, “I'm talking about general public opinion, not me.” 

That makes them quiet.

“I'll try to wrap this up as fast as I can, because I think we could all do with a hot meal and a bed, okay?” She waits for them to agree. “Back then, Jin Guangshan was the CEO of the Jin Conglomerate. Up until recently, we thought he and Wen Ruohan were just acquaintances, but now we're finding out that Wen Ruohan was the mastermind behind his crimes but also he was being funded by the Jins. His idea was to become so powerful that taking over the music industry in its entirety was just a blip in his plans - he had political ambitions that made everything he had done up until his arrest look like child's play in comparison. 

“It took us six years to gather enough evidence against Jin Guangshan to start proceedings for a criminal case, and then he was so overcome with guilt that it made him jump from the roof of Koi Tower to his death. Now between you and me, and remember, I had the unfortunate experience of dealing with the man, I can tell you with complete confidence that he never, ever would have committed suicide.”

“You think someone helped him?” Lan Zhan guesses.

Luo QingYang snorts in a most unladylike way. “Yep, you could say that. The power struggles in the Jin ranks are a whole soap opera by themselves. What's important is that our three main suspects for the identity of the third man in the Nightless City meeting are in prime positions of power. Jin ZiXun, who was pally-pally with Wen Chao but wasted no time at all in providing key evidence to convict him, Su Minshan, aid to Jin Guangyao who is the legitimate son of Jin Guangshan, and therefore influential, and the latter, who used to be known as Meng Yao. Personally, I think Su Minshan is happy where he's at, but the other two are always at odds, especially after the suspicious circumstances surrounding the actual heir, Jin ZiXuan’s, disappearance.”

“But how come everyone was okay with Wei WuXian pretending to be Mo XuanYu?” Wen Qing asks her.

“Oh, that's easy. The real Mo XuanYu, and I should add, illegitimate son of Jin Guangshan, and before you say it, yes, another one, was a bit loopy. They all said he was a bit funny in the head after a knock to the head, so that part matched up. But his mother was quite beautiful with silver eyes, and Mo XuanYu inherited those. His features also resemble Wei WuXian's, oh, I can prove it.” Luo QingYang pulls out Mo XuanYu's ID again and hands it over to Wen Qing. “See? Look at his bone structure, his nose. And of course, his eyes.” 

Lan Zhan pulls out Wei Ying’s ID from his own wallet and then leans into Wen Qing’s space and tries to see what they're seeing. To him, Wei Ying is Wei Ying - there is not a single universe where he wouldn't know him, regardless of his body. There are definite differences…but unfortunately, Luo QingYang is right; there are an equal number of similarities, too. She has pinpointed the obvious ones being their almost identical bone structure and their noses, and yes, obviously their eyes. But they both sported the same hairstyles at the time.

“What the fuck?” Wen Qing says, staring at him in disbelief. “You've been carrying that around all this time?”

Lan Zhan looks around at all the incredulous faces. All except SiZhui, who looks like he might cry because he's the only one who understands why Lan Zhan has it.

It's the only piece of Wei Ying that Lan Zhan can carry with him.

He coughs in embarrassment. “Wei Ying didn't like carrying it around. He gave it to me for safe keeping.” And he will do it until Wei Ying asks for it back.

Wen Qing has gone all soft about that and she squeezes his hand quietly supportive.

“I knew I wasn't wrong to trust you,” Luo QingYang whispers gleefully, and they all ignore her.

“Alright, I can buy it,” Wen Qing finally says, handing Mo XuanYu's ID back after scrutinising the picture.

Lan Zhan tucks away Wei Ying’s ID where it belongs, back inside his wallet and then places it in his shirt pocket right over his heart.

“I know it sounds wild, but I'll give you some context. See, Mo XuanYu was always going to be a target. As long as he was alive, he posed a threat to those who believed in heritage claims, and the truth is, if he had taken the Jins to court, Mo XuanYu stood a good chance to take them to the cleaners. At the time, with Jin ZiXuan still present and very much alive, Jin Guangyao, and Jin ZiXun all being legitimate heirs, the Jin Conglomerate would have been divided into quarters, if something happened to the patriarch, Jin Guangshan. Looking back now, it's easy to see that somebody was systematically removing their competition, one by one. 

“That night, when I found Wei WuXian, injured and fully believing he was Mo XuanYu, I think someone had tried and succeeded to kill him, the actual Mo XuanYu, I mean. But because he looked so much like Wei WuXian, whoever dumped Wei WuXian's body in the basement of Koi Tower thought Mo XuanYu was him, and vice versa. That's the only reason why no one's come after Wei WuXian again. It's because like him, they believe he's Mo XuanYu, when the real one died thirteen years ago. Whoever killed Wei WuXian believes he's dead, and because nothing has surfaced during all this time, they think they're safe.”

“But what about the one who actually killed Mo XuanYu?” Lan Zhan asks her. 

“Yeah, why haven't they tried to do it again? He's obviously alive!” Wen Qing points out, incredulously. 

Luo QingYang shrugs. “I really don't know, except to say that maybe they had to change their minds. Maybe they watched him for a while and decided that he didn't pose a threat any more? The real Mo XuanYu was known as a lunatic, and he blamed everything on his injury. This one, Wei WuXian as Mo XuanYu, well, is he so different?”

“Wen Ruohan and his sons got arrested a couple of days after Wei Ying went missing…” Lan Zhan thinks out loud, speculating. “Even though it took almost a year to convict them. Could it be that whoever believed they had killed Mo XuanYu was too busy backstabbing the Wens to try again? Would that have brought them unwanted attention at a crucial time?”

“Quite possibly, and we'll ask them when they're arrested.” Luo QingYang stands up.

“Wait a second, I'm not done,” Wen Qing snaps, her patience ebbing away.

“Alright, alright, chill.” Luo QingYang sits back down, but she stretches up instead, making her spine crack.

“Why were you lurking around in the basement of Koi Tower? And what did you do after finding Wei WuXian?”

Wen Qing sounds mean and Lan Zhan is forever glad that she's on their side. She would make a formidable opponent and a truly awful enemy if one were foolish enough to instigate that. Her inherent sharpness is getting them answers and he's not complaining. They need this.

They all need this.

“Okay, first off, I wasn't in the basement at all. I found Wei WuXian stumbling up the stairs from it, and like any decent person, saw he was hurt and needed help and took him to hospital to get treated. At that time, I was already considering leaving my job because of the insane rumours and strange goings on, but while Wei WuXian was being treated, a person approached me. That's all I'm going to say about them, because I quit the Jins and started working for them instead and I love my current job too much to jeopardise it.” Luo QingYang stares back at Wen Qing unflinchingly. “My new boss said it was best if both Wei WuXian, well, as far as I knew, Mo XuanYu, and I got as far away from the Jins as possible. So we travelled around and then when it was safe, we came to Suzhou.” She shrugs. “They haven't come after us so far, so he was safe until now.”

“When did you know he wasn't Mo XuanYu?” Lan Zhan narrows his eyes at her.

“Straight away. Unlike the others, I actually liked Mo XuanYu and spent enough time with him to know the difference. I didn't know he had died until much later, and it still hasn't been made public. That fact alone is damning proof that whoever wanted Wei WuXian dead thinks they've succeeded, and they may or may not be the same person who wanted Mo XuanYu dead as well. And before you come at me with why I never told any of you where Wei WuXian was, it's because his safety was more important than giving you closure, and you can hate me for that. But we all know that I'm right.”

Lan Zhan looks at his family and sees the same resignation there that he's feeling himself. 

“And now, let's go eat and rest. I'm sure Wei WuXian will have rested enough by then, too, and then we can decide what to do.”

This time, when Luo QingYang leaves the room, they all follow her out one by one.

*************

A/N

I was hoping to have Wei Ying in this one but it was already getting too long!😭 Promise he'll feature in the next one! If you guys have any questions at all, please feel free to voice them!

All my love,

Charlie

🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫

Chapter Text

The attention to detail at dinner is noticeable. Lan Zhan’s meal is vegetarian and on the bland side, noodles in a light broth accompanied by steamed vegetables that are crunchy but cooked well. The others have a selection of meat based dishes with different spice levels, and SiZhui's food is also vegetarian but super spicy. Someone is paying attention to them by knowing their preferences to exacting levels. 

Luo QingYang eats with them, and there's light conversation based on harmless topics, more for lightening the mood than for the transaction of information. They all eat in what could be loosely termed as an officer's mess or dining hall, and while the furniture and the food is of the highest quality, there is something impermanent about it. It's the kind of vibe that would usually be associated with camping gear; easily assembled and used and just as easily packed up and put away-able.

After they've eaten, Luo QingYang leaves them in the hands of a sharply suited young man who escorts them to another section in this building, and it's hard to remember that it's shaped like an innocuous, ordinary barn on the outside. Most likely to prevent any suspicion on what it actually contains and its uses.

The young man stops outside a door guarded by two armed security personnel. 

“This is where you will rest. Inside, the back wall has doors leading to adjacent bathrooms, and night clothes have been arranged for your stay. I hope all of you enjoy a good night's rest and will wake up feeling much better!” He bows and waits for everyone to enter. “If you need anything at all, please feel free to tell your guards and they will be happy to fetch whatever it is for you.”

They go inside and find two rows of eight bunk beds in the centre and they're already made up for sleeping in. Their escort was correct in telling them about the bathrooms, too.

“Alright,” Wen Qing says, once they're alone. “Does everyone want to sleep first or talk first?”

The vote is unanimous for sleeping, so she sets an alarm and everyone gets ready for bed. Tomorrow will no doubt be another long day.

******************

As Luo QingYang walks away from the band members and Lan WangJi, feeling his gaze upon her back, she makes sure she's far away before placing the call to her boss.

“Sir, I've been informed that Mo XuanYu is awake. I'm going to see him now.”

From the other side, there's a few moments of silence that she's come to expect from the quiet man. In her opinion, he's brilliant. A strategist that knows the inner workings of his enemies, and his friends. That's what makes him stand out from all the rest - he never lets his guard down. It's a trait that has served him well, seeing as he's fighting a secret war with a nest of vipers.

“Have the others been notified?”

“No. They're tired. Logical thinking won't happen and if you want to pull this off successfully, then everyone must remain calm.”

“Good.”

“But Sir, I'm going to tell him everything now.”

“Are you sure that's the best way? What if he has another episode?”

“I can go slowly. Have the doctor on standby.” This is probably the first time she's making an independent decision but she knows it's the right thing to do. “From here on out, I'm going to do what is in his best interests only. I hope you understand that.”

Unexpectedly, there's a faint chuckle on the other side.

“In the coming days, he's going to need all the friends he can get. Do what you have to. I will start turning the screws on our other problem.”

The line clicks to an end and she reaches the medical bay. Luckily, Doctor Chan FengLi is just leaving, so she stops him.

“Doctor, I'm asking if you can remain close by,” she looks at her smart watch, “for a couple of hours? Just in case.”

He nods but he's not happy about it. “It's dangerous to push him.”

“And that's exactly what I'm not going to do. But he's an adult, he's also my friend, and we're going to walk this path together. All I need from you is support, and your medical expertise should things take a nosedive. I'm well aware of the risks, but I'm not going to treat him as if he's incapable of making his own decisions. It's time he learned the truth.” Shoulders back, head held high, Luo QingYang enters Wei WuXian's room.

******************

Mo XuanYu wakes up in a strange bed, in a strange room, hooked up to an IV feed and dressed in a hospital robe. He's not too cold and the blanket is soft and warm on his body. Thankfully, the echoes of pain recede as his eyes blink and adjust to the light. 

He's not alone and for a few minutes, he watches the unfamiliar doctor making notes on a clipboard that he hangs at the foot of his bed before looking up with a pleasant smile.

“Where am I?” Mo XuanYu asks him, his throat sore.

“Are you thirsty?” The doctor asks him instead, and when he nods, the doctor brings a sippy cup for him, pressing a button to raise the top half of the bed so Mo XuanYu can drink easily. “Small sips to begin with,” the doctor advises.

Mo XuanYu decides that he likes him. He's kind of chubby which is comforting though he can't explain why. It's like walking past a restaurant and seeing it full to bursting; seeing a health professional whose metabolism isn't up to scratch makes him seem more human as opposed to a perfect example of how to live. His round face is pleasant and smiling, and Mo XuanYu feels comforted anyway.

“Do you know if Mianmian–I mean, Luo QingYang is here?” He asks, after the doctor takes the cup back.

“I will go and fetch her,” the doctor replies, and he leaves.

Mo XuanYu hears muffled voices outside and hopes one of them is his best friend. Mianmian is tough on the outside but he has no doubts that she can kick-ass like a Kung Fu master just with her attitude. He trusts her because she was the first person he met after waking up in Koi Tower and she got him to a hospital. They spent time travelling from town to city, and while he got the impression that she was constantly looking over her proverbial shoulder, she stuck it out with him. Then she got him a job, and if all of that wasn't enough to buy her his undying friendship then he doesn't know what would.

His smile when she walks in is huge. “Mianmian!”

Luo QingYang comes to stand beside him, pulling him into a side hug. Mo XuanYu can already tell something's off though.

“A-Yu, how are you feeling? Any pain?” She flicks his forehead, and he grins back at her.

“Nope, which is weird, right? I definitely had a migraine…” Mo XuanYu thinks back as the last memory floods into his mind. “I was at the stadium– hey, do you think they're gonna fire me? I just kinda left, I guess, even though the concert was nearly done.”

“A-Yu,” she pauses as if thinking about what she wants to say.

“Mianmian,” Mo XuanYu whines, not liking this more serious version of his friend. He wants her to be normal. They usually have a great time together and she always indulges him like his big sister–There's a twinge at the side of his head, and years of Pavlovian behaviour make him stop thinking about siblings. It's probably not important anyway. “Mianmian! Can we go out for spicy noodles? I'm hungry!” It's a way to distract her but even as he says the words, his stomach rumbles and he realises how much it is true.

“Alright, let me sort out some food for you, but then we have to talk, okay?”

Mo XuanYu nods reluctantly, ignoring the way his belly flips inside. She sounds serious and he's a hundred percent sure that he's not going to like what she's going to say.

Mercifully, Mianmian waits until he finishes eating. She hands the tray to someone outside and pulls up a chair to sit by him.

“What about dessert?” Mo XuanYu quickly begs, trying to delay what's to come. His sixth sense is screaming at him now.

But Mianmian, ever prepared for him and his antics, pulls out a Snickers Ice cream bar. It's melted a little, just the way he likes it because then the caramel is soft and gooey. He chews slowly, procrastinating, and she sighs because she can see through all his tricks.

“You know, I hope you can forgive me,” she says, after he finishes eating. She takes the brown wrapper away from his fingers and chucks it in the bin by the door.

“I can't forgive you if I don't know what you've done,” he replies uneasily, unable to look away.

“Alright, let's make this about somebody else. That way, you get a choice. If you don't want to believe me, we can go with that. But if you choose to pick what I'm telling you as the truth, then you'll see why I've done what I've done, and I'm genuinely hoping you don't end up hating me.” She takes his hand and threads their fingers together. 

“Mianmian…I'm scared.”

“So am I.” This is so hard for her. 

Mo XuanYu can see how difficult it is, her wonderfully expressive eyes a little wild and wet with turmoil. But above all, he wants to make this easier for her. 

“We've gone through a lot together, right?” He says that softly. 

She nods, and the tears that were threatening the confines of her eyes finally spill over. With his free hand, Mo XuanYu wipes under them using his thumb. What he has to say is important and he wants to get the words out before his opinion of her changes. The thing is, he isn't sure it will change, but from the way her hand trembles in his, he can tell how she's terrified of that.

“And so I'm gonna go out on a limb and say thank you. I know it wasn't easy, I was there and we had some good times and some laughter too–”

“Kool and The Gang? Really?” She giggles. “I can't believe you're quoting Celebration lyrics right now.” She sniffs as he starts to sing. This is their song. It's just the chorus but they sing it together, quietly. 

“There's a party going on right here,

A celebration to last throughout the years

So bring your good times and your laughter too

We gon' celebrate your party with you, come on now

Celebration,

Let's all celebrate and have a good time

Celebration

We gon' celebrate and have a good time.”

Mianmian gets up to wash her face in the tiny basin by the door. She pulls a few paper towels from the dispenser and wipes under her eyes, the smile gradually fading from her lips. When she comes back, Mo XuanYu pulls her onto the bed and hugs her tight.

“We've been through too much shit to let it come between us. Now spill. Give me the tea. Give it to me straight, no sugar, no honey.” Mo XuanYu is determined not to let go of her. “I'm serious.”

“Hello, Serious, I'm Mianmian.” She says that automatically, and then they both chuckle. They're being silly, but no one knows her like Mo XuanYu does and if this is what they need to cope then it's okay. 

“You can do it,” Mo XuanYu gives her the last bit of a pep talk.

“Don't interrupt me, okay?”

“I won't.”

“No overly dramatic responses, either!”

“We'll see. I dunno what you're trying to sell me yet!” Mo XuanYu rubs her back in what he hopes is a soothing gesture. “You're procrastinating.”

“You did it too. But okay, here goes.” Luo QingYang gives herself a few moments of deep breathing, and then she goes for it. “Thirteen years ago, there was a young man called Wei WuXian, birth name Wei Ying. He had dreams of being in a rock band, writing songs and performing to the public, but in order to do that, his band would have to sign with a major music company. He knew he wouldn't be taken seriously unless he had an online following and in the meantime, he needed to show his future backers that he and his band had talent. What he didn't have was a band.”

“What did he do?” Mo XuanYu likes this. It's like listening to a bedtime story. 

“He told his family and they didn't take it well. They abandoned him, told him he was no longer welcome there. Luckily, he had some savings and it was the last year of his scholarship in uni, but he had great friends. He met a brother and sister, and when they learned what happened to him, they decided to join up and form a band. The brother could play the drums really well, the sister was great on a keyboard and they had an uncle who had a fantastic sense of rhythm so they got him to be the percussion guy. Wei WuXian also had a best friend, his roommate, Lan WangJi. At this point, I'm going to make you drink some water and tell you to be honest with me.” Luo QingYang leans back, staring into his eyes. “If you start feeling unwell or overwhelmed, please tell me. Promise?”

Mo XuanYu nods and accepts the water. He's feeling alright, great, even. “No headaches yet,” he confirms.

He sits cross-legged on the bed after that, inviting Luo QingYang to do the same. Their knees touch and she grabs his hand again before continuing.

“The band started busking at train stations and at night in public gathering spaces, and they recorded themselves. One day, they got a phone call from the son of a big company. The son ran the music part of it, and he offered a contract to Wei WuXian, but he had to come alone and his signature would be the agreement of the whole band. But Wei WuXian wasn't stupid. He did his research and he was worried, so he told his other friend everything before going to the meeting. His friend was scared too, and made him wear a wire, you know, a listening device, just in case things went downhill. His friend even tried to convince him not to go, but Wei WuXian seemed confident that he would be able to say no and that would be that.

“But what Wei WuXian didn't know was that it was a set up. He walked right into a trap.”

Mo XuanYu shivers unconsciously. Maybe it's better not to think about anything yet.

“We're not sure what exactly happened, but Wei WuXian was attacked by the son's problem solver. They hit him with a baseball bat, injuring his head and knocking him out. When he woke up, he couldn't remember anything but he knew he needed help. He must have dropped his ID on the floor, so he picked it up and got out of there. Luckily, he ran into someone who was able to get him to a hospital. While he was being checked by the doctors, his friend, the one that had told him not to go to the meeting, came to see his new friend, the one who had brought him to the hospital in the first place. This friend said that Mo XuanYu was still in danger unless we did what they said. They gave us cash so it couldn't be traced and made sure we left that night. He even gave us burner phones so we would still be able to contact him, but he said it would be better if we travelled around for a bit, until he was sure we could be safe.” Mianmian squeezes his hand. “With me so far?”

“I know the rest of this story,” Mo XuanYu whispers, and his throat is tight.

“Is it too much for you?”

He thinks about that question, how he's supposed to answer it. Maybe the truth is the easiest way.

“I don't know. It's hard to believe. I'm not saying you're lying,” he says that quickly, so she won't get the wrong idea. “But when I woke up, my ID was right there. Now you're telling me that I'm not Mo XuanYu. I'm someone called Wei WuXian. I can't process that. It feels fake. See, I've spent thirteen years being Mo XuanYu. I can't suddenly switch to Wei WuXian's identity.”

“That might still be a good thing,” Luo QingYang tells him.

“Are you going to tell me more unbelievable stuff?”

She gives him half-hearted finger guns. “That night, someone tried to kill Mo XuanYu, the real one. They succeeded. It was a bizarre coincidence that both of you were taken to the same place, but as a result, because you look like him, whoever wanted Wei WuXian dead thinks he still is and that, my friend, is the only thing keeping you alive. It is a priceless case of mistaken identity. So if it's possible, we need you to keep believing you are Mo XuanYu on the outside for now.”

“More secrets.”

They're quiet as he thinks about everything he's been told. “So you know when I get headaches, you know I see things, right?”

“I knew there were triggers. I thought your mind was trying to fix the holes in your memory. I didn't know you were seeing things, real things that had actually happened.”

“Yeah. I never meant to keep it from you. I didn't really understand it until now because it makes more sense that I'm seeing bits and pieces of something that's happened already, right? Nobody can have this much deja vu!” he laughs, but it's more because he's trying to make light of the situation. For both of them.

“Do you think you can handle something like pictures maybe? Of the people you used to know? I'm asking because, not to put any pressure on you but they're sleeping right now, and they'll want to come and see you in about six hours. That's a rough time table.” She pats his hand sympathetically. “I know it's a lot to ask of you in such a short period of time. But they're here and I don't have it in me to say no. I will, though, if you can't deal with them.” Luo QingYang looks thoughtful. “You know, A-Yu, on my way here, I was thinking about how to tell you everything. And I decided then and there, you are my top priority. I reckon that's the best way to get through any of this with integrity.”

“I have a lot of questions,” Mo XuanYu replies, giving her a small smile. “But I do have a headache now. Not one of those ones, just an information overload one. So…can you show me some of their videos? What were they called, Wei WuXian's band?”

“The Burial Mounds.”

Mo XuanYu gapes at her, jaw dropping as low as it can get. “Fucking hell!”

“Exactly.”

“Any way you can smuggle something stronger than water in here?” he jokes as she pulls out her phone.

“Keep thinking this is all happening to someone else and you'll be fine.”

“Yep, on it like a car bonnet,” Mo XuanYu replies, refusing to think about it at all. But this is the same band that played before he passed out.

“So this is one of their earlier videos, that explains the bad quality,” Luo QingYang says, before she hands over her phone. “But A-Yu, things are serious now. If you even suspect any hint of a migraine, we are stopping. Doctor Chan is nearby but I refuse to take any risks.”

Mo XuanYu snatches the phone out of her unprepared hands, cackling. He presses play on Douyin and immediately the drums begin playing. The person filming on their phone looks like a music fan as opposed to specifically a Burial Mounds fan, because they take lots of close ups of the instruments and in a way, it's a gentler introduction to, well, himself. 

It's so strange to see a carbon copy of himself prancing around in front of other people with a mic in his hands, but even Mo XuanYu can admit that he has a lovely voice. It's different from when their current lead singer sang on stage in front of thousands of fans. Wei WuXian is naturally charming, effortlessly engaging those who stopped by to watch them. He's a flirt, and he probably means nothing by it, because the best celebrities do it like breathing. It's a persona. A mask to hide behind to protect themselves. 

Different…but neither good or bad. 

The lyrics could do with a polish, he thinks, and maybe there should be a slightly longer gap between the last verse and the final chorus just to give the tall, incredibly good-looking guitarist a bit of time to showcase his skills. He's definitely talented, and Mo XuanYu finds himself appreciating the way his long pale fingers pluck at the strings and glide over the stem of his instrument. He's seen him somewhere before…but the person filming doesn't linger on his face long enough for Mo XuanYu to make any kind of connection. He recognises the two siblings, Wen Qing on the cheap synthesiser and Wen Ning on his simple set of drums. Uncle Four isn't featured in this video but…a little kid waddles into the midst of the performers and immediately, as soon as he latches onto Wei WuXian's leg hugging it, a chorus of “awww"s ring out across the spectators. Wei WuXian is incredible with him, picking him up and pretending to sing together and the little guy gets all shy when he realises he's the centre of attention and there are a LOT of people now watching him.

The child wiggles in Wei WuXian's grasp and so he puts him down, and the boy rushes to the guitar player instead, hugging his leg now. It's comical how the tall man suddenly stills and remains that way because he doesn't want the child to get hurt or trip up over the many wires plugged into their mini generator. 

“That child is their current lead singer,” Luo QingYang informs him as the song ends. 

Mo XuanYu presses play once more. 

It's honestly not as bad as he feared. These people are familiar, but not because he knows them on a personal level. They're familiar because he's watched and listened to them, or a slightly different version of them minus himself and Eye-Candy-Guitarist, for the past ten nights. He has walked past blown up picture posters of them, and life sized cardboard cutouts on the way to the stadium grounds. It's like knowing who the latest celebrities are without actually knowing them at all.

That one video is watched a further six times and Mo XuanYu knows he's going to be responsible for the added extra viewing numbers far more than this paltry sum, but his eyes are starting to hurt now and he needs to sleep. Losing consciousness and actually resting are two different things and he's well aware of that.

When the phone barely misses hitting his face, Luo QingYang plucks it out of his grasp and helps him lie down more comfortably. She tucks the blanket around his neck and plants a chaste kiss on his hair, stroking it to soothe him.

“Try not to worry, A-Yu. You don't have to decide anything if you don't want to. Tomorrow's problems are just that, they belong to tomorrow. Rest well, Didi.” She smiles warmly at Mo XuanYu before making her way to the exit. “I'll see you later,” she promises.

“See you later,” he whispers back, and then he's asleep before she even closes the door behind herself. 

********************

A/N

Are you guys excited for tomorrow? And the next chapter? I'm so pumped about this story!!

Got a bit of a busy day tomorrow but fingers crossed I can still update! Next chapter, WangXian will definitely meet up!

Chapter Text

Wen Qing's alarm goes off five hours later. They all freshen up, and then they find labelled bags with designer clothes waiting for them, all in the correct sizes and colour/style preferences of each band member. Another thing to notice about whoever is running this operation. Their attention to detail is unprecedented. 

Once they're presentable, the band picks a bunk to sit on, one sheltered from the ceiling and away from any cameras. Wen Qing types out messages on her phone and encourages them all to do the same; if they're being monitored, this is a way for them all to communicate without giving the game away.

WEN QING: We can't send messages because I bet none of us have a signal, but if we have a typed conversation, there's no way anyone will know what we are talking about.

LAN ZHAN: Agreed. I am not sure how far we can trust Luo QingYang. We don't know who she's working for, and it's best to remain cautious for now.

SIZHUI: I like her, but I get it. When can we go meet dad?

LAN ZHAN: As soon as possible. 

His hands hover over his phone, thumbs anxious to convey more. He wants to see Wei Ying now, like, yesterday. As soon as possible doesn't seem urgent enough. SiZhui sitting next to him, wraps an arm around his waist and leans his head on Lan Zhan’s shoulder. 

He's so much older now than the last time Wei Ying saw him. A toddler, a baby really, to the eighteen year old of now. So much lost time. That's another thing making Lan Zhan angry at Luo QingYang, but at the back of his mind is also the lurking fear that it was more important to keep Wei Ying safe and alive than his own peace of mind about that fact. The truth of it is that there is nobody to blame right in front of him. Luo QingYang would be the obvious target but Lan Zhan knows he can't - she is not responsible for what happened to Wei Ying. That crime and fault lies with Wen Ruohan, Wen Chao and Zhao Zhuliu. If anything, and as much as Lan Zhan hates to admit it, Luo QingYang and her boss have to be thanked for keeping Wei Ying alive.

Wen Qing nudges him with her elbow because he's distracted and not paying attention to the messages.

WEN QING: The real question is how much Wei Ying knows. Have they told him anything about who he really is? But what's seriously bugging me is why now? She said it's because she met us in the hospital, and she implied that she was always going to contact us about him…but can we trust that?

WEN NING: Xian-Gege should know. 

LAN ZHAN: What if it hurts him?

WEN QING: You'll never know unless you try. It's like walking across an iced over pond - gently and with full awareness. If the ice cracks, turn back.

UNCLE FOUR: He can't remain in this no man's land forever. Living between two lives must be extremely confusing and disorienting for him. I can't believe that both of his lives exist separately in his mind. Especially after all this time.

LAN ZHAN: We need to see Wei Ying before we can correctly ascertain his condition. Whether or not he would be willing to spend time with us again. He should be given a choice.

WEN NING: Ms. Luo said his life was in danger and continuing to pretend he's Mo XuanYu is the best thing for now.

WEN QING: Outside our bubble, yes. When it's just us, we can be normal about him.

Lan Zhan sees her fingers tremble as she types, and it reinforces the realisation that this situation is tough for all of them. He knew that already, but seeing the evidence of it brings it home. He might have lost his best friend, his lover, his confidant, his zhiji, but all the people here lost someone dear to them. Wen Qing lost a younger brother, Wen Ning lost an older brother, Uncle Four lost a nephew, and SiZhui lost a father. To think about that makes his vision blur.

There's a knock on the door and Uncle Four goes to open it while everyone else scrambles to separate, to pretend that they weren't doing anything suspicious. 

Luo QingYang arrives, smiling pleasantly at all of them.

“Good afternoon. I'm here to collect you for lunch. Did you sleep well?”

“When can we see Dad?” SiZhui asks and then blushes, stepping behind Lan Zhan when Luo QingYang looks at him.

“That's also something I need to talk to you about.” Her smile falters but she carries on. “I thought I should prepare him to see you. I want to look at this from all angles, including yours, but you should know that if I have to choose, it's going to be him. That part is non-negotiable.”

SiZhui entwines his fingers with Lan Zhan’s. No one says anything straight away, and then Lan Zhan nods at her. He bows first before speaking.

“I believe we must thank you for keeping him alive and safe.”

Luo QingYang bows back, first flustered before she recovers fast and gives him a playful grin. “Trust me, it wasn't easy. He's hard maintenance.” She cackles when they all throw dirty looks at her. “Too soon?”

Lan Zhan ignores her teasing and gets straight to the point. “Did you tell him about us?”

“He knows about you. And bits and pieces about himself in your lives, where he used to fit in. It's tricky though, right? Imagine how hard it is for you to accept that Wei WuXian has another name, that he's used to being called Mo XuanYu, and that he has a whole other life where he's busy living it, and it's totally separate from yours. Well, in that scenario, all of that,” she brings all of her digits together to make a pointer out of her hand and draws an imaginary circle in the air, “is happening to him right now, and he's suddenly got to cope with the information, all of it new, that he is not who he thought he was. He had a whole other life separate from THIS one, and it's so wildly different, so creative, so parallel to the one he has right now. Imagine how hard it is for him to accept it. So in order to make it easier, I told him to imagine that all of this is happening to someone else.” She waits for them to process what she's saying. “We don't want to hurt him any more than necessary, at all if I can help it. The last thing we need is for all of this to trigger another migraine.”

The fact that she tried at all is a huge step in Lan Zhan wanting to trust her. It proves that she's got Wei Ying’s best interests at heart. 

“Does he–Is he willing to meet with us?” Wen Qing asks her.

“Yes. He rested again last night, and so did you, so I'm hoping that we are all going to be patient with each other. I'm not going to lie. This is a delicate situation for everyone involved. But let's not complicate the issue with angry or hurt feelings when that'll be the last thing Wei WuXian wants you to feel. You absolutely must remember that he's Mo XuanYu up here. Not your Wei WuXian.” She taps the side of her own head.

With her words, harsh though they are, it's like she's taking a sledgehammer to Lan Zhan’s heart. His own pain at this horrible scenario, one he never could've imagined happening, is reflected on the faces of all of his family. She's warning them to be gentle. Again, it reinforces in Lan Zhan’s mind that she is a good person, if she's thinking about the impact of their presence on Wei Ying first.

“You don't know us, so I'm going to forgive you for thinking that we're going to go in there with guns blazing,” Wen Qing replies, with a quivering angry brow.

“Gee, thanks for that,” Luo QingYang replies, just as scornfully. “Maybe you missed the part where I said I'm Team Mo XuanYu.”

Wen Qing steps forward angrily, and Lan Zhan has never moved so fast. He steps in front of her and bows. 

“Thank you for reminding us of that, and we will be sure to take your words seriously.”

SiZhui steps past Wen Qing too, to stand next to his Dad. He also bows and hopefully asks, “Can we see him now?”

Luo QingYang softens immediately, and Lan Zhan realises that his son is their secret weapon. SiZhui has always been cute, but what people are never prepared for is his goodness, his unfailing sincerity. He is the best of Wei Ying and himself, and that's a fact. But in truth, the whole band is responsible for the way this beautiful child has turned out.

He turns to address all of them. “When we meet with Mo XuanYu, it is best if we leave any expectations here, behind us. I know it's hard, but we should treat him like he's a stranger for now.”

“Alright, who's hungry?” Luo QingYang calls out, leading them from the room. Apparently, she's decided that's enough talking.

Lan Zhan places a hand on SiZhui's back as they follow her. Behind him, he hears Wen Ning ask his sister, “Jie-Jie, why don't you like Ms. Luo? She's trying to help us. Help everyone.”

“She's so fucking annoying,” he hears Wen Qing reply, and her hesitation is obvious. “So condescending to us, as if she's the only one allowed near A-Xian.”

“Is that really it?” Wen Ning says, “because it sounds like that's not why at all. And as for Ms. Luo, I don't think she's annoying, or being condescending to us at all. I like that she's looking out for Xian-Gege. He's only got her…but we all still have each other. I think manners don't cost money, and there's no excuse to be rude.” 

When Lan Zhan turns his head so he can see them both, he finds Wen Ning walking a little bit faster than his sister, who isn't the most levelheaded person right now, and she's lost in thought. Wen Ning makes eye contact and then he actually winks at Lan Zhan. 

So…maybe something else is going on back there.

But there's no time to dwell on that because they're back at the dining hall and about to go in. They're going to meet Wei Ying. 

Finally, it's happening. 

***************

(TRIGGER WARNING: Panic attack, difficulty breathing) - starts at “How is he related to me?”

*****************

Luo QingYang is all business when Mo XuanYu wakes up. The doctor has already released him from the IV feed and now there's a white plaster covering the shallow wound on his hand. She helps him up and pushes him towards the bathroom, wrinkling her nose and calling him stinky with a fond exasperation when he protests at too early a time.

He feels much better after a hot shower, and okay, he might've spent longer than the cleanliness dictated in there, but it felt nice and comforting. 

The thing is, he is aware of how challenging today is going to be for him. And just thinking about all the questions still buzzing around in his head like a bunch of bees with a smoke machine, makes him feel exhausted before he's even asked any of them.

Being able to change out of the backless and frankly humiliating hospital gown is a godsend, and the clothes she's picked out for him are extra soft and ease his body if not his mind. Nothing stands out in the black super soft cotton t-shirt, or the slightly ripped black jeans, or the scarlet blanket-like cardigan he throws over the whole look, but it certainly helps when Mo XuanYu hugs himself. 

“You're too skinny,” Luo QingYang tells him, bumping into his shoulder playfully.

“You always say that,” he replies, looking around. “Where are we? This doesn't look like a hospital.”

“That's because it's not one. I'll go get the others. We're all going to eat lunch together.” She stops outside a pair of doors. “A-Yu, you can tell me if you've changed your mind. I can make them go away.” She puts her hands on his shoulders and even though she's so much shorter than him, it makes Mo XuanYu feel like he's the smaller one of the two.. 

“Jie-Jie, I'm okay,” he reassures her. “I'm…kind of curious. That's new because I wasn't expecting that.”

He's surprised her, he can tell. Yes, he's full of trepidation at having to meet strangers that supposedly know him, but after watching the videos last night, and again early this morning, he's excited, too. The way he sees this new challenge is that he can either give in to the negative feelings brewing in his mind, or he can create a blank space like a new piece of paper and make something he likes. From here onwards, he can put aside the past and write a new story for himself so long as everyone understands that he probably can't ever go back to being the Wei WuXian they knew. It's time for a fresh start and he isn't going to put any pressure on himself to remember how he was and his old life. Either it will happen or it won't, and both of those outcomes are literally out of his control.

So now his bright smile feels real and authentic, because it genuinely reflects his mood.

“I bet they're as hungry as I am, so go on, bring them here so we can eat. Then we can talk.” With a confidence similar to the surface of a creme brulee, Mo XuanYu turns her around and gently shoves her in what he hopes is the right direction. 

It isn't. 

“Fine, idiot.” It's affectionately fond.

Mo XuanYu watches her leave and then he nods to the two security guards outside the dining hall and goes inside.

He doesn't have long to wait; less than ten minutes later, the double doors swing open and Luo QingYang walks in with a bounce to her steps. That more than any words of encouragement reassures Mo XuanYu that everything is going to be okay.

The next person he sees is the current lead singer, Lan SiZhui. Mo XuanYu has admired his confidence from afar, always tinged with a little protectiveness because the kid is so young to be thrust into the fame that accompanies his place in the band. And yet, Lan SiZhui is so professional all of the time that it's hard not to be proud of him. His silver eyes are bright with excitement and his smile widens when he catches sight of Mo XuanYu. 

It's kind of strange because this person, a child really, knows who he used to be. And Mo XuanYu has no idea of their relationship, what it must have been like. But he can certainly make the connection between the little toddler he saw in the busking video with the Burial Mounds, when this child had given everyone, including himself, a dose of ‘cuteness’ aggression. A spontaneous wave of affection spreads warmth inside his chest, and Mo XuanYu waves back, smiling.

As the young man steps away and out of his line of sight, another taller man fills his vision. It's the guitarist, Lan WangJi. 

Golden eyes, sharp, assessing, intense, pierce his silver ones with a brutal curiosity…and something else, something Mo XuanYu can't put a name to yet. 

It's like standing beneath a gold stained glass window being warmed by the full strength of the midday sun shining through it, or staring inside a multifaceted golden diamond trying to count all the glimmering flecks. 

His pale skin is as smooth as jade and just as immaculately perfect, flawlessly beautiful, as if he has been carved from the precious rock by an expert hand. Something aches in Mo XuanYu's chest as he watches the stunning man suddenly stop to stare back at him. His expression is devastatingly hopeful.

“You called me Wei Ying!” Mo XuanYu blurts out, and the memory of that night bursts into life in his head. His hand unconsciously lifts to his head and he has to wave off a concerned Mianmian. “It's not hurting,” he reassures her, and when he looks up, he sees the guitarist so much closer, arms raised as if to help him. “Ah…maybe I shouldn't think about it just yet.” He can't look away, his eyes fixed upon him.

He's so fascinating. Mo XuanYu can't believe he knows him somehow, a being who seems closer to an ethereal God than a normal human person. 

“Dad, come and sit,” the lead singer says, pulling the guitarist even closer.

Mo XuanYu still can't force his eyes away from him. What the heck is wrong with him?

“You probably don't care, but I'm Wen Qing and this is my Didi, Wen Ning,” a sharp featured woman says, pushing the so much taller ex-guitarist forward and out of her way.

Her interruption is like ice being poured down his neck, and Mo XuanYu blinks, dragging his eyes away from the intensity of the moment. He smiles politely at her, and her younger brother gives Mo XuanYu an enthusiastic wave by wiggling his fingers. Mo XuanYu likes him already, he seems like a good-natured, friendly person. Easy to get along with.

“Tell me something,” he says, grinning at both of them, “which one of you is adopted? Just because there's no way someone as sweet as him can be biologically related to someone like you,” he adds. And then his exact words replay in his mind and he's standing up to bow to both of them. “I'm so sorry! You must think I'm the rudest person ever!” This is especially because Wen Qing lets out a choked sob, barely swallowing it.

“Oh, gods, I really am sorry,” Mo XuanYu rushes towards them. “Sometimes my mouth runs away and my brain is left trying to catch up. It's the knock on the head, and I hope you can forgive me. I'm probably one of the few people to be able to claim brain damage and not be joking!”

“Mo-Gongzi, it's alright,” Wen Ning, sweetest soul that he is, hastens to stop the word vomit that Mo XuanYu is spewing out right now. But then he adds, “It's just that it's exactly what you said the first time you met us together. Jie-Jie just didn't think you would repeat yourself. That's all.”

Everyone freezes.

Wow, Mo XuanYu thinks, feeling weirdly disorientated. What are the chances of that happening twice? Isn't it–shouldn't it be extremely rare?

“This is Uncle Four,” Luo QingYang brings the oldest member of the group forward, and somehow the normalness of the introduction lets all of them behave a bit regularly. 

Maybe Mo XuanYu should put away the weirdness of all this in a box inside his head and think about it later. Good plan.

Mo XuanYu nods at him after bowing, and then they're all lining up to get their lunch. It's an unspoken rule to let Uncle Four go first, followed by Wen Qing and Wen Ning. Mo XuanYu is pushed forward by Lan SiZhui, who once they reach the condiments section, picks up extra packets of hot sauce, his silver eyes twinkling merrily as he watches Mo XuanYu do the same. Luo QingYang is last after the guitarist. 

They sit down in the same formation as the queue for getting their food, and Luo QingYang tells them all to concentrate on eating first before they start talking, which will happen in another room because she has news. 

Her announcement makes everyone subconsciously eat faster and in no time at all, trays have been returned and the waste disposed of. Luo QingYang brings them all to the conference room where she had first shown the band the footage of when Wei WuXian had gone missing. Today, there's a large table in the centre of the room and twelve nicely upholstered chairs waiting for them. They match the royal blue carpet under their feet, contrasting well with the golden wooden furniture in the room.

Luo QingYang guides them all to their places, keeping Mo XuanYu close by her side.

“Let's not waste any time. Mo XuanYu isn't on the Witness Protection Scheme. We needed him not to be a threat to those who wished him harm back then, simply because of a lack of evidence.” She says that calmly, expecting a reaction, and she gets one. Several, in fact, and they're loud. But she's louder. “As I explained to you before, lots of things were and are happening simultaneously with Mo XuanYu's situation. Was it a gamble? Yes, but it paid off. See, at the time, corruption spread deeply and like a rot, worked its way up the legal system. A well known cop, on the cusp of promotion, exposed what he knew and it led to his death, something that could definitely have been avoided if certain facts had come to light. But as always, the real criminals are one step ahead of those who would bring them to justice. My boss was concerned that if he put Wei WuXian, or Mo XuanYu, into Witness Protection, someone would have found a way to get to him. There were many variables to consider but he really didn't want another casualty on his hands disguised to look like an accident.” Luo QingYang waits for them to absorb her words, giving them time to actually understand and process them. Then she continues. “Mo XuanYu's best chance of survival, then and now, is maintaining his amnesia and making sure nobody sees him as a threat. Hiding in plain sight.

“To that end, whatever we discuss must stay inside this room. We can't take the chance that unfriendly ears will overhear something to our disadvantage. Now, having said that, something happened last night. You may recall me mentioning that my boss suspected a power play move to take place. Well, he was right because Jin ZiXun passed away yesterday.”

“Passed away? Didn't you say he was one of your suspects?” Wen Qing sounds angry.

“I did. Also, not only the timing of his passing, but his actual death are suspicious. The cops are taking it as an accidental death but we believe it happened now, at this time, because of a ground-breaking new deal signed between Lotus Pier Productions and the Jin Conglomerate. Word is, Jin ZiXun was against the deal.” Luo QingYang looks grim.

“How did he die?” Mo XuanYu asks her cautiously. He doesn't know who Jin ZiXun is, and only because Wen Qing mentioned him does he understand that the unfamiliar person is important to Luo QingYang and whoever she's working for now.

There's so much he doesn't know or understand, and thinking too much about it is definitely going to make his head hurt.

“Apparently, he got drunk and choked on his own vomit.”

“How is he related to me? I don't know him,” Mo XuanYu rubs his temple anxiously. “How am I supposed to know who's got it in for me when I can't remember anything? Any stranger could want to hurt me and I'd never see them coming.” His breath is short, coming out of him in tiny gasps that are getting smaller by the second as the weight of his situation crashes down on him.

Coloured spots start dancing in front of him and pain erupts in his chest when suddenly a cold hand holds the back of his neck and pushes his head down between his knees. The shock of the position kick starts his lungs and finally Mo XuanYu takes a longer breath.

“Breathe with me,” a deep, melodious voice says. “In…that's right, and out…”

He knows this voice. He's heard it before. It makes him feel safe. It sounds as if the person knows what they're doing, and shocker! It feels like it's working. As Mo XuanYu concentrates on the sound of him, and letting go of his control to do exactly what he's being told to do, breathing in and out in a timely manner becomes so much easier. He taps the back of the hand holding him down and it immediately releases him.

When Mo XuanYu looks up again, he does it slowly but still, he is mesmerised by those beautiful golden eyes staring back at him. Worry and heartache are reflected back and Mo XuanYu just wants him to feel better.

“I'm okay,” he says shakily.

“Drink this,” Luo QingYang offers him a bottle of water which he takes and only after chugging down half of it, realises how thirsty he was.

Mo XuanYu blushes when he gives the bottle back and sees everyone looking at him. “Sorry…”

“No need.” Lan WangJi insists, and he glares at everyone else so hard, they immediately look away. “You are doing so well, Mo XuanYu. Better than I would be doing if I was in your position.”

“Really?” Mo XuanYu can't help asking and his voice sounds small even to his own ears.

“Mn. I do not lie.” Lan WangJi doesn't blink, staring at him so intensely that Mo XuanYu, while he's starting to like this particular form of attention, finds it embarrassing as well.

His cheeks are too hot and he makes grabby hands at the bottle of water. He drinks the rest of it, and when another is offered to him, he presses it against his cheeks instead, trying to cool off.

“We can stop if you want to rest,” Luo QingYang says, but she glances at her watch and that small action tells Mo XuanYu that they don't actually have as much time as she's offering. 

In fact, all the people in this room have put their lives on hold for him and that's a humbling realisation. He doesn't really know them…but they knew him before. And they must have liked him even a little bit to make this sacrifice of their time. The least he can do is try to make things easier for everyone. 

“No, I'm alright now.” Mo XuanYu looks directly at Lan WangJi. “Thank you. What you did really helped.”

“No need for thanks.” Lan WangJi gives him the tiniest, teeniest smile. All just for him.

Mo XuanYu thinks that if he were ever as energetic as a cheerleader, he would have done a hundred cartwheels out of jubilation for that reward. It feels like an accomplishment, a real achievement to make this man smile. Like he doesn't usually. 

Lan WangJi stands up and returns to his seat. Mo XuanYu immediately misses him, wishing he could have found a way to keep him close. 

Luo QingYang begins talking again.

“A-Yu, remember, you're not alone.”

The warm floating bubble bursts like a water balloon over his head, and Mo XuanYu pouts at her.

“I mean it,” she insists, fighting back a smile of her own. “You have me, and you have all of these people. All of us have your back unconditionally.” 

There's a hum of approval among the group, and it really does make him feel better. Mo XuanYu stands up and bows towards all of them. He's pushed back into his seat unceremoniously and that makes him giggle. After that, it's really a chain reaction because there's not a dry eye left in that room.

Once everyone calms down, Wen Qing asks a few questions. 

“Why is it such a big deal, this thing between Lotus Pier Productions and the Jin Conglomerate? Aren't they, like, two separate companies with different interests? How does it affect anyone, especially Mo XuanYu?”

“At the moment, our only connection is the Jins. Investigating them is like tracing along a spider's web of deceit and corruption, but understanding what it all means, who is involved and the ins and outs of how big the rabbit hole goes is what takes the most time. We must do everything by the book and find a judge with clean hands to make them pay. And all the while, we have to keep an eye on the bad guys waiting for their next move. Which brings me to the next thing on our agenda.” Luo QingYang gazes at Mo XuanYu for a long time. “I'm going to give you a choice,” she says softly, like dandelion seedlings floating on a thin breeze.

“A choice?” Mo XuanYu's mouth is suddenly dry, and as he takes a deep swallow from his water bottle, his eyes catch upon golden ones staring back intently. He yanks his attention back to Luo QingYang with burning cheeks. What is going on with this Lan WangJi? But he hasn't got time to think about it because Luo QingYang is still harping on about something important. Probably. 

“Ahuh. Please bear in mind that you still need to be Mo XuanYu.”

“Okay. Mianmian, it'll be okay.” He's always been able to tell when she's nervous and if it was a currency, she would be a gazillionaire. The need to reassure her, to make her feel better even at the cost of his own comfort, it's something he would do no matter what. Family means more than just hanging out together to him.

“I'm going to be needed by my boss. There are certain things that lie in my expertise and we're only gonna get one shot at this. I won't be able to keep an eye on you twenty-four seven, and that's the part that makes me uneasy. If you don't mind being on your own for the most part, then you're welcome to stay with me.” She searches his eyes but he's too busy thinking.

“In the same apartment?”

“Yeah. It's our cover story and a few of our neighbours aren't normal civilians.”

“Oh.” That's definitely new. Mo XuanYu didn't know that. It does make him feel better, that if he were to go back to his old apartment, he wouldn't be completely alone. “Would I still be working?”

Mo XuanYu feels waves of distrust and anger rolling off Lan WangJi even before he's finished speaking.

“Look, it's a legit question,” he defends himself. 

“I am not annoyed with you. I am furious at the situation that demands your time when really, you should be resting.” Lan WangJi speaks in controlled tones, his fury ripe and obvious. 

“Well, that's how us ordinary folk survive,” Mo XuanYu tries to laugh it off.

“I have something to tell you about Wei WuXian, but I do not know if it is appropriate to divulge now.” Lan WangJi says, the words bitten out with frustration. 

There's a lot going on in there, Mo XuanYu sees. It's like Lan WangJi goes around showing everyone an icy-capped mountain on the outside, his external mask when hidden inside him, he's chock full of seething emotions ready to blow them up into the air.

“Why can't you say it? What's inappropriate about him?” Mo XuanYu giggles again. “Is it something kinky?” And then he can't elaborate because his guesses aren't informed enough to make in-depth quips, plus his whole face is hot and resembles the chilli sauce he loves so much. What a day!

“No! I simply do not wish for whatever I say to trigger another attack!” Lan WangJi insists, and his ears go red.

Oh…jeez, he looks really upset about that.

“I think I'm okay,” Mo XuanYu stops laughing immediately and brings out his serious side. He hadn't thought about that. He's trying to put a lighthearted spin on his trauma and make everyone feel better about his situation, but these people are his family even if he can't remember them. They're going to be upset no matter what. 

“What does Ms. Luo think?” Lan WangJi immediately defers to her.

“Is it traumatic?” She asks that right off the bat.

“It's to do with money.”

“Mo XuanYu could do with some of that,” she says, amused. “Go ahead.”

“When we first started writing songs, it was predominantly Wei WuXian who had a knack of putting words and music together, specifically the songs he wrote which we still use now and again. But he made sure to put all of our names on them, as a band.” Lan WangJi shrugs now, looking straight at Mo XuanYu. “Everything the songs bring in is split six ways. We've done that from the beginning and Wei WuXian has his own account. All of us went with an independent bank that keeps the core amount but pays us the interest, and it's a significant amount. If Mo XuanYu doesn't want to work, he won't have to. That's all I want to say.” He calls out a number that makes Mo XuanYu's jaw drop in astonishment. 

But Luo QingYang is shaking her head.

“He can't touch a penny of it, not yet. If there's even a hint that Mo XuanYu is really Wei WuXian, through a stupid completely avoidable paper trail, you'll be putting his life on the line. Remaining as he is and working a low paid job, staying out of the limelight is the best cover. He's got to look genuinely down and in the gutter. Sorry,” she tells Mo XuanYu. 

“You said I had a choice. If I don't go with you, what are my options?” Mo XuanYu isn't a lazy person, but he just wants a break from the craziness that his life has become at the moment. Just some time away from real life so he can understand his situation that much better.

“You could stay here,” Luo QingYang replies, but she glances at Lan WangJi. 

“I have a better idea,” Lan WangJi says, clearly getting in the middle of this situation. “If Mo XuanYu agrees.”

“I'm listening,” Mo XuanYu replies, not even wasting the time it would take to glance at his friend.

“I am willing to fund a holiday for him, unlimited time until he feels better. We could relocate to the Cloud Recesses, and it's high up in the mountains. Not only would the fresh air aid in his health, but the area is secure. Nobody goes in or out without the main family's knowledge so he will be safe. I can remove anything that belongs to Wei WuXian so that Mo XuanYu can properly relax and recover. That is, if he doesn't mind my company.” Lan WangJi's ears deepen to a lovely shade of pink.

Mo XuanYu is immediately endeared.

“So what do you think?” Wen Qing asks him.

“I want to talk to Mianmian first.” Mo XuanYu stands up.

*****************

“I don't see anything wrong with his offer,” Luo QingYang admits when they're locked inside the bathroom. 

She's leaning back against a reasonably clean wall watching Mo XuanYu pace backwards and forwards, lost in thought.

“Pros?”

She lists them off her fingers one by one. “Security, mountain air, no working, paid holiday, delicious eye candy. What's not to like?”

“Cons?”

“You don't know them, things that were part of Wei WuXian's life will definitely be there, and so it stands to reason that the possibility of migraine attacks might increase…that's all I can come up with.” She grins back at him. “Would it be so bad to be his sugar baby?”

That's so cringe to him…but Mo XuanYu secretly admits to himself that it sounds nice. Not to have to worry about bills, electricity, water, the lot, or where his next meal is coming from. 

“A-Yu, you can say things too.” Luo QingYang tells him sympathetically. 

“Uh, like what?”

“Things that would make you feel safe, too. Like being there as a roommate, a no-strings-attached arrangement.”

“No strings attached?” His curiosity is piqued. 

“Ah, so…before Wei WuXian disappeared…he and Lan WangJi were in a committed relationship. They were boyfriends.”

“Really?” He squeaks, not budging from his spot. His wide eyes find Luo QingYang staring back at him.

“Really.”

“Lan WangJi…he's gay?”

“Very. He doesn't mind people knowing it, either.”

Mo XuanYu's wide eyes find a stain on the tile under his sneaker and tries to scrape it off. It is suddenly very interesting to look at.

“A-Yu, this is what I meant. You can talk about what makes you comfortable or uncomfortable, about the things that you think might set you off or have you deal with things that you don't particularly want to. And A-Yu, you will have my number. You can call me anytime and I'll be there. Nothing is permanent. If you wanna leave, just say the word.”

She comes closer and then Mo XuanYu is in her arms and they're hugging as tightly as possible. 

“A-Yu, you'll always, always be my little brother. It doesn't make a blind bit of difference to me who you are, whether you're Mo XuanYu today and Wei WuXian tomorrow, all that matters is you. Even if you never remember anything, I'm ready to tell my boss to fuck off. I mean that,” she insists firmly, laughing when Mo XuanYu looks up and around to make sure they're not being observed. 

“You give the best hugs,” Mo XuanYu tells her.

“Only for you.”

“I've decided.”

“Go on.”

“I choose Lan WangJi. No offence, but we both know you work better if you don't have to babysit me.”

“That's not the only reason, is it?” As always, Luo QingYang sees too much.

Mo XuanYu shakes his head. “I can't hide from the truth all my life. If I don't try to reconcile both the different aspects of myself, I think I would regret being a coward about it. And I'm curious, honestly. I want to know who Wei WuXian was.” Mo XuanYu bites down on his bottom lip because it's trembling. 

With shining eyes wet and full of emotion, Luo QingYang kisses his forehead. “I'm proud of you.”

He beams back at her. “Then I guess I'm going back to Gusu.”

Chapter Text

To preserve the secrecy of the location where they're at, Luo QingYang invites them onto the tinted windowed minibus again. It's not like anyone has a choice, so they climb aboard and once the door closes behind them with a hydraulic whoosh, they're off.

“This is nice,” Mo XuanYu remarks, sliding his fingers across the expensive leather covers. “Is this how we got here?”

The minibus seats have a function that enables them to be turned around so that everyone is facing each other. LED lights change colour along the sides and it feels mysterious and high-tech at the same time. They can see each other in the shadowy lighting and Mo XuanYu can pick out their expressions reasonably well.

“You came in the ambulance, but the rest of us came in this, yes.” Luo QingYang pats his knee.

“Oh, right,” Mo XuanYu remarks as his mind skitters away from that line of thinking. 

But he makes the mistake of looking up and he knows before it registers that Lan WangJi is looking at him. It's so intense, the level of his interest and in the light of his new discoveries, makes Mo XuanYu see his interest in a different context. Also, it's rather nice if exciting to be the sole focus of someone like him. The minibus goes over a pothole and jars these thoughts out of his head.

He may as well ask the questions he's thinking about. Mo XuanYu remembers the look of pure relief on Lan WangJi's face when he'd walked back into the conference room and said he wanted to visit the Cloud Recesses out of all his choices.

Mo XuanYu had read somewhere that the eyes of a person were the mirrors of their soul, and in Lan WangJi's case, he gets it. It's hard to explain because Mo XuanYu hasn't figured out everything yet, all the nuances of what he feels, but he knows that mostly Lan WangJi is a contained, quiet person. To the untrained eye, he appears unaffected by his surroundings or the current situation, but his lovely golden eyes are like crystal balls showing his feelings openly, at least to Mo XuanYu. 

Whether that is something attributed to Lan WangJi's Wei WuXian is something else to consider. But the complications that arise from his duality are problems for another day; today has been quite overwhelming, thank you very much.

“You wanted to ask some questions,” Luo QingYang prompts him.

“Mo XuanYu may ask whatever he wants to,” Lan WangJi states. It's as much an offer to him as it is a challenge to the others to dare defy him.

Mo XuanYu shivers unexpectedly, and Wen Qing throws a blanket around his shoulders while Wen Ning arranges another one across his knees. Lan WangJi looks miffed that it wasn't him who had done that for him in the first place. 

This is exactly an example of what Mo XuanYu means. No words were spoken in that small interaction and yet even though all of these people are complete strangers to him, he is fully aware of everyone's dynamics in the group. The question is, is that because of Wei WuXian's muscle memory about them or has Mo XuanYu understood it via observing them? The automatic-ness of it makes him lean towards the former. And then there is how they perceive him.

But they can't be sure of his personality now, how he thinks, reacts, or behaves as Mo XuanYu. They can't treat him as they would have treated Wei WuXian either, because that person no longer exists in the present. Say Mo XuanYu got his memories back, even then, he thinks that something would be different. The Wei WuXian of the past might not merge well with the new one, an amalgamation of two separate people. 

“I want to find out who Wei WuXian was,” he says quietly after thinking it over. “I think that might be good. And I think I want to get to know all of you, too. Again.”

“But?” Wen Qing is intuitive.

Mo XuanYu smiles gratefully at her. “But I'd like to do it slowly if possible. Right now, I feel like I'm trapped in a tiny room with a tornado. Everything is coming at me and I need time. And distance. I just–I want to be able to think about it but in my own way.”

“Maybe we can also think about talking to a professional,” Luo QingYang encourages him. “It helps, talking to a stranger who is uninvolved with you.”

There are murmurs of approval about this from everyone. 

“I'm not opposed to that,” Mo XuanYu says quickly, trying to get his point across. “But right now, I want to get a handle on myself and Wei WuXian first. So I guess I'm saying if we do it in stages, that might be easier. I'm sorry, too. I know…if it was me missing someone important in my life, I'd hate to have to wait.”

“Mo XuanYu,” Wen Qing holds out her hand and he puts his palm over hers. She's suddenly so soft about this, and it's a stark change from her usual prickliness. Her dark eyes shine with emotion. “Thank you for being honest with us. You know we care about you. You, as well as Wei WuXian. We've been waiting thirteen years already. What's a few months more?”

Wen Ning puts his hand on top of theirs. “We were thinking about visiting Japan for a couple of weeks. Fall is supposed to be breathtaking over there. We could catch the tail end of the season.”

Uncle Four looks relieved. “I wanted to visit Dafan. Still a few pockets of family members left and you know what old people are like. Maybe we can stagger the visits, so I will stay there for a month or so. Come back when you say.”

“I've got friends pestering me about game marathons. Is that alright, Dad?” Lan SiZhui asks Lan WangJi. 

“Oh…I don't want to make anyone feel unwelcome. Isn't that where you live?” Mo XuanYu stammers, feeling out of his depth. But he's so, so grateful to them for understanding him.

“Xian-Gege–I mean, Mo Qianbei,” SiZhui looks around uncomfortably, but he recovers quickly and continues, “I moved out of the Jingshi a while back. I live on top of the recording studio now.”

“Jingshi?”

“Where Dad lives. The recording studio is a new addition to the area, after Ye-Ye realised the band was not going to go away.” He snickers at some memories.

Mo XuanYu is drawn to the kid's father, though. Lan WangJi, sitting up so straight and perfect, the picture of a refined gentleman, and yet his gaze upon his son is so gentle and soft, a fond affection colouring his features. It feels like another rare glimpse into his squishy insides. Lan WangJi's barely there smile feels like a privilege for him to see.

“You can still call me Xian-Gege,” Mo XuanYu blurts out.

Wow. Why did his mouth do that? He's shocked and he can see everyone else is just as surprised as himself. 

“Only in private,” Lan WangJi tells his son. “Otherwise Mo Qianbei is fine.” He turns to Mo XuanYu. “Would it be alright if SiZhui came for dinner? He can sort himself out if he likes for the other meals, but it would be good to eat together.”

“Of course.” This is crazy. Mo XuanYu feels off balance in a way he's never experienced before. It's as if his heart is invisibly connected to anything remotely close to Lan WangJi. It's like, the eighth time it's happening and Mo XuanYu rubs the spot between his pecs absentmindedly with the heel of his right hand. 

The man only has to address him, or chance a look in his direction and off it goes, the poor little organ zooming up a mountainside like an athlete on crack.

“I will give you a tour of our home when we reach there,” Lan WangJi tells him, and Wei Ying discovers that he was terribly wrong - his heart isn't just training for the world's worst extreme race, it's trying out for every single event known to mankind.

“Once you leave this vehicle, your devices should start working again,” Luo QingYang informs them. “Let's swap numbers in case any of us need to contact each other, for whatever reason.” She emphasises the last part.

Then she pulls out Mo XuanYu's phone from her pocket and hands it to him. 

“So far, there's only us two on it, but think about adding the others. Maybe a group chat to start with. Whatever you're comfortable with.”

Mo XuanYu nods, feeling tired again. 

“It's a lot to deal with,” she adds, her smile as kind as ever. “You're doing great.”

He slumps in his seat, leaning against her shoulder. He doesn't say it, but he's glad that one of them thinks so.

*******************

That's how they end up in a secluded parking lot of a shopping complex. As soon as they leave the confines of the minibus, everyone's phones start beeping with incoming messages and notifications, and a few moments are spent making sure everything is okay. Hugs are exchanged and farewells passed around, and then Wen Ning and Wen Qing leave in a taxi, Uncle Four saunters off to have a look around the shops, and SiZhui takes Mo XuanYu's suitcase from one vehicle to the other.

Lan WangJi is shocked to find his own car with a full tank of fuel waiting for him. All he has to do after that is glance at Luo QingYang and when she nods, he knows her mysterious boss had something to do with it. He puts the address of the Cloud Recesses into his phone and discovers that they're not too far from home.

SiZhui comes to stand by his side as they watch Luo QingYang wipe Mo XuanYu's tears away when they part. They're standing a little further away, but still SiZhui makes sure to turn his face so that his words won't carry.

“I bet this is tough for him.”

“Mn.”

“We'll be there for him, Dad.”

“Mn.”

Mo XuanYu waves one last time, watching Luo QingYang get inside the minibus and it drives away. 

They see him look down and then slowly straighten up. He takes a few moments before he turns around, and then he's jogging towards them with a bright smile on his expressive face.

“Ah, sorry to keep you waiting,” he says when he gets nearer. Mo XuanYu looks a little uncertain, and that's understandable after Luo QingYang's departure. Now there's no buffer between himself and Lan Zhan, and Lan SiZhui. 

“No need. There is nothing pending upon our return,” Lan Zhan reassures him. It feels important to make this distinction, to make Mo XuanYu feel welcome. He walks over to the passenger seat and holds the door open for him. 

“Um…Lan SiZhui? Does he want to–”

SiZhui grins at him and climbs into the back. “Xian-Gege, you can call me A-Yuan.”

Mo XuanYu is just about to climb inside the car when he falters, and in his head, he sees a flash. It's just an image of three people, a little boy and his two fathers, but still, there's much to notice. “A-Yuan! A-Yuan!” He's shouting. They're at the seaside, and he's splashing the little man, who runs towards his other dad out of desperation, giggling so hard that his breath catches, and then Lan WangJi picks him up, turning them both away from the water Wei WuXian flings at them. The sun is hot and everything is glittering under its glare. 

It's just a second of time, but the memory makes a sharp pain stab his temple and all of a sudden, cool hands are cradling his face.

“Mo XuanYu, please come back,” the lovely deep voice is telling him. “You are standing by the car, and the sun is shining but it's still cold. You are in Gusu, and we're about two hours away from the Cloud Recesses. I've got you. You're alright. You're safe.”

“We…did we go to the beach at all?” Mo XuanYu gasps out the words, opening his eyes. When had he shut them? He feels disoriented again. He hears a sharp inhale and looks up into troubled golden eyes watching him carefully. 

SiZhui has come out of the car and he opens another bottle of water for him. Both of them look worried. Mo XuanYu lifts his hands up to circle Lan WangJi's wrists. He remembers the breathing exercises they had done together and it helps that he can count along with Lan WangJi. 

“I'm–I'm okay.” He shakes his head to see if it's hurting.

Whatever pain had flared up has now receded, and so he straightens up. “The beach? Us three?”

“Mn. We used to take A-Yuan every summer. That's a real memory.” Lan WangJi blinks and the brief happiness melts away, replaced by concern.

“Okay. Okay, thank you for confirming that.” His voice comes out shaky and he forces himself to let go of Lan WangJi. 

“How are you feeling? Is there any pain?”

“Not any more,” Mo XuanYu replies truthfully. “I didn't mean to worry you.”

“The pain was there? On a scale of one to ten, how much would you rate it?” Lan WangJi says, and at the same time, A-Yuan says, “Xian-Gege, it's nice to worry about you after such a long time. You're here.”

Mo XuanYu smiles at him. He's such a good kid. He wants to wrap him up in a nice warm hug and hold onto him.

“Mo XuanYu, give me a number,” Lan WangJi repeats, gentler this time.

Mo XuanYu screws up his face and thinks about it. “Six, I think? Lower rating because it didn't stay. But wow!” He's amazed at it. How, seeing such a wonderful moment with a family that he used to be a part of, it feels good. This might be the first time he's associated a past recollection with a positive feeling.

Lan WangJi types something out on his phone. Then he looks up at Mo XuanYu again and asks him, “Do you have any nausea? Dizziness?”

Mo XuanYu gingerly shakes his head, testing for that at the same time. “But you know, that's gonna get real old, real fast.”

“Then you should be more forthcoming,” Lan WangJi replies, mirroring his tone. “If you simply give me a number, that should suffice.”

“Okay.” He agrees because it's easier. The impatience he's feeling isn't just directed at Lan WangJi but at himself, too. He reminds himself that Lan WangJi is worried about him, and that's why he's asking. But typing into his phone might be something Mianmian has asked him to do as well.

As soon as Lan WangJi lets go of him, Mo XuanYu ducks into his seat within the car, anxious about wanting to get started. He's tired, too, and that space between his shoulder blades aches because he'd rather be lying down. He puts the belt on and playfully tugs the door out of Lan WangJi's grasp. He winks because the situation calls for it, and besides, Lan WangJi is just too enticing a target. He's so serious and stuffy and Mo XuanYu just wants to ruffle his feathers a bit.

Lan WangJi frowns and then walks around his car to the driver's seat. Behind Mo XuanYu, the back passenger door shuts gracefully, and there's the simultaneous click of two seat belts being fastened, and then they're off.

At a traffic light, after they've been moving for a while, Mo XuanYu turns towards Lan WangJi. 

“Did Mian–I mean, Luo QingYang ask you to keep tabs on me?” He tries to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice. 

“Mn. Not invasively, but because she wants to be kept updated with your health.” Lan WangJi looks thoughtful for a moment. “But if you would rather I didn't, then I will respect your decision.”

That's…unexpected. 

Mo XuanYu leans back in his seat and realises that his shoulders are hunched in a defensive position, so he consciously relaxes his muscles. It's nice and warm in the car and it's an expensive model, a Porsche Taycan. Everything except the dashboard is a creamy white, with a laminated wood finish. It's sleek and stylish and somehow suits the man driving it perfectly. 

“Mn?”

The horn behind them startles Mo XuanYu and his eyes flicker towards the back of the car, but Lan WangJi refuses to budge until he gets an answer. The driver in the car behind them swerves past, taking the time to roll down his window and swear explicitly, also using his hands, and then he zooms off. Lan WangJi…just ignores him. His eyes are fixed on Mo XuanYu, and he's simply waiting.

“Um…we're holding up traffic.”

“Mn.”

“You're not going to move?”

“Mo XuanYu hasn't answered.”

“Oh, jeez, okay, um, you can tell her, but like, don't go into details. And I don't want to know, okay? I trust you.” That last part is realised as the words leave his mouth.

“Mn.” The car drives forward just as the lights change colour again, and Mo XuanYu just stares at him.

Lan WangJi is all business, how he drives, how he talks, how he just is.

And Mo XuanYu finds it incredibly hot. Why it is happening now is beyond him, because he's gone through thirteen years hardly thinking about romance, or being in a relationship. Dating felt awkward and especially because he couldn't guarantee not having an episode while out with some unsuspecting innocent guy. That would have been super embarrassing and guaranteed to put people off him, he thinks.

The warmth of the car and the exhaustion of too much thinking makes Mo XuanYu lean his head against the side window. He watches the clouds up in the pale sky and makes up stories about their random shapes in his head. The motion of the car as it sails through the traffic soothes him and his eyes close by themselves. 

*****************

He wakes when the door behind him closes quietly. There's a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him. Mo XuanYu blinks a few times, disorientated. Lan WangJi smiles.

It's such a small thing but it's immensely comforting.

“We're here?” Mo XuanYu asks him, and then a massive yawn makes his jaw click and he grins, embarrassed. 

“Mn.”

Satisfied that he's awake, Lan WangJi turns and opens his door to exit the car. Not wanting to get left behind, Mo XuanYu opens his and gets out on shaky legs. He stretches as the breeze goes through his clothes, chilling him. It's much colder up here, he notices.

Both SiZhui and Lan WangJi are taking suitcases out of the trunk of the white Porsche and taking them inside the building they've parked outside. Mo XuanYu looks around since they seem to be handling it just fine.

Where he's standing, there are spaces for four cars, two of which are occupied. Next to the white Porsche is a red Mercedes, also a four seater. Mo XuanYu doesn't know much about cars but he's sure that's also an expensive model. It looks sturdy enough to keep intact and the driver alive if there was a collision. 

“Dad bought that for me,” SiZhui returns outside and leans against the white car next to Mo XuanYu. He doesn't seem to be in a hurry to go back inside, so Mo XuanYu motions towards the house and the gorgeous calligraphy sign that says, ”Jingshi” on it. “Tell me about it.”

“A long time ago, Dad's parents used to live here, well, mostly just his mother. She planted those gentians,” he points out the gorgeous blue flowers vivid against the white walls bordering the house. “This species blooms twice a year, in March and in September through October. Dad moved in just before he went to Caiyi University. This house along with the rest of the buildings up here have been in the Lan family for ages, and they're not allowed to change the outside for cultural heritage reasons.” 

“It's very beautiful,” Mo XuanYu offers honestly. And it really is. 

It's the right thing to say because SiZhui looks extremely pleased about his opinion. 

“The outside is a traditional structure popular of its time, and it was originally intended to be a single storey home. The inside has been renovated, so you'll be glad to know we have indoor plumbing. Come on, Dad told me to give you a tour.” He holds his hand out like Wen Qing had done in the minibus and Mo XuanYu finds it easy to just give him his hand.

He's pulled inside and past the door engraved with a cloud pattern all around the edges. There’s a faint woodsy smell and it takes Mo XuanYu a few seconds to recognise it: it's sandalwood. They take their shoes off and replace them with pale blue slippers for indoor use. SiZhui's ones have cute little white bunnies on them. Mo XuanYu notes that there are now three pairs of outdoor shoes on the rack, next to a wooden bench which probably has space underneath for more shoe storage. It makes him feel warm inside, like he's part of a unit. At the far end of it, there's a white and gold Kintsugi bowl where SiZhui dumps his keys, adding to the other set already there. It makes a pleasant noise, light and ringing as the metal touches the porcelain. 

Inside, the walls are white with a dark mahogany edging. They're standing inside the foyer with a dark staircase winding up straight in front of them, a little further away. Even the back of the steps are engraved with the Cloud pattern that seems very familiar. There's a feeling in his mind that he has the answer to that, like it's on the tip of his tongue.

“That's a recent addition, too. Otherwise the lounge,” SiZhui opens the door to the right of them, “would've been the bedroom of the first ever occupants.” He opens the door, also trimmed with clouds, and they're inside a lovely space.

The walls are bare except for a family portrait of four people, Lan WangJi when he must have been around twelve, someone that looks like an older brother and their parents. There's a stiffness to it, like some family pictures where everyone awkwardly looks at the camera. Maybe the picture was painted off a photograph and not with live models. Mo XuanYu can imagine how difficult that would have been if it was the case.

There are three separate dark wood bookcases, all filled with colourful spines depicting their titles, and a shelf in the centre of all three dedicated to displaying more family photos. One of them is conspicuously empty. Mo XuanYu will take a closer look later on. For now, he looks up at the high ceiling and then around the rest of this cosy place. Made even more snuggly by the thought of sitting on the white leather sofa opposite the fireplace guarded by the white fence protecting the room from spontaneous sparks. Above the clean and suspiciously empty mantelpiece, there's a huge fifty inch smart TV. The remote controls for it rest upon the clear coffee table in the centre within easy reach of all the seating arrangements. The main sofa, able to accommodate three large people, faces the fireplace, matching the white leather love seat on the left and the high backed single chair on the right, facing each other. 

In the centre of the coffee table, there's a white porcelain vase with more brilliantly colourful gentian flowers, a splash of blue within the otherwise neutrally themed room. Even the spotless fur rug in front of the fireplace is white.

Mo XuanYu is low-key worried about spilling something accidentally on anything so blank and bare, which is basically everything. Still, despite the neatness, the space looks well lived in and comfortable. 

“Dad's in the kitchen, making dinner,” SiZhui says, watching him closely. 

“Okay,” Mo XuanYu replies, letting himself be led there.

The kitchen is directly opposite the lounge, to the left of the front door. Again, the door frame is engraved with clouds, and Mo XuanYu pauses. Unconsciously, he pulls his right sleeve up, exposing his tattoo.

SiZhui gasps, holding his wrist up so he can see it better. “Dad!” he shouts, pulling Mo XuanYu inside the kitchen.

Immediately, Mo XuanYu is hit with the smell of flavourful food, a particular combination of garlic and onion sautéed in hot oil as other ingredients are added. It's everything at once, the kitchen, the food, the way Lan WangJi's hand hovers above the saucepan, an empty bowl in his other. The way he's looking at both of them transports Mo XuanYu to another time and place.

He's holding a squirming A-Yuan anxiously trying to reach Lan WangJi, and Lan WangJi is exactly as he is now, eyes wide and alarmed.

Mo XuanYu blinks, holding onto the counter to support himself, and he desperately hopes what happened to him isn't noticed. But Lan WangJi is way too sharp.

He switches off the burner and comes forward because during all of that sensory overload, SiZhui is still talking, pointing towards Mo XuanYu's wrist. Lan WangJi ignores him for a moment and says, “Number?”

There's no pain, which is weird. “Zero,” Mo XuanYu replies, a little embarrassed. But, he thinks, he was right to assume he's going to hate reporting his condition every moment, and it looks like it WILL be every moment because so far, in only one afternoon, he's had two episodes. Albeit with two vastly contrasting pain indicators. 

SiZhui shuts up immediately, realising that more than just his discovery of Mo XuanYu's tattoo is happening. 

Lan WangJi nods to himself and doesn't pick up his phone. Instead, he takes Mo XuanYu's wrist carefully, holding it with his long pale fingers and lifting it up to take a closer look. While he's doing that, he speaks.

“Memories are formed through key experiences, most notably the senses. Out of those, taste and smell are the strongest, that's why the door was closed.” The calmness in his deep voice, and the way he's acting as if all of this is normal, makes Mo XuanYu feel so much better. “When did you get this done?” His forefinger lightly traces the shape of the white ribbon with the silver emblem wrapped around Mo XuanYu's wrist.

“I don't remember too much about the night before,” Mo XuanYu replies, thinking back. “I know Mianmian took me out drinking with her friends. At the time, they'd just started me on the painkillers, and the thing with migraines is that they're unpredictable. I didn't want one when we went out so I took a pill to be on the safe side, except neither of us knew that alcohol doesn't mix well with them. So when I woke up, I had a bandage around my wrist and a list of what to do afterwards in my other hand. Mianmian says I cried a lot that night. But I don't know why.” 

Lan WangJi lets his thumb caress the soft smooth skin of the emblem with the matching clouds that Mo XuanYu has seen everywhere. “This design, it's important to my family.”

“Yeah.” Mo XuanYu knows that NOW. He can't concentrate on anything else except the burning touch which is making him breathless, and he absolutely knows it's got nothing to do with his bad memory problem. Nu-uh, this is all Lan WangJi, and it's definitely a ‘now’ issue.

“SiZhui, perhaps you can show Mo XuanYu the back garden and the rest of our family.” Lan WangJi gently puts Mo XuanYu's wrist down and steps away to return to his cooking. “Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes. Please close the door behind you.”

Mo XuanYu watches as Lan WangJi picks up the empty bowl and places it in the sink, and maybe it's his imagination, but he thinks Lan WangJi is just as shaky and trembling as he is. But SiZhui wastes no time in doing what his father asked him to, and the last thing Mo XuanYu sees before the door closes is Lan WangJi staring at the saucepan with unseeing eyes.

“Rest of our family?” Mo XuanYu registers the words a bit late, and he wonders who Lan WangJi was referring to. 

“Oh, yes! You're going to love them, Xian-Gege!” SiZhui, joyful and happy, leads him past the staircase to another door that obviously leads outside. He vaguely gestures to the left and right respectively. “Over there is the pantry and utilities room, along with the door to the basement. It's a games room in case you're wondering, and this side is the home office. It's where we use the computer and print stuff out,” he adds. But now that he's in a hurry, the excitement is catching as he unlocks the door.

Again, Mo XuanYu notices the cloud pattern around the edge, and then they're outside. 

It's a porch with a wide decking, and two extremely comfortable rocking chairs made out of wood sitting to one side. They have crocheted soft looking plump cushions tied to the bottom and the back with the strings plaited like friendship bracelets dangling off them. The cushions are also a pale blue and white swirling cloud pattern. They look hand made, one definitely better orchestrated than the other. SiZhui sees him looking and smiles sadly at him.

“Wei WuXian made those as a birthday gift for my other dad.”

Mo XuanYu looks at his own hands. After his accident, he hasn't done anything like that. He hasn't even thought about it. Maybe it's better if he doesn't. He steps forward, past a pile of matching blue and white blankets, towards something infinitely more interesting. This part of the decking is sectioned off, housing two furry fluffy friends. Mo XuanYu hurries towards them, accidentally scaring the two bunnies to retreat.

One is pure white with unusually golden eyes while the other is all black and slightly larger. The white one has a blue collar with a tiny silver bell that jingles pleasantly whenever it moves and the black one, whose fur seems incredibly thick and luxurious, wears a matching red collar with a gold bell. 

“They're both males, and the white one is called Tofu, and the black one is Bean. They're a bonded pair.” SiZhui sits down next to him, after grabbing one of the blankets and putting it around Mo XuanYu's shoulders. “Like this,” he shows Mo XuanYu patiently, putting his fingers close to the edge of the fence separating the bunnies from them. “They scare easily, but Dad says this is like shaking their hands like a greeting.”

Mo XuanYu copies him, so excited that he's vibrating on the spot as Bean comes closer. He holds his breath and waits, not daring to even blink as Bean takes a sniff. Then there's the tiniest lick of a pink tongue.

Mo XuanYu squeals with delight, unintentionally scaring the rabbit, but it comes back and then SiZhui is lifting it out of the enclosure and putting him on Mo XuanYu's lap.

“Oh my God!” Mo XuanYu whispers, in total awe. “You're so soft, aren't you, you beautiful boy!” He blinks away the tears as his fingers gently stroke the little guy, and then SiZhui gives him a dandelion to feed Bean. He sits down with Tofu, doing the same thing with his bunny.

It's so relaxing to do this. To feel the fresh mountain air on his face, the softness under his fingertips and the immense gift of trust from a small innocent animal. It's the best feeling.

Mo XuanYu sniffs, wiping away his sudden tears and waving off SiZhui's concern. “I don't know why I'm so emotional today. I'm just so happy!” He beams, laughing at the drops of water still rolling down his cheeks despite his efforts to remove them.

“You've had a long day,” SiZhui tells him with a smile. “In fact, a series of long days. It's a lot to deal with.” Then he looks a little more serious. “Xian-Gege, promise me something?”

“Anything.” Mo XuanYu says straight away. 

SiZhui's smile is both sad and careful. Though he doesn't say why, Mo XuanYu gets the feeling that what he just said might've been something Wei WuXian would've said to him, too. No matter. It is no less sincere, in his mind. He means it.

“If you can, please be kind to yourself. Your situation…it's unique and unfamiliar. And it's hard to cope with. But Dad was right: you're already doing so well. I just…well, I think you shouldn't try to force yourself to remember anything. That's all.”

Mo XuanYu's heart swells with affection for this young man. “I can't believe you're eighteen. How are you so wise already?”

“I have excellent parents,” A-Yuan tells him, and Mo XuanYu groans, hiding his face. He knows SiZhui is referring to both Lan WangJi and himself. 

The bunnies like being petted and the time spent with them feels too short when SiZhui suddenly looks up and smiles.

“Dinner is ready. A-Yuan, show Mo XuanYu where the downstairs bathroom is.” 

Lan WangJi's voice will never ever fail to make him shiver, Mo XuanYu thinks, picking up Bean and rubbing their noses together. 

“I'll come back to see you, Beautiful Bean,” Mo XuanYu tells the fluffball and then gently kisses the top of his head before handing him over to SiZhui. When he stands up, Lan WangJi's ears are a deep pink and he whirls around, disappearing towards the kitchen.

“Bathroom's this way,” A-Yuan tells him, leading him back inside.

********************

Dinner is noodles with meatballs for Mo XuanYu, and plain but spicy ones for A-Yuan. Lan WangJi's bowl looks seriously bland and straight up inedible. 

Mo XuanYu waits patiently until everyone starts eating. He's quite hungry and the food is wonderfully cooked to perfection. There's even extra chilli oil which he gratefully dumps onto his noodles and digs in with gusto. Once the majority of the hunger pangs are satisfied, he slows down. It's rather quiet, which is unusual. 

But he doesn't feel comfortable enough to say anything. What if this is just how they are in this house? What if they prefer it? And is he overthinking this?

SiZhui speaks once his plate is wiped clean. 

“Xian-Gege, don't mind us. It's one of the Lan Clan rules not to speak while eating. But if you don't mind, may I ask you about your job?”

It's a relief to be talking, Mo XuanYu finds, and soon, he's telling them all sorts of anecdotes about being a steward at the stadium. His company isn't restricted to keeping order at just the stadium; they often take on jobs around the city, in particular, the local arena. He tells them about a flighty magician who accidentally forgot to lock his cage and all the turtle doves escaped at the worst time possible, ruining his show. There was another time when too many people surged towards the stage and they had to emergency evacuate quite a few audience members because they got crushed against the barriers erected for their safety.

“Will you miss your job?” Lan WangJi asks him, once his chopsticks are put neatly to one side.

“I don't know,” Mo XuanYu says, trying to make light of it. “The thing is, I never liked taking time off. Plus it's not exactly a well-paid job, so me and Mianmian had to do all the work that came our way. My migraines would happen without warning so I'd miss out, and we were just lucky that our colleagues filled in for us. We'd do the same and it was a tight network of friends. So, I guess I'm going to miss them while I'm off. I have to say, I'm looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow morning.”

“Are you done?” SiZhui asks. He begins collecting their plates as he stands, so Mo XuanYu also tries to get up after he's nodded, but Lan WangJi stops him with a hand on his forearm. 

“Let him do it. It's character building.”

“But Lan WangJi, you cooked. It's not fair.” Mo XuanYu shouldn't feel so affected by the light touch, but his heart seems to have a mind of its own, doing the weirdest flip flops in his chest.

“You are our guest. Please rest while you stay with us.” He looks so earnest. “Also…please call me Lan Zhan.”

“How about we take turns? I can't cook for shit, but I can clean up fast. I don't want to feel like I'm not contributing to the chores.” Mo XuanYu pouts. And then he adds, “Lan Zhan.”

Those adorable ears turn pinker than a tub of strawberry ice cream, and Mo XuanYu wants to coo at him. He's so cute! Especially for somebody so intensely serious all the time. 

“We'll see.” 

“That's not a yes,” Mo XuanYu narrows his eyes at him. But then a yawn creeps up on him, and he has three in quick succession. 

Lan WangJi stands up and motions to him to follow. “You've had a tiring day. We will also turn in.”

“What time do you usually go to sleep?” Mo XuanYu asks him, as they climb the pretty staircase.

“When we're touring, it's around midnight if I'm lucky. My preferred time is nine. It takes a while to return to that habit after the concert season.” 

Once they reach the top, Lan WangJi points to the central door. “This is an extra bathroom, though both the bedrooms have ensuite facilities.” He gestures to the right. “My room is over there if you need anything.” He walks over to the left side and opens the door. “And this is your room.” He turns on the lights.

Mo XuanYu walks into a lovely open space with fitted white cabinets and wardrobe space across one whole wall, with an inserted makeup and dressing table. There are even showbiz style light bulb fixtures all around the edges of the spotless mirror. The adjacent wall to that is floor to ceiling windows letting in natural light during the daytime. Now that it's dark outside, Lan Zhan goes to shut the thick heavy curtains and straight away, there's a cozyness to the room. The room is mostly white, with the curtains a pale grey to match the bed covers. It's all very neutral and easy on the eyes. There's also a comfortable looking armchair that reclines facing the view. It's big enough for two people, or if Mo XuanYu wanted to curl up into a ball for a nap.

Four black suitcases are lined up next to the wall with the door, presumably leading to the bathroom for this room.

“Er…pretty sure those aren't mine,” Mo XuanYu says, looking at them.

“Luo QingYang says she emotionally blackmailed her boss into getting you new clothes. New everything, actually. But Mo XuanYu, if you don't like anything, or if you would like to choose your own things, then we can go shopping tomorrow.”

“Well, I'm not too fussed,” he admits. He picks a suitcase up intending to dump it on the bed so he can see what's inside and then he's struggling because it's far, far heavier than he expected. 

Lan Zhan grabs it singlehandedly and puts it where he wanted it originally, even popping open the expensive looking clasps for him.

“What the fuck?” The colourful language leaves his mouth as Mo XuanYu holds up a black lace shirt. It's completely see-through. He puts his hand under the top layer hoping for at least a skin coloured lining…but no! It's just a beautiful transparent soft lace shirt.

He quickly puts it down and picks up another shirt. This one is made from a crimson silk satin, slinky and figure hugging, and even softer than the black lace one. Each item he pulls out of the suitcase is high-end, and Mo XuanYu knows enough about fashion to know that much. The entire collection is just fancy clothes albeit in his preferred colour ways. 

While he has been examining the shirts and trousers (yes, there are matching trousers!!) Lan Zhan has been carefully putting them away, hanging them up on white hangers inside the pullout wardrobe. 

Then he puts the first suitcase to one side and without Mo XuanYu asking, lifts the second one onto the bed. This one is full of smalls; underwear - and yes, there's a wide variety - socks, and handkerchiefs. With Mo XuanYu's red face and Lan Zhan’s red ears, these items are quickly placed in one of the cabinet drawers. The third suitcase is full of casual wear clothes, and Mo XuanYu is much, much happier with these. They make fast work of organising them and then it's just the last one. It's full of sleeping wear with expensive silk dressing gowns and matching pyjamas, sleeping boxers and t-shirts.

Mo XuanYu decides to get changed straight away, as soon as most of the garments have found a home.

A shower also sounds nice so he bundles up his long hair into a shower cap and uses the body soaps that are already there. All of them remind him of Lan Zhan’s clean, sandalwood scent, and it's a thrill to be able to smell like him. Even the body lotion he finishes up with is the matching fragrance, and Mo XuanYu feels special to use it. 

When he re-enters the bedroom, he sees that Lan Zhan has put away all the suitcases in the top most cupboard space of the wardrobe. He turns around as soon as he hears Mo XuanYu enter, and again, his ears give him away. 

Mo XuanYu is wearing a plain red t-shirt and black shorts that reach the top of his knees, and this is only because it's quite chilly up in the mountains. There's underfloor heating but the earlier sight of snowcapped peaks makes him shiver by osmosis. 

“If you need anything, anything at all,” Lan Zhan says, once again offering.

“I know where you are,” Mo XuanYu finishes with a smile. “Good night, Lan Zhan. See you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Wei Ying. See you tomorrow.”

It's only after Mo XuanYu closes the door behind him that he realises what Lan Zhan called him.

Chapter Text

Lan Zhan comes downstairs to find SiZhui finishing up after cleaning the kitchen. For a moment, they just stare at one another, and then Lan Zhan opens his arms. SiZhui fits into his embrace as if he's made for this, a piece of his own heart slotting into place. They don't hug often just because, but when they do, it means something. 

His son has a unique fragrance around him, as if his body somehow absorbed baby powder and vanilla, and for Lan Zhan, it reminds him of a happier time. A time for a family of three. Wei Ying had always been the chatty one, easily coaxing their son to say what was on his mind, but his own connection with this soul wasn't as obvious. Perhaps it is because Lan Zhan has always been reticent at voicing his thoughts that SiZhui has adopted this method for bonding with him; sometimes, they only need to share a glance and they know what the other is thinking.

Today hasn't been tough for just Mo XuanYu. 

Two other souls have been affected by his presence in this place as much as he. It is incredibly hard to have him here and refrain from being overly familiar, to revert back to their natural camaraderie, the way the three of them made living together work. One had been a dance with partners who knew the moves, and this is searching for someone who isn't there, with empty arms.

“Are you alright?” Lan Zhan asks him, because he wants SiZhui to put words to his thoughts and see if his own experience matches up.

“Not really. I mean, it's Dad, but it isn't. And I just want things to go back to normal. I hated seeing him get hurt like that.” He's referring to the video footage Luo QingYang had shown them about the night Wei WuXian had disappeared. 

“Mn.” This singular word is full of regret, fermented after being bottled up for so long and therefore much stronger now. 

“Dad, it's not healthy to keep blaming yourself. The real criminals are behind bars.”

Not all of them, Lan Zhan thinks. But he doesn't want to make SiZhui worry about things that are out of their control.

“I will do better,” he says instead, because SiZhui deserves an answer even if it isn't the one he wants. “Do you want to stay for a while?”

SiZhui pulls away, shaking his head. “After being away for so long, my own bed is calling to me.”

“I'll walk you there,” Lan Zhan replies, fetching both of their jackets. 

Outside, it's a clear night with all the stars shining above them in a velvet sky. They walk slowly under well lit paths, comfortable in the silence of two people who are used to it. When they reach the recording studio building, SiZhui turns to him.

“I think I'm going to go stay with Jin Ling for a few days, catch up with him and JingYi. Give Xian-Gege some time to get used to living here again.”

“Mn. As he said, he wants to make it easier by going in stages.”

“I was scared today,” SiZhui admits. 

He looks so vulnerable now, a far cry from the confident, charismatic lead singer of a successful band, used to playing in front of thousands of fans. Under the lamplight, he's just a little boy missing his absent father.

“When? In the kitchen?” Lan Zhan means when Mo XuanYu had a mini flashback triggered by the smell of his favourite dish. But while that hadn't been intentional on Lan Zhan’s part, he had wanted to do something nice for the Wei Ying that wasn't there with them. 

“That too, but later on, when we were with Tofu and Bean. I thought he would remember.”

“The brain is a strange organ. His brain has suffered an injury the likes of which we cannot comprehend the severity of, and it is trying to regroup. Who knows if being in a familiar place will help or hinder his healing? All we can do is try to be there for him.” Lan Zhan pats his head affectionately. “SiZhui, it is alright to take some time for yourself. I am here. You do not need to feel guilty, either.”

This time, SiZhui doesn't wait for the invitation; he throws himself into his father's arms and they stay like that for more than a few moments. Lan Zhan cradles his head, marvelling that it still fits inside his palm. This is his little boy, and he's hurting too.

When they say good night, Lan Zhan makes a promise to himself: from here onwards, he will be strong enough for both of them, and for Mo XuanYu. 

Someone has to be.

*****************

Mo XuanYu wakes up slowly, increments of consciousness that culminate in his tummy rumbling like a lost tiger cub searching for its mother. He's in a strange but very comfortable bed, and it's like lying on a cloud. He has slept better than he has in a long time, though he's aware of dreams that he can't recall right now.

He blinks and notices the fan connected to the light fixture above him. He thinks about the Jingshi and how nice it feels to be here. What must it have been like to live here as Wei WuXian? If Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi–Lan Zhan were in a committed relationship like Mianmian said, then Wei WuXian would be sleeping in Lan Zhan’s room right now.

That gives him a funny feeling in his tummy so Mo XuanYu puts that to one side. Staying in bed isn't feasible when his body has needs and so he rises reluctantly and goes to the bathroom. The shower is so good, the hot water therapeutic and allowing his mind to wander. He reaches up into his thick hair, kept long even after his injury has healed. His fingers trace the scar tissue, still raised and softer than the surrounding skin. He's done this before, but now it's different. He has so much more information to dwell upon, and even though it's not complete, what he does know makes a small part of him happy, that he was right to question his life, to suspect that perhaps there was more to the man called Mo XuanYu. 

But this also makes him sad. There used to be a person called Mo XuanYu, killed for unknown reasons, and forgotten because Wei WuXian had picked up his ID card and taken his name instead. It's such a bizarre, strange occurrence that he still can't wrap his head around it.

“I'm sorry, Mo XuanYu,” he whispers against the hot water beating down on him. “When this is all over, maybe we can find out what they did to your body. If they buried it somewhere, we could hold a service or something. I can ask Lan Zhan about that.” 

The last thought brings him some solace that now he's not alone. He has Lan Zhan. And SiZhui, though he wouldn't want to put this burden on a child. And maybe Mianmian’s boss might know more about what happened to the real Mo XuanYu that night.

Mo XuanYu finishes washing his hair and dresses quickly. When he leaves the bathroom towelling his hair, there's a knock on the door so he goes to answer it.

“Good morning, Mo XuanYu. Lunch is ready.” Lan Zhan, as immaculate as ever, greets him warmly, his lovely golden eyes drifting down to see what he's wearing. 

Today, Mo XuanYu felt cold and chose to wear a black hoodie over a red t-shirt and a pair of black skinny jeans, comfortable clothes. His fashion sense is directly opposite of Lan Zhan’s attire because it might be casual for him, but in Mo XuanYu's book, that's definitely runway chic. He's wearing pale grey loose pants and a cream silk button up shirt with flowing sleeves. It's cold enough to warrant the cream cardigan that he's added, and Mo XuanYu has to stamp hard on the desire to hug him, just to see if it's as soft as it looks.

“Mo XuanYu?”

“Huh?” Mo XuanYu looks up from where his attention had gone, to Lan Zhan’s pale blue bunny slippers.

“Lunch time. Also, I have a gift for you. Several in fact, though most of them have not come from me.” With that cryptic sentence, Lan Zhan suddenly frowns. “Would you like some help with your hair?”

Mo XuanYu realises that he's been causing more knots in it than actually drying it all this time. “Yes,” he says, because one, he can't be arsed to, and two, Lan Zhan offered. That's on him.

“Please sit at your dressing table, I will fetch the dryer,” Lan Zhan says, moving towards the bathroom. 

Mo XuanYu does exactly that, fiddling around with a small panel of controls that make him realise he can manoeuvre the mirror and make it come out a bit on the sides. He also turns the light bulbs on and basks in the heat they emanate. Lan Zhan returns with the hairdryer, a Dyson, and a fresh towel. With expert precision, he brings Mo XuanYu's hair up and out of the way to settle the towel around his shoulders so he won't get cold, and then he opens the top drawer of the table. He removes a comb and two separate brushes. He's methodical in a way that makes Mo XuanYu think he's done this before. But what he wants to ask dies on his lips. Even he isn't that thick faced enough to mention Wei WuXian right now.

Instead, he watches the concentration grow on Lan Zhan’s face as his long, gorgeous fingers card through his hair. They are gentle, applying only as much pressure as needed without making the strands pull or hurt Mo XuanYu unnecessarily. Once the most obvious knots have been dealt with, Lan Zhan turns the hairdryer on and keeps it moving so there is minimal damage to the hair and Mo XuanYu feels no discomfort by too much hot air in one place. Slowly, with even strokes, he combs through Mo XuanYu's thick hair, smoothing it down from the roots to the tips.

It's so soothing that he ends up closing his eyes, utterly relaxed.

“My sister used to do this for me.” Unbidden, he sees a young lady wearing a lilac dress with waterfall sleeves standing behind him in his mind's eye. She's laughing and she looks so beautiful, carefree and young that she takes his breath away.

They both freeze.

Mo XuanYu's eyes snap open, finding Lan Zhan’s golden ones staring back at him in the mirror. He's worried for a second, and Mo XuanYu sees the moment Lan Zhan realises that he's not in any pain because he puts the dryer down and begins to braid the hair. Mo XuanYu releases a breath that he's been holding onto.

“Does Wei WuXian have a sister?” He asks quietly, his gaze never wavering from Lan Zhan’s face.

“Can we please wait to have this conversation?” Lan Zhan says, just as quietly. “Just in case whatever we talk about causes a reaction, I would want you to be able to find relief, and that is only possible if you take your painkillers with or after  food.”

“Alright.” 

With that one word, the tension dissipates and Lan Zhan’s deft fingers tie the end of his braid with a red scrunchie. They go downstairs for lunch after that.

***************

Mo XuanYu insists on helping with cleaning up so they're doing the dishes side by side. He likes the peacefulness induced by the domestic activity, simple tasks that require the minimum of thinking.

“I feel better today,” he says, making conversation for the sake of it.

“That's good.” 

“Like I'll be able to handle things better.” He can't seem to stop, though. “Maybe you could tell me more. About Wei WuXian.”

“Mo XuanYu, you do not need to rush the process. We can take things slowly.” Lan Zhan remains calm but there's a worried glint in his beautiful eyes.

Mo XuanYu sighs, wondering if he'll ever be normal about the colour of them after meeting him. Every time he looks at Lan Zhan, he feels like he's swimming in a pool of melted gold, surrounded by warmth and sunshine and just happy thoughts. Which is crazy if he thinks about it, seeing as he only met Lan Zhan a few days ago. There's no reason why he should feel so comfortable with him, being around him. And then there's the flipside of this craziness, which is in one word, his libido. 

That thing is constantly fired up like a squirrel on hard drugs discovering an energy drink loaded with caffeine. All the time. It's functioning on a hair trigger because just a glance from the incredibly hot beautiful man is enough to make Mo XuanYu breathless.

Lan Zhan doesn't even have to touch him, it's getting so bad. Just standing next to him, feeling the heat rolling off him, because Lan Zhan is a furnace, always running hot, and drinking in the tantalising fragrance of sandalwood, all mysterious and just so good, is enough.

Time and time again, Mo XuanYu has to tell himself that Lan Zhan is taken. Okay, it sounds crazy when he thinks that through, because he's technically taken by himself, but it also feels like cheating on Wei WuXian. Plus he doesn't want to further complicate things by having feelings. Thank goodness that hasn't happened yet.

“You know,” he starts saying, chewing on his bottom lip. “You don't have to call me Mo XuanYu.”

“Then what should I call you?” Lan Zhan smirks. “Xian-Gege?”

That smirk…There are mini explosions going off in Mo XuanYu's head. What right does he have to be so hot? Does he have any idea how appealing he is just because he's teasing him?

“Are we the same age?” Mo XuanYu wonders, trying to deflect by changing the subject.

Lan Zhan becomes serious again, and Mo XuanYu misses that fun side of him immediately.

“We were born in the same year but I am almost ten months older. My birthday is in January. Wei WuXian's is in October. Mo XuanYu's birthday is on the 16th of April.”

Lan Zhan peels off his yellow washing up gloves as Mo XuanYu puts away the last dish.

“Until you choose something to your liking, I can continue to call you Mo XuanYu.” Lan Zhan gestures towards the kitchen door. “It is now gift-giving time.”

They go to the lounge where a fire burns merrily under the mantelpiece, and Mo XuanYu is drawn towards it, enchanted by the colour of the orange flames. He holds his hands out towards it, warming his skin.

“This is for you.” 

When he turns around, Lan Zhan is holding out a journal towards him. It's white and there are two sleeping bunnies on the cover, and a pink bunny pen complete with bunny ears nestled within the spiral spine holding the pages together. He lifts his eyes towards his benefactor, smiling when he sees the matching delightfully pink ears again on him.

“If it is not to your liking, we can choose something else. But writing down one's thoughts helps put them in order. I promise that I won't read anything written inside.” Lan Zhan clears his throat uncomfortably. “Last night, I couldn't sleep and I decided to do some research…on headaches and migraines.”

“Wow, Gege! What did you find out?” Mo XuanYu gestures towards the sofa that's facing the fireplace and he pats the seat next to him after tucking his legs underneath himself. 

“A lifestyle change is recommended. Lots of fresh air, a healthy diet, less caffeine and plenty of exercise. Specifically yoga.” Lan Zhan’s ears are getting pinker by the second and Mo XuanYu wonders what his lobe would taste like. It looks so soft and inviting, and he gets the feeling that this must be what vampires go through, you know, if they were real. But Lan Zhan is still talking, so…

“Yoga reduces stress and tension, improving posture and promotes relaxation through a combination of stretching, breathing and mindfulness practices. Studies have shown that yoga therapy is associated with reduced headache frequency and may be an effective complementary approach to managing the symptoms. Since your migraines are particularly painful, I think we should try some of these things out.”

“Not gonna lie, that's ho–impressive,” Mo XuanYu nods. “So are we gonna, like, hire a yoga instructor?”

Lan Zhan’s ears sky rocket to a dark, dark red. “I was thinking I could teach you.”

“Lan Zhan! You do yoga? Since when? And how good are you? I mean,” he blushes fast, “You probably know so much more than me, but like, would you know enough to teach me?”

Again, Lan Zhan’s smirk makes another appearance. He stands up and goes to one of the bookshelves. He brings back a photo frame and shows it to Mo XuanYu. 

“Waah! Advanced Yoga Practitioner? That's amazing!” Mo XuanYu continues reading the rest of the information written down. 

Lan Zhan got this certificate ten years ago. He could legit teach people if he wanted to.

“We could start tomorrow morning, if you like.” Lan Zhan offers.

“Is it gonna be hard? I don't know how flexible I am. But I guess it's just stretching, right? I suppose we could…” he taps the side of his nose thoughtfully. “What time are you thinking?”

“I get up at five.”

“What?” It's more of a proper screech. “Why would you do something like that to yourself?”

“They are traditional values my uncle has instilled in us.” Lan Zhan looks amused.

Nothing actually changes on his face; he's still as handsome and beautiful as ever, but the corners of his eyes crinkle up and his lips twitch. There's also a twinkle in his eye that is usually absent in the day-to-day Lan Zhan. 

“Lan Zhan!” Mo XuanYu still sounds scandalised. “I hope you know that I can't do that. I'm not a morning person, not by any description. That's why the stewarding job worked out so well, because the late nights are far more tolerable!”

“We can find a happy medium. I shall wake you up at seven. It is important to establish a routine that offers optimum rest and activity so that the body is trained to do what you want it to instead of being caught blindsided. For now, Mo XuanYu should also consider going to sleep earlier so that he is clear headed in the morning.”

“I don't like your research!” Mo XuanYu grumbles, pouting.

“There are also a selection of teas that can promote a sense of well-being. I've ordered a few different types to be drunk at specific times of the day. A holistic approach is the way to go, especially if we don't want anything to interfere with your medication. The goal is to achieve a balance so superior that the medication is no longer needed because the headaches are gradually filtered out.”

Mo XuanYu scowls.

“Also, spices raise blood pressure so a blander diet–”

“ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY NOT!!!” Mo XuanYu shrieks, giving Lan Zhan’s shoulder a firm shove. He doesn't even budge. “Listen to me, Buddy. Here's how it's gonna go: I'm waking up at ten–”

“Seven–”

“Nine–”

“Seven!”

“Eight, and that's my final offer. If you're taking away hours of much needed and very important sleep, rest, Lan Zhan, rest! Then, even if you're doing me a favour, the best I can do is not complain about it. But don't expect me to be happy about it! Jeez! What is the world coming to??”

“Fine, eight o'clock it is.”

“And if I have to drink terrible teas then I'm not going to give up my chilli sauce. Or my chilli oil. Or peppers in general.” He watches Lan Zhan through his lashes, and he can tell he's exasperated with him. He wonders how far he can push Lan Zhan into doing what he wants, and he thinks the process is going to be quite fun.

“We can cook together, and once you are involved in the creative side of it, perhaps you will be more willing to try a variety of tastes instead of just the hot one.” Lan Zhan primly picks up his tablet and starts reading something.

Mo XuanYu watches him for a few moments, reminding himself that Lan Zhan is very accommodating. He doesn't have to do any of this, but he's just as, if not more, committed to helping Mo XuanYu out.

He sighs and opens the journal that Lan Zhan gave him. It's a thoughtful gift, and maybe it couldn't hurt to write things down. Wei WuXian wrote songs for the band and apparently, they were successful enough to earn him a good amount of money. Maybe he could try that too, because what were songs anyway but a collection of one's thoughts? How hard can it be?

Mo XuanYu carefully opens the book and writes the date on the top.

And that's it. His inspiration dies as suddenly as it had appeared and he begins doodling instead. He draws Tofu and Bean in different poses, adding flowers around their bodies, and then the pattern solidifies into a mandala that spreads across the whole lined paper. Then, Mo XuanYu gets a fantastic idea.

On the corner of the page, working his way backwards so that he begins the first drawing at the back of the book, he draws a little boy holding a balloon. He carries on drawing, changing one tiny thing with every rendition. He loves this, the precise thought process of having the images in his mind come to life on the pages in front of him. When he's done, he flips the pages a few times, incredibly proud of himself because it works fine. He looks up intending to show Lan Zhan what he's made, to find Lan Zhan already watching him with a small smile on his face.

Mo XuanYu grins at him. “I'm sorry, I know you wanted me to write depressing shit down, but I started drawing.”

“Therapy comes in many shapes and forms. May I see?”

Mo XuanYu hands over the book, suppressing a shiver when their fingers touch. Still, he can't help scooting closer and showing Lan Zhan what he's made. When Lan Zhan holds the corners of the book and begins flipping the pictures, he looks enchanted and in awe of it, that such a simple thing can bring such wonder. The first picture is of a boy playing with a kitten and then he finds a balloon, and the changing images tell a mini story, capturing part of their day. The subtle differences between each picture when flipped through fast enough create the illusion of moving images, when paradoxically, it is only the papers which are moving.

Mo XuanYu basks in the warm feeling that spreads down from his chest to his tummy, so happy that something he made with his own two hands makes Lan Zhan look like this. He's so proud and happy to show and share.

Lan Zhan gives the book back after a few more repeats of watching the little boy in shorts jump up and down, playing with the little kitten and his balloon. He's still smiling.

“Perhaps we could go down into Caiyi. There's an art supply store near the University campus. We used to go there a lot.” His eyes, concerned for a moment, flicker uncertainly towards Mo XuanYu. 

“Lan Zhan…are you scared?” Mo XuanYu watches him lick his lips before answering. 

“Of what?”

“Of telling me things. Of reminding me about our life.”

The fire hisses and crackles, breaking up the silence as Lan Zhan nods. He's admitting it, and now all the times he tried to delay it makes sense.

Mo XuanYu lifts his hand towards him, palm up. Lan Zhan glances at it for a moment before covering it with his own, much larger hand. It engulfs Mo XuanYu's hand completely, and he's warm, both facts making him tremble.

“I'm scared, too.”

Lan Zhan looks up sharply at him then, almost disbelieving. But whatever he sees on Mo XuanYu's face makes him sure. “Then…but you have asked me more than once about the past.”

“Yes. Don't get me wrong, I'm completely terrified. Both of finding out things and not being able to make them match up, and of getting those blasted headaches. But I'm also interested in finding out things. And I realised that running away from the problem isn't going to make it go away. There's a status quo all around me and it's like walking around on eggshells. I don't know what's going to trigger a headache. But the thing is, the headache will happen regardless. Um…I guess I'm saying that I don't want the fear of the possibility of the pain to stop me from finding out. So if I'm willing to take the chance, then you have to do it with me. I don't want to do it on my own.” Mo XuanYu covers their hands with his other one.

“You are braver than me.”

“I keep thinking about different outcomes, scenarios that might come true.”

“Such as?”

“Well, on the one hand, if Mianmian was going to contact you and the band at some point, then maybe me remembering the past isn't that important. Maybe they can swoop in and find evidence, everything they need to put away the bad guys for good. But part of me knows that's wishful thinking. I think Mianmian and her boss need me to find out who the third person was in Nightless City, and whether this is because they need substantial proof or not, may be the cause. I feel like I need to DO something, otherwise I'll be teetering on the edge of whatever this is forever. Do you get what I'm saying?”

“You want to face this head on.”

“Yes, exactly. Three days of being scared and I'm done with it. I want to move on. I want to take responsibility for myself. I'm still scared but in a proactive way.” Mo XuanYu looks outside, and he can see the branches of the cedar trees swaying in the breeze. “Shall we take a walk? Get some fresh air?”

“Mn.” Lan Zhan stands up easily, pulling Mo XuanYu up with him since they're basically holding hands.

“I should go put some warm clothes on,” Mo XuanYu goes to pull away but Lan Zhan doesn't let go.

“No need. Mianmian’s boss sent over more packages last night. Express delivery. With a note.” Lan Zhan goes around the back of the sofa and pulls out a large brown box. 

It must weigh quite a bit because it sinks into the sofa seat deeply, and yet Lan Zhan looks unfazed. Yoga really works for him, huh?

Mo XuanYu's curiosity wins out and he sees the box is already opened.

“There was no name on it,” Lan Zhan answers, correctly guessing what he's thinking. 

“That's okay, I trust you. If I'd gotten a mysterious package at a weird time, I'd have ripped it open too.” Mo XuanYu grins before drawing back the flaps of the box. The note lies on top, reading: “A-Yu, my boss is VERY sorry for forgetting how cold the mountains are. Please accept this as a token of his apology. If you need anything else, you have my number. Let's milk him dry!” And she's added a smiley face.

“I like Luo QingYang,” Lan Zhan says, again with the pink ears. “She has been a good friend to you.”

“Ahuh, yeah, she has.” Mo XuanYu puts the note on the seat next to the box and takes out the first item.

It's a black woollen coat, lightweight and extremely soft, with a large hood. Both it and the coat itself are lined with red silk, and Mo XuanYu sticks his upper teeth out like a silly vampire and pretend-snarls at Lan Zhan, but he can't pull it off because he's giggling too much. But the box is too large for just this one item of clothing, so he keeps it aside and delves in. There's a lightweight see-through mackintosh for the rain, an assortment of hats, scarves and gloves, and a puffy jacket in a deep crimson red with black silk lining.

“Wow…I guess Mianmian’s boss is really sorry, huh?”

“They should be.” Lan Zhan sounds angry enough for Mo XuanYu to look at him. “They kept us apart for thirteen years. In light of that crime, do they think a few clothes can make up for that?”

Oh, he's actually furious. 

Mo XuanYu has never seen him this angry before. He's not sure what to say about that. 

In this, Lan Zhan, SiZhui and the band have suffered greatly, more than himself. All Mo XuanYu had to do was cope with headaches and pick himself up from having a blank past and learn to deal with a new future, which he did even if he was confused all throughout. But these people, who knew him for so long had lost him suddenly, and that must have been so hard.

Lan Zhan lost a partner, someone he loved enough to have as his boyfriend, and SiZhui was only a kid back then. He lost a father, and just thinking about how devastating it must have been for Lan Zhan to try and explain to his son that he didn't know where Wei WuXian had gone is making Mo XuanYu tear up.

“Somebody that is powerful enough to have a pop-up secured base in the middle of nowhere, with complicated data protection and selective online connectivity surely had the means to bring you to us. The biggest question I have is why didn't they?” Lan Zhan’s fists are clenched tightly at his sides, his golden eyes hard and unrelenting with a blistering fury.

“There must have been a reason,” Mo XuanYu murmurs, going to him. He takes one of Lan Zhan’s hands by the wrist and gently opens up his fingers, threading his own with them. “It's another mystery tied up with the holes surrounding this situation. When Mianmian told me about you, and what happened in Nightless City, she said it would be easier for me to think about it like it had happened to someone else. But what did she tell you about that night?”

“She showed us a security tape.” The fight goes out of Lan Zhan’s body and he trembles.

“Really?” Mo XuanYu is suddenly excited. “Can I see it?”

“Is that a good idea?”

“Why? Should I not? Do you think it'll hurt me?” He knows he sounds uncertain about it, so he forces a confident tone into his next words. “It might be the push we need. It might trigger the right memories and I could maybe identify the person they want.”

“Mo XuanYu, it could also give you an immense amount of pain. Let's think about this rationally.” Lan Zhan looks really worried now. “I do not like the idea of you hurting. It was tough to watch.”

“I am being rational…oh! How about this? You said Yoga could help, right? How about we do our best to limit the headaches, something we were going to do anyway, and then watch it? It's a good plan, right?” The hope in his voice is real.

“I do not think it is a good idea–”

Mo XuanYu pouts at him.

“But I will ask Mianmian. She can confer with Doctor Chan FengLi and decide.”

And that, in Mo XuanYu's opinion, isn't a no.

**********************

Lan Zhan makes Mo XuanYu wear the woollen coat, a hat (even when he protests and points out the hood) and a scarf, plus the gloves. He puts on the same amount of protection himself and that's the only thing that makes Mo XuanYu feel marginally better. 

What makes him want to swoon though, is when Lan Zhan offers his arm after the door of the Jingshi closes behind them. He even keeps a hand over Mo XuanYu's fingers to keep him there, and it's incredibly sweet.

“Some of the paths can get treacherous with ice,” Lan Zhan explains.

The Jingshi is quite far away from all the other buildings.

“SiZhui said your parents lived there,” Mo XuanYu looks back to where they've come from.

“Mn. My mother mostly, especially in the last years of her life.”

Mo XuanYu gets the feeling he doesn't want to say anything more about that, so he decides to concentrate on the path in front of them. They're clean, with not even an errant leaf cluttering them. 

It's a brisk cool day, though the sun is shining through hazy clouds. It's quiet, which is nice for a change. Only the sounds of song birds break the silence, coupled with the whispering wind through the leaves. Some of them are already beginning to turn from green to rusts and golds, heralding the change in season. 

“Which is your favourite season, Lan Zhan?” Mo XuanYu asks, realising that he knows next to nothing about this stoic, gentle person. 

“There are good things about all of them.”

“Go on, then. Tell me.”

“Winter because of the first snow. Ice on the lakes at night. How pretty everything looks under a blanket of white. SiZhui's birthday is on the twelfth of January.” 

Mo XuanYu can't help smiling at that. Lan Zhan is the epitome of a hard cookie on the outside but with a warm gooey hidden centre.

“Spring because of the blossoms. First peach, then cherry, and then plum. Everything comes to life after hibernation.” 

“Summer?”

“Loquats.”

“That's it?”

“Melon.”

Mo XuanYu giggles. “So poetic about the others and yet the hottest months only get single words!”

Lan Zhan makes a face, and it's just his nose twitching, scrunching up with distaste. “The heat is precisely why it is lowest on the list.”

“Alright then, what do you like about autumn?”

“The leaves change. Maple leaves in particular remind me of...Wei Ying. Also, his birthday is on the last day of October.”

“You still love him,” Mo XuanYu says, and then wishes he hadn't, not when there's a flash of intense pain in those lovely golden eyes. It's gone just as fast, and for a moment, he has to wonder if it was just his imagination. 

Lan Zhan doesn't say anything for the longest while. Then, just as they reach the biggest of the buildings that Mo XuanYu has seen so far, he hears him say, “There can be no other.”

Mo XuanYu turns to him, opening his mouth to ask if he really heard correctly, when a gruff, angry voice says, “So, you're back. What do you have to say for yourself?” 

They turn to see an older man staring back at them. He's wearing a full traditional hanfu in white with silver frog fasteners, white trousers and a white cape lined in baby blue, and there's no mistaking the glare he's aiming at Mo XuanYu. He has a goatee and a thin moustache, and looks like he's just licked a cockroach.

“Mo XuanYu, this is my uncle, Lan Qiren. Uncle, please meet Mo XuanYu.”

*******************

A/N

Dear Beautiful Readers, 

CLIFFHANGER!!! I LOVE THEM! SO MUCH!!

I might have to make a separate book for this 😆 You know the issue I was having about the chapter count? Well, it hasn't gone away. On my tablet where I write, it's the same as yours, at 118 (including this part), but on my phone it's gone up to 200 and I'm scared it isn't gonna let me update. If that's the case, I'll definitely make a new book so it's all in one place.

Not gonna lie, though: I had no idea it was going to get this long🤣 the parts I'm writing now are why I started this whole thing! Anyway, I hope you guys like it!

All my love,

Charlie

🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫

Chapter Text

Mo XuanYu steps back, slightly hidden behind Lan Zhan, who is definitely his safe place right now. He knows this older man spells trouble. 

“Mo XuanYu? Is this a joke? Do you think coming back here with another name changes anything?” 

Uh oh, he's switching up colours faster than a chameleon, from normal to red to purple. Mo XuanYu didn't know anyone COULD turn that particular shade of indigo. Ever.

“Shufu, please, can we go inside? It is important that you refrain from judgement until we have told you everything.” Lan Zhan’s calmness in the face of such rankled disdain is commendable, but all that happens is that Lan Qiren turns to the left and starts walking towards a modest looking house, built in the traditional style. The low sloping roof gives it an elegance missing from most modern architectural styles favoured by modernisation, and Mo XuanYu can appreciate the beauty of simplicity here.

They go inside and exchange their outdoor shoes for indoor slippers, and follow Lan Qiren into a bright open living space, very similar to the interior of the Jingshi but more severe, with even less personal items out to be seen. There's only one bookshelf, and it's half empty. There are no photos of anyone, no trinkets, nothing whimsical or unnecessary, just the bare essentials. Lan Qiren's furniture is a stark contrast against the white walls, all dark mahogany and chocolate brown sofas. Even his coffee table is dark brown with cream coasters to stop moisture cup rings from staining the surface.

Unlike the Jingshi, this is a bungalow, a single level occupancy meant for one person. 

Who is currently glaring at Mo XuanYu, like he personally burnt down his house in a previous lifetime.

“Why all the hate?” Mo XuanYu asks Lan Zhan under his breath, still keeping his hand on his arm linked together. That, aside from everything else, seems to be making Lan Qiren even madder.

“I should have explained before,” Lan Zhan murmurs, sounding apologetic. To his uncle, he gives him a short version of events leading up to the present day, using as few words as he can get away with.

Throughout the debrief, to his credit, Lan Qiren does not ask a single question. He just glares with an increasing strength like a lit flame under a mercury stick. It is quite disconcerting to Mo XuanYu, who has no idea whether this Uncle Qiren is always like that or if his own presence has caused such extreme distaste. Either way, he's comfortable enough in his own skin to not be too bothered about it. Wei WuXian, on the other hand, better hire a taster, cos this guy might try poisoning him, and he looks like he'd enjoy every second of it.

Aside from that issue, there is also an Undercurrent of Tension pretty visible to Mo XuanYu. 

Granted, he has only known Lan Zhan for less than a week, but from the clipped tones, the rigid posture and that tiny crease between his brows, Mo XuanYu can deduce that a) Lan Zhan is pissed, b) his Inner Bitch is coming out to play in T minus ten seconds, and c) he's absolutely, one hundred percent on it, ready to throw hands.

So Mo XuanYu is just watching the shit go down and lamenting the very obvious lack of popcorn.

Lan Qiren hasn't stopped stroking his whiskers once.

There's a part of Mo XuanYu that wants to give in to the manic, hysterical urge to giggle right now, and the only thing stopping him is Lan Zhan’s big hot palm on his knee, exposed by the front slit of his warm coat sliding open by itself when he sat down. And it would be right where the denim is stylishly torn to give more room to the joint. He gets the feeling that Lan Qiren loathes ripped clothes, specifically if they're jeans, and Especially if they're worn by him, A.K.A. Wei WuXian…but that's just a hunch.

When Lan Zhan stops talking, Uncle Qiren uses that Piercing Gaze (™ by the Lans) to study Lan Zhan carefully. 

“I am unfortunately fully aware that, due to your correct and proper upbringing,” he pauses to scowl at Mo XuanYu as if to imply that he's the complete opposite and therefore, the absolute equivalent of a Devil's Spawn, “You would not favour untruths. Therefore, I can only conclude that you have been thoroughly deceived. The tale is too outlandish to give serious attention to, though I am glad to throw this charlatan out of the Cloud Recesses on your behalf.”

“Rude.” Mo XuanYu remarks. This old man has just accused him of lying using flowery words, which he probably hopes aren't going to be understood. 

“Mn.” Lan Zhan sits even straighter in his seat, and Mo XuanYu swears he can see actual yellow lightning bolts spewing forth from his eyes. He squares off against his uncle. “Respected doctors have signed off on his condition, but even if they had not, I know Wei WuXian. No matter his proclivity for pulling pranks, there is no way he would do something like this, to this extent, when he is fully aware of how much it would hurt me. Furthermore, to hear your true opinion about the man I love unconditionally is disappointing. I do not want to be disrespectful towards you, when originally, I had thought to ask for your help regarding your expertise with tea and the variety of brews that could help with Mo XuanYu's migraines and headache situation. As a result, we are leaving. Please do not expect to see either of us in your vicinity unless it is by an unfortunate accident. I am sorry to have taken any of your time.” He stands up and brings Mo XuanYu with him, and then they're leaving even before a shocked Uncle Qiren has finished huffing about their visit.

For the second time today, Mo XuanYu sees and feels how upset and angry Lan Zhan is.

The walk back to the Jingshi is so fast that they might as well have been flying on swords for the speed. Mo XuanYu is hot and bothered when they reach the front door of Lan Zhan’s home, and not just because his wrist was held in a tight grip all the way back.

Lan Zhan catches him rubbing the soft skin just beginning to redden when he lets go, and he immediately looks contrite, apologising sincerely about his lack of awareness. Mo XuanYu waves him off and tells him that there's no need, following him into the kitchen after they've put away their outdoor clothes. Lan Zhan goes straight to the sink and begins washing his hands.

“Do you know you're supposed to sing the entirety of ‘Happy Birthday’ while you do that? That's how long it takes to kill off all the germs.”

“Not the big ones.”

Mo XuanYu hoots with laughter. Snarky Lan Zhan in the house. He clearly means his uncle.

But then he seems to retreat into himself. There's his normal silence, and it's a definite vibe, and then there's this…brooding. Lan Zhan remains tight-lipped and silent as he opens up the refrigerator and begins taking out ingredients to make a start on their dinner. However, it's as if he's operating on autopilot.

Mo XuanYu hunts around for the correct sized plates and pulls out the peeler and the knives, intent on helping, and Lan Zhan doesn't even try to stop him, which is doubly weird.

“Where's SiZhui?” He asks, pulling the chopping sheet towards himself. “Isn't he joining us?”

This question brings Lan Zhan out of his thoughts. “SiZhui is spending time with his friend, Jin Ling. Also, he wanted to give you some space to get used to living here. He'll be back soon when he's ready.”

The Jin name sounds as if he should know it, but the memory of it is like a crazy bubble floating just out of reach. But it's the last three words Lan Zhan has said that stick in Mo XuanYu's mind. ‘When he's ready’...Lan Zhan always says what he means, and extraneous words are discarded. The fact that he picked these three is important. 

“It's hard for him, isn't it? Seeing me like this.” Mo XuanYu feels like someone has drenched him with a bucket of cold water.

“He is resilient. While the situation isn't ideal, he will recover and bounce back. Do not worry about him.” Lan Zhan stares at all the vegetables they've chopped up. “I do not know what I'm making.” 

Mo XuanYu stares at him for three heartbeats, and then he's laughing so hard, tears are pouring from his eyes, and his belly hurts. Cool, calm, and collected, supremely organised Lan Zhan blindly chopping poor victimised veggies because he has to vent somehow is just too funny. And again, his beautifully soft-looking ears have gone entirely pink in the most endearing way.

Mo XuanYu tries, okay? He very sincerely tries to stop laughing, looking at anything but what Lan Zhan is doing, but then his eyes glimpse that chopping board, and he loses his composure again and again. Lan Zhan throws him a few exasperated looks, but on the whole, his lovely eyes are shining with a soft warmth towards him. He finds a bowl of leftover rice and decides to put together a simple stir-fry.

They eat in the kitchen sitting next to one another, and even though Lan Zhan is opposed to Mo XuanYu's spice addiction, he still puts his favourite condiments next to him. Afterwards, he brews a wonderfully fragrant peach tea, dark and sweet.

They bring their drinks into the lounge and sit opposite the fireplace again, naturally picking the same spots as they did in the morning.

“I should explain about Shufu.” Lan Zhan looks like he'd rather jump off a cliff than do this, so Mo XuanYu nods, enthusiastic about solving some of the questions in his mind. “He does not know you as Mo XuanYu, so please do not take his words to heart.”

Sweet Lan Zhan, always putting him first. Mo XuanYu smiles at him, gentler than before. He takes a sip of the hot beverage, wrapping both hands around his mug.

“My parents passed away when my brother just graduated high school, and I was in my third year. It was a difficult time because my father had been travelling when it happened, and my mother was here, but nobody, including her, knew she had a rare form of cancer. It is what took her from us. In any case, Shufu took over our care.”

This is difficult for him, Mo XuanYu instinctively knows. He reaches out with a hand to pat Lan Zhan’s knee, offering comfort with no idea how well it'll be received. Lan Zhan’s larger hand holds it there, welcoming and firm.

“I met Wei Ying on the first day of uni.” Again, his ears are showing more than his words ever could. 

Mo XuanYu hides a grin behind his mug. “I bet you fell in love right away.” He doesn’t know why he said that. 

“Mn.” 

The frank admission is shocking. Lan Zhan is the sort of private person who hates being perceived, hates having his thoughts known or speculated upon. With wide eyes, Mo XuanYu continues to stare at him, hoping he'll get more.

“I realise it is a little hypocritical of me to give you a journal and expect you to use it when I have kept important details and information away from you. So I will do my best to rectify this issue.” Lan Zhan finishes his drink and puts his cup down so he can pick up Mo XuanYu's hand and just hold it.

It's just a hand, Mo XuanYu thinks. If Lan Zhan needs it, then he can have it. Mo XuanYu has another one right here…and besides, it's a nice, soothing feeling, this contact. Since Lan Zhan initiated it, that means he wants it, and Mo XuanYu gets the feeling this heartbreakingly beautiful man might be a tiny bit touch-starved. He's not the type of person who generally goes around hugging people, at least, Mo XuanYu can't imagine it. 

“Forgive my candidness if I keep mentioning Wei Ying.”

“Oh, you're good,” Mo XuanYu waves away his concern like a seasoned pro. “Mianmian told me to think of him like somebody else, and she's right, it's a lot easier. You can speak freely.” He smiles reassuringly.

The room feels cosy and warm with the curtains drawn. It's just the two of them here and the air feels electric, as if secrets will be spilled tonight. Mo XuanYu is so up for this. The lights are dimmed and the saffron flames cast an intimate glow in the room, one of safety and peace.

“I made a promise to myself, not long ago,” Lan Zhan says, looking into the fire now. “Wei Ying had been missing for years by then, but I refused to believe he was gone. Over time, both my uncle and my brother tried to force me to date others but I explained that it was impossible for me. My heart was only made for one person and I was helpless to this fact. But I realised that while Wei Ying and I were boyfriends, we had never exchanged the true words of letting each other know the depth of our feelings. I promised myself that if I ever was graced enough for a second chance, I would not hesitate to reveal my heart to him. The time for misunderstandings would be over and I would leave no room for doubts.”

Sparks hiss and crackle marking the movement of time. Mo XuanYu shivers, finishing his tea. He grabs one of the pale blue and white blankets from the back of the sofa and scoots closer to Lan Zhan. Neither lets go as they use their free hands to cover both of them with the extra layer. Mo XuanYu leans back in his seat, gaining warmth from both the blanket over his lap and the heat from Lan Zhan’s body, relaxing him.

“At first, I could not admit how much I liked Wei Ying. He was everything I was not. Friendly, outgoing, kind to a fault, ready to stand up against bullies and equally flirtatious and cheerful. Beautiful, talented and easily able to charm people into being his friends. He was smart, too. I believe, if his scholarship had covered it, he would have aced all the sciences too, but his heart was wrapped around poetry and writing. He loved how a single word or a phrase could invoke such clear emotions or paint pictures immediately relatable to the listener or reader.

“I found him irritating and annoying until I realised that I had made a colossal mistake in identifying my own feelings, something I was able to admit to him much later, and Wei Ying forgave me. He was never one to hold a grudge, and even in this, he said neither of us were to blame because it was our first romantic interest. Both of us were too inexperienced to be good at relationships, so he declared that we would learn together. We shared our first kiss three months after we had first met, and we were together for two years, eight months and one and a half weeks. 

“Then Wei Ying said he wanted to drop out of university to pursue a music career. But he didn't want me to do the same.” Talking about this is hard, Lan Zhan realises. It's like walking outside with a blindfold on, at the mercy of the elements and the kindness of strangers. He has no idea how Mo XuanYu will take this, anything he reveals about their past lifetime. He hopes that it doesn't trigger a headache for this gentle, stunning man. The thought of any pain touching him feels wrong and it's the opposite of Lan Zhan’s intentions, and still he's at the mercy of him since Mo XuanYu had claimed that morning that he wished to stop being afraid.

“Why?”

Lan Zhan looks over to him, his heart fluttering with affection every time he sees Wei Ying’s face. He has to tell himself over and over that this isn't Wei Ying, not at the moment. But oh, how he yearns that it was!

His lovely silver eyes reflect the light of the fire, casting them with a golden glow. He's so beautiful, he makes something twinge in his chest, and it's not just his features. Wei Ying and Mo XuanYu possess an empathetic quality seldom found in others, the fabric of their makeup. It had been one of the first things to draw Lan Zhan towards him.

“Wei Ying used to come here often, and so of course, my uncle knew of him. The library in the Cloud Recesses far surpasses most others, so we used to do all of our research here. Wei Ying would try being quieter, but it was like trying to put a lid on a live volcano - impossible! I told him it did not matter to me, but his natural personality grated on uncle's nerves. He used to make Wei Ying copy out the rules carved on our Sect Stone, just to try and tame him a bit. Wei Ying knew he was being targeted unfairly and hit back with unprovable pranks, all quite harmless.”

“What did he do?”

“He stayed over one night and didn't sleep. His purpose was to wait until Shufu was asleep and then he crept into his house and shaved off his beard and moustache. My brother and I have a theory that once it grew back, the trauma of its absence makes Uncle constantly stroke it to reassure himself that it is still there.”

Mo XuanYu giggles.

“Another time, Wei Ying covered our Sect Stone with a heavy duty calico canvas. Then he copied it exactly, even each one of the rules that he knew by heart. By the time he was done, his painting was an exact replica of the original. I thought it was going to be one of his art submission pieces, and it was, but later. Wei Ying tied the canvas around the stone so that from all sides, it was impossible to tell that it was just a cover. He then proceeded to attack it with a red spray can and graffitiing it with the most explicit colourful language, the likes of which my uncle had never seen before. That was his first ever Wei Ying related hospital visit. Suffice to say that there were more such incidents, and was only the beginning of their rocky acquaintance. 

“But that is the reason why Wei Ying didn't want me to leave university, not because of the ramifications on my career, but because of the backlash of my uncle's temper. But I talked with Wen Qing and Wen Ning, and Uncle Four. By this point, we were already busking and performing at town squares and places of dining. We had gained a modest following on Weibo and Douyin, and Wei Ying thought it was time to reach for the stars. Timing is everything in the idol industry and so we all agreed to do it together. 

“Wei Ying’s own adopted family, the Jiangs of Yunmeng, and incidentally, now Lotus Pier Productions, was against his dropping out. They disowned him.”

Lan Zhan’s fist clenches on top of the blanket. He's angry again.

“What about your family? I can't imagine your uncle being happy about your decision.”

“Mn. He was furious. My brother as well. I expected it from Shufu, but since my mother had been a singer before her marriage, I thought my brother would be more understanding. However, he blamed Wei Ying for “leading me astray” and estranging me from him and our uncle. But they forced me to choose between them and Wei Ying. It was easy for me but not what they expected I would do. It caused a rift between myself and them. By then, we had already adopted A-Yuan. Things were moving fast back then. We had enough money to move into a studio apartment together, the whole band with Popo, A-Yuan’s grandmother. Times were tough but we made it work. Wei Ying was the best at finding things that were fun but free to do, and all of us raised A-Yuan together. 

“We entered idol shows, nothing big, just localised competitions, and that's how we found out about how bad the situation really was between artists and the major entertainment companies. Especially with the Wens and Nightless City Corporation. The Jins were hardly better, taking advantage of up and coming artists and bands desperate for a leg up into the music industry, but behind the scenes was even worse with scandal after scandal being brushed under the metaphorical carpet of too much money and brilliant lawyers. Wei Ying knew the Wens would come sniffing around because it was no secret that their distant cousins were part of our group. But he underestimated their intentions.” 

Mo XuanYu suddenly stands up and goes to fetch him a glass of water, which Lan Zhan accepts gratefully. He had not anticipated how difficult talking about the past would be. But in some ways, it is helping. By releasing his thoughts and feelings like this, he feels so much lighter. He understands that he has kept all of this locked tightly inside his chest until now. Letting it go is cathartic in more than one way.

“After Wei Ying went missing, we had to regroup. Decide what would happen next for us. My uncle and my brother assumed I would return home humbled and therefore, pliable to their ideas about my future. When that didn't happen, the chasm only widened and we did not speak for many years after that. We didn't have enough funds to go back to university, so that was out. Uncle Four fermented and brewed his own fruit wine as a side business selling jars from home to the local people. Wen Qing and I found work as baristas, and Wen Ning took a part time job at our local library. I won't sugarcoat it, it was a hard time for everyone, including A-Yuan, who didn't understand why he couldn't see Wei Ying anymore. That child was so good, he hardly ever cried, but Wei Ying’s absence brought on severe tantrums that had our neighbours complaining, especially at night. 

“It was around that time that the Wens were arrested. I can't remember too much about it, but I recall that Nie MingJue was a police detective at the time, and he was caught in the crossfire of a burglary that went wrong. I only know of this because his brother, Nie Huaisang, started his own independent record company around that time, and we had to delay our signing with him. He had been about to contact us before Wei Ying had gone to the meeting in the Nightless City building. We had so much material, because Wei Ying was a song factory on legs. Hundreds of songs waiting to be polished and turned into sellable records. But studio recording time was too expensive and we were barely making ends meet even with all of us working daily jobs. Wei Ying had a lovely voice. The way he sang, it made his words come alive in a way that not even SiZhui has been able to do. The expert technicians at Nie Records were able to digitally remaster his voice and set the music properly, and that's when the real money started coming in. Nie Huaisang found us singers who would tour temporarily with the band, selling it to the popular masses as us giving opportunities to new artists, and he often signed them to his company afterwards.”

“When did A-Yuan start singing for the band? Officially?”

“Two years ago, Nie Huaisang accidentally heard him messing about in the recording studio and surprised us for a round of tours. We had no choice but to accept him, and then he became an overnight sensation. At the moment, his endorsements and private sponsorships make more money than the rest of the band members combined.”

Lan Zhan sounds so proud of him.

Mo XuanYu gets a pang of heartbreak for all of them. How excruciating it must have been to have to survive without their lead singer! How would they have explained to a kid that one of their parents had gone missing? That they might not come back? That no one knew where they were? All of it was agonising and painful with no real closure. Kept in the dark and without a way of knowing anything concrete.

“I know what it's like to have an empty bank account and no money to your name,” Mo XuanYu says, swallowing hard. “It must have been so difficult. To have dreams promised and then be let down so badly.”

“Wei Ying still managed to look after us, even though he physically wasn't there to do it. His songs saved us and paved the career path for our future.” Lan Zhan replies immediately, firm in this belief. His thumb strokes over Mo XuanYu's knuckles in soothing circles, thinking back to that time of his life. “Can you remember what happened to you after Luo QingYang's intervention? Where did both of you go?” Lan Zhan folds his long legs underneath him, and turns to face Mo XuanYu. 

“Thirteen years is a long time.” His voice breaks. He really doesn't know what to say about the effects of his absence on people he should know. He can only feel bad about it.

Lan Zhan offers his glass of water to him, and the few mouthfuls help nudge the lump away from his throat.

“I spent a lot of time in bed trying to get better. Whenever I needed a doctor to sign off on a prescription medication, we'd use the walk-in places and give false addresses so nobody could trace us. Mianmian used cash all the time. I was out of it pretty much constantly.”

“Was it recovering from the head wound? I assume surgery would have taken place.”

“Yeah, that too.”

“Too? Please explain properly. I would like to know in as much detail as you are able to give me.”

Mo XuanYu looks at him then. Is this because this body really belongs to Wei Ying? How much of this concern is about him, regardless of his name? His mind still can't address his true identity, or even the thought that he might not be Mo XuanYu. It's a black hole ready to suck him out of his reality. He can't deal with it now.

“Mo XuanYu?” Lan Zhan squeezes his hand.

He shakes himself gently, trying to remember the original question. “The surgery caused terrible headaches, but that was just the start of them. They quickly morphed into migraines, and we only discovered that after the regular ibuprofen stopped working. That was about a year into our moving around. We never stayed in one place for more than a few weeks until one day, Mianmian said we were going to stay in Yiling because she had a job and maybe she could get the same one for me. That's how we ended up working for the security company as stewards. Simple work. It made me feel useful.” Mo XuanYu sinks further down in his seat, closing his eyes.

Lan Zhan is so warm and comfortable, he thinks, letting his mind drift. “We should come up with a plan,” he murmurs. 

“Mn. We will.”

“Maybe we can,” his voice distorts as he yawns again, wider than before, “go through what happened and try to piece together a proper timeline. I might remember something.”

“Mn. Sleep now.”

The very reasonable voice is sweetly convincing, and Mo XuanYu agrees. Sleeping sounds like a wonderful idea. Everything else can be tomorrow's problem. He feels a gentle pressure on his hair and then his stomach swoops as if he's being lifted up but his eyes are too heavy and won't open for him. The last thing he hears is a soft whisper close to his ear.

“Good night, Mo XuanYu. See you tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

Mo XuanYu wakes up slowly, his body stretching naturally and chasing the sleep away. He's warm and comfortable, the blanket pulled up to his neck and he would just turn over to catch a few more winks…but his mouth feels too dry and a little bit stale. There's a dim yellowish glow from the nightlight next to him, allowing him to squint and see shapes. He sits up blinking, reaching for a glass of water that isn't there. It's enough to wake him up out of the stupor that usually takes time to dissipate, and he throws the covers off himself, letting his bare feet sink into the plush pile of the thick carpet. It's nice to squish his toes and feel the softness of it against his bare skin. It's so nice that he decides to leave his fleece-lined slippers here at the foot of the bed, and he stands up. Lan Zhan must have carried him to bed, because the last he remembers is sitting on the couch in the lounge. That thought makes him blush.

Lan Zhan is strong, Mo XuanYu knows that. But seeing the proof after the fact is a whole new pocket of rabid thirst. The man is far too attractive for Mo XuanYu's peace of mind. And, he hides that strength under flowy, loose clothing...and if Lan Zhan can carry his weight all the way up the stairs and put him to bed, well that's a wonderful bonus, isn't it?

Thankfully, Mo XuanYu's fingers are cold enough to bring some relief to his hot cheeks, and he grins. What is he, a teenager? The wish to kick his feet wildly, swooning like a maiden with her first crush is agonisingly real.

Lan Zhan has also thoughtfully plugged his phone in to charge and it's at full battery now, the screen reading two twenty-two. That's a magic number, he thinks, leaving it on the bedside cabinet. He pads across the room to the window and a wish to see the stars makes him pull the curtains towards himself. 

Out there, the world is quietly recovering from the day it's had, the light of the half moon casting a pale silvery glow over the tall, wide cedars, the long pine trees and the grass. It's like a dark watercolour painting, the greens all mixed up with shadowy black to wash their brightness out, make their colours bleed into one. He watches the way the wind shakes the leaves and the outer branches, imagines the rustling sound they would make if he was outside now. Up above him, there are so many stars shining down that Mo XuanYu has to marvel at the fact that they're not visible during the day. They don't vanish at all, but they go  pale, disappearing under the strength of the sun. The blinding powerful light of it makes them impossible to see during the daylight. They are still there, but not.

It's like his memories. 

The blankness in his head, really a dark pit of nothingness, has always worried him. How his mind could store nothing beyond his first memory of a bloody hand as it left the aching part of his head, how he had stumbled to his feet and leaned against the wall until everything stopped moving. How his whole body hurt. The confusion of looking around and finding the ID card on the ground and picking it up, because that was a normal thing to do. The face on the photo matched the memory of his own and of this, he was certain. So he put it into his pocket and looked around. 

Now he knows that it was some seedy basement in Koi Tower. The light had been too dim to see anything clearly and there was another long shape on the ground, covered by a dark sheet and–

Suddenly a sharp, piercing pain hits his temple that has Mo XuanYu falling to his knees. It's so bad, he lets go of the heavy curtain to clutch his head, pressing tightly so that the pain goes away. He needs his painkillers. Breathing through the pounding in his head helps enough that he can stand up slowly, waiting for the gaps in between to take a step at a time. He reaches the stairs that lead down and he holds onto the bannister as he descends. The wood is a polished, smooth coldness that slowly travels up his calves and he wishes that he had put on his robe. The nights really are much chillier up here in the mountains. 

Water, he reminds himself, as he reaches the ground floor.

But just as he turns to the right towards the kitchen, a noise to his left makes him pause. He listens carefully, suspended in the half light spilling from underneath the lounge door onto the gleaming floorboards. Why is the light still on? Did Lan Zhan forget to close it?

He edges closer, quietly. 

There's a sob. A cry that is stifled. Someone is in there.

Mo XuanYu's heart rate picks up, fingers trembling as he eases the door open by the tiniest fraction, holding his breath and hoping he doesn't make a sound. He peeks inside. Then, he must tamp down on the urge to enter the room as brashly, as openly as he would normally, and in the end, he's glad he didn't do that because he's facing a heartbreaking sight.

Lan Zhan is kneeling on the floor by the coffee table. In front of him is a brown cardboard box, the flaps like elephant ears flopping open. His large pale hands are clutching a picture, and oh no… 

He's crying. His shoulders shake with the force of his emotions, coupled with the need to keep quiet. But his breath hitches with every inhale. It's like he's trying to put a lid on the storm of violent pain and anguish in a futile attempt to contain it. 

To see the normally strong and stoic man be reduced to this, so much smaller one, hurts Mo XuanYu deeply. Each suppressed whimper, the shine of tears on that beloved face, his lovely golden eyes fierce with suffering, it shatters Mo XuanYu's heart into tiny jagged pieces. Those strong, broad shoulders hunched and curved inwards to hold it in, oh, how he must be suffering. 

Mo XuanYu's own eyes fill with tears.

Lan Zhan is in so much pain, and he knows this is his fault. He has to take the blame because…because there is no one else who is the culprit of this heinous crime.

If Wei Ying hadn't shown that much bravado, if he hadn't gone to the meeting with the Wens, then none of this would be happening. Wei WuXian wouldn't have lost his memory and Lan Zhan wouldn't be crying so hard in the middle of night, alone in his suffering.

It is a private moment.

Mo XuanYu knows that Lan Zhan would hate it if he went inside now. That's why this door is closed, and why Lan Zhan is trying so hard to keep it down, to not make a noise - he doesn't want Mo XuanYu to know how deeply affected he is. To intrude now would make it so much worse.

Mo XuanYu feels a horrible cocktail of hurt and shame and anxiety. Very slowly in partial increments, he eases backwards and tiptoes towards the stairs. He climbs each step full of remorse, telling himself off with every breath. 

What right did he have to come here? To disturb this kind man so cruelly? Before his arrival, of course Lan Zhan must be missing his Wei Ying, but to have Mo XuanYu be here, flaunting something in front of him and reminding him of his love…it is possibly the worst thing he could've done. The migraines, the headaches, they're nothing, nothing compared to the immense well of pain he has inadvertently poured over Lan Zhan who does not deserve this.

The man gave up his family, a possibly luminous career path where he would have been guaranteed to be successful, all to be with Wei WuXian. And what did Wei WuXian do to repay that kind of loyalty? He ended up leaving that man alone for thirteen years.

There can be no other.

These words, Lan Zhan had said to him. His singular devotion to a man with amnesia. No…no, that isn't right. Lan Zhan loves Wei Ying. Not Mo XuanYu. Not this shell of a half man with a Swiss cheese memory. He's just a shadow of the person he used to be.

Mo XuanYu stumbles into his room full of self hatred. 

His headache increases as if recognising where it began, and for once, Mo XuanYu seeks no respite from it. He pulls the sheet off the bed and wraps it around him, dragging himself to the chair instead. His head throbs and each pulsating echo of pain is welcomed. This is your fault, he tells himself. Feel each nuance of pain and suffer through it because you caused that man downstairs his pain. For every tear he's shed tonight, and for every time he cried during the past thirteen years, you will acknowledge that and take responsibility for his suffering. 

He curls up on the chair, trying to make himself smaller. And he cries.

It wasn't just Lan Zhan that he hurt with his actions. SiZhui, too. 

He remembers the little boy looking up at Wei WuXian with such bright eyes, those chubby cheeks full and smiling as he laughed, clinging to the leg of a parent that would end up leaving him. His heart shatters again and again. 

Thirteen years of missed birthdays, of his absence at key moments in their lives. Watching A-Yuan grow up, go to school, meet new friends, pass his exams, his little Radish…where had that thought come from? How could he have missed his sweet little Bun having his first crush on someone? If that ever happened. Wei WuXian missed SiZhui graduating from high school. Countless celebratory dinners, making breakfast for their son…well, that would probably have been Lan Zhan anyway, but still! 

Lan Zhan had to do everything by himself. He said that the band helped him, but Mo XuanYu knows him a little by now. Lan Zhan would have done everything he could for A-Yuan. He said that their little boy cried every night for his Baba.

Mo XuanYu hides his face in the armrest, thoroughly hating himself. He cries even harder, hoping no one hears him because this outpouring of his grief is necessary. He must understand that all actions have consequences, and that his own ones had the worst. It's a miracle that Lan Zhan doesn't hate him too.

Tired and beyond exhausted, Mo XuanYu falls asleep right there.

*****************

The next morning Mo XuanYu wakes up with crusty eyes and creases on his cheek, wedged into the corner of the armchair, and immediately, the memories of last night smash through his consciousness like a freight train. The room looks exactly as it did last night before he found out the extent of his crimes. Seeing Lan Zhan like that, so hopeless and heartbroken, it makes his eyes wet just thinking about it.

He sits up, huddling inside the sheet and knowing that the cold won't go away by itself. But he must face this day like Lan Zhan has been doing all this time, with unflinching honesty.

There is nothing Mo XuanYu can do about the past; this thought hurts him the most. If he could go back in time and stop himself from making that huge mistake, he would do whatever it takes in a blink. But the awful truth is that it's wishful thinking. No talisman, no array, no genie can whisk him back to that fateful moment in time.

So that leaves him with the future.

Until Wei WuXian comes back, until his memories are restored, and there's no guarantee that they will be, what can Mo XuanYu do?

He ponders this as he rises from the chair.

Thankfully, the worst of the migraine has receded and only the faint echoes of the pain remain. A few painkillers will sort that out. He won't let himself suffer either, because what happened all those years ago, isn't just his fault: the blame lies with others who are just as culpable. Wei WuXian went to the meeting but he shouldn't have gone at all, that's on him. But all the others in that room, they're even more guilty. Mo XuanYu can help Mianmian and her boss by trying to remember who they were.

That's one thing.

He walks into a hot shower, the temperature scalding enough to burn his skin, and Mo XuanYu feels like a phoenix rising from the ashes of his past. As he washes away any residual fatigue from the night before, he starts feeling angry.

Who had the right to do this to him? Who had the right to steal him away from a person who loved him unconditionally? To steal him away from his son? His family and the band? All the people who did it should be punished, that's for sure.

The second part of his resolve begins with Lan Zhan. 

Family is important to him and right now, his is fractured. For Lan Zhan, SiZhui isn't here, Wei WuXian is technically still missing and his uncle Qiren is angry and afraid. It doesn't matter that his outrage is on Lan Zhan’s behalf when Lan Zhan doesn't want him to feel that way…and this is something Mo XuanYu can fix. As the light bulb goes off in his head, Mo XuanYu makes a deal with himself. 

He can mend some of the things that are broken. He can be the gold that glues together the porcelain pieces of a bowl, just like Lan Zhan’s Kintsugi key-holding vessel. He can be the change that matters.

As he gets dressed for the day, wearing a deep red long sleeved t-shirt and a matching turtleneck jumper over smarter trousers with no holes in sight, he takes one last look in the full length mirror. Whoever Mianmian’s boss is, he knows what he's doing. Mo XuanYu looks dressed to kill, and today, he's going to do exactly that.

********************

Lan Zhan is in the kitchen when Mo XuanYu goes downstairs, a little before eight. His eyes widen when he takes in his appearance, and Mo XuanYu bites his lip trying not to grin. His efforts paid off then. But his amusement disappears in a flash when he looks at Lan Zhan. Really looks at him properly.

“Are you alright, Lan Zhan?” He asks, because he has an idea of what is wrong, since he had a front row seat last night. However, he can't say anything about it, or offer any comfort because that would be crossing a boundary when Lan Zhan had no idea he was seen.

There are dark shadows under Lan Zhan’s eyes as if he hasn't slept at all, and he's far too pale, even more than usual. His movements too, aren't as graceful as always, just that tiny bit stiffer and clunky.

“Why are your eyes red?” Lan Zhan demands, scrutinising him.

“I asked first.”

“I had trouble sleeping,” Lan Zhan replies. “But your eyes? Do you have an allergy to something? Or…are you upset?” 

It's far too close to the truth and Mo XuanYu can't tell him that for obvious reasons, so he gives him partial honesty.

“Sometimes they get like that after a migraine. I think I had one last night but I managed to fall asleep anyway.”

“Are you in any pain now? Perhaps we should postpone the yoga time until you're feeling better.”

Wei Ying brightens up so fast, Lan Zhan narrows his eyes at him, doubting his excuse. “You have to ease me into any form of exercise, Gege.”

They both freeze.

Wei Ying recovers first, and of course, he ends up choking on his spit. “Ah, sorry, sorry, Lan Zhan. Too familiar, huh?”

“No. That's what Wei Ying used to call me. No need to apologise.” His ears give him away as he hands Mo XuanYu plates of food to set the table. 

This morning, he cooked rice and scallion pancakes with a Japanese style curry. Mo XuanYu helps himself to an array of chilli sauce and oil, putting them closer to himself. As they begin to eat with Lan Zhan’s customary silence, he starts thinking about the best way to hatch his plan.

See, the thing is, Lan Zhan is super protective of both Wei WuXian and Mo XuanYu. He's already very politely told his uncle to fuck off, which, while it was entertaining, has made Mo XuanYu's job a bit harder. Okay, he knows he's the problem, coming between an uncle and a nephew with his own predicament. But still, he wants Lan Zhan to have a support network because of the family backbone of his heritage - before Wei WuXian came along, Lan Zhan was a happy bunny living his best life with his brother and his uncle. ‘Happy’ might be a stretch, but work with him here. Definitely happy-er with the arrival of his one true love, and then with his absence, it was a nose dive into Hell. If this was a graph depiction of the life and times of Lan Zhan, the degrees of the angles and sharpness of the inclines would be s-e-v-e-r-e.

Mo XuanYu doesn't want to be the wedge between them. Lan Zhan doesn't seem like his relationship with his brother has been repaired, which is sad and Mo XuanYu is definitely going to be asking him some questions about that, but he thinks he can mend the tear between Uncle Qiren and Lan Zhan a little. Well, perhaps that's being optimistic, but he'll give it a go. Never say never and all that.

But for this to be a success, Lan Zhan can't be there. He's too much of a protective hot head when it comes to anything he doesn't like and Mo XuanYu doesn't want to risk further alienating Old Man Lan. 

“What's the plan for today?” He asks Lan Zhan casually, as if he isn't thinking up a crime (it will be, according to Lan Zhan).

“We could go shopping. We need groceries, and we could visit the stationery supplies place. Their arts and crafts section is good.” Lan Zhan begins clearing away the dishes off the table.

“Nice. And er, does your uncle visit the library every day?”

Lan Zhan looks up instantly, his gaze sharp.

Uh oh…that was too much, right? Mo XuanYu backtracks immediately. “Er, just in case I want to avoid him,” and that isn't an actual lie.

“Officially, he's retired now. However, he stays at home most afternoons. The library should be safe, if you want to visit.” Lan Zhan relaxes, putting on those absurdly hot yellow washing up gloves.

Right, so then that can mean Mo XuanYu has two opportunities to bring Lan Qiren onto Lan Zhan’s side. He starts wiping up with the jigsaw puzzle plan coming together nicely. 

*****************

Grocery shopping is fun, Mo XuanYu thinks, as he puts his favourite snacks back inside the cart. Lan Zhan is fun, and this activity is amusing because whenever Mo XuanYu finds something unhealthy and terribly bad for his body but extremely good for his mind (and tongue), he tosses it into the cart, only to have it disappear just as quickly by a nimble-fingered health freak. This is actually good because the first part of Mo XuanYu's plan depends on some very important missing ingredients. 

Lan Zhan selects some dumpling wrappers and bean sprouts, assorted fresh fruit and vegetables, and then asks Mo XuanYu on his preference for meat, which is a kindness he hadn't been expecting. 

“If you're uncomfortable making it, I don't mind,” Mo XuanYu offers, though the thought of not eating any kind of meat is a little bit frightening. He's willing to try though.

“No need. I used to cook for Wei Ying. It's no trouble, and you should feel comfortable while you're living in the Jingshi.”

And that's the end of that subject. 

Then, all Mo XuanYu has to do is wait until Lan Zhan is distracted by fresh green pak choy, and he manages to hide the dumpling wrappers in among the oranges not in the cart, but back in the supermarket trough. This is a fundamental part of The Plan. He hopes Lan Zhan won't notice when they're at the checkout.

Lan Zhan doesn't notice due to a well-timed distraction (Mo XuanYu had no idea how creative he could get, but apparently, motivation is a key element there), and they load up the car with bags of food minus the Very Important Dumpling Wrappers. Lan Zhan is a kind tyrant who let Mo XuanYu have some of the snacks he wanted, so it's all good except for the fact that Mo XuanYu didn't expect to feel guilty for deceiving Lan Zhan at all. He tries to make himself feel better by reminding himself that he's doing it for Lan Zhan in the first place.

It doesn't work. 

Lan Zhan distracts him by opening the door to a fantastic, wondrous maze of aisles, all filled with stickers, colourful paper and so many varieties of it, different thicknesses, marbled, rainbowed, textured, everything he could think of, it was there.

Then, they find a whole section of crayons, felt tips, pens, pencils - coloured and plain shades of grey with varying gradients, chalk, oil paints and water colours. Mo XuanYu learns quickly not to stare at anything for too long because Lan Zhan promptly puts it in their cart (yes, they have a fucking cart, even here because Lan Zhan insisted), and there's no way to stop it.

“I like buying them,” Lan Zhan replies after too much protesting, and it doesn't help at all with the added guilt trip in Mo XuanYu's head. 

They return to the Cloud Recesses with a loaded car, having eaten at a restaurant because it was close to lunchtime. When they get home, Mo XuanYu waits for what he thinks is a reasonable amount of time spent washing and putting away the produce, and restocking the larder, and then he says in a loud voice, “Oh! Where are the wrappers? I could've sworn you bought some.” He tries to be less dramatic about them.

Lan Zhan’s brows furrow and he refrains from answering. He goes through all the bags again, even to the extent of examining the empty ones, shaking them out to hopefully find them. He even digs the receipt out from the trashcan to go through each item.

“They're not on here.” He says that in disbelief. 

“Oh, that's a shame,” Mo XuanYu says, pouting. “I was really looking forward to making them this evening. But that's okay, we can have something else, right?” This part is a gamble. Lan Zhan could agree with him, and that might delay The Plan. 

“No. I was looking forward to dumplings, too. Let's go back.” Lan Zhan starts walking towards the door.

“Um, actually, would you mind if I stayed here? I'm rather tired and my head hurts.” Only the first part is true, but Lan Zhan doesn't need to know that.

However, Mo XuanYu isn't at all prepared for Lan Zhan to stride up to him and press the back of his lovely hand against his forehead, to have the heavenly scent of sandalwood, a fragrance Mo XuanYu has resolutely gotten used to being synonymous with the gorgeous golden-eyed man in front of him, currently sporting a concerned gaze.

“You don't have a temperature. But I can stay.” He decides that by himself. 

“NO! I mean,” he lowers his voice, wrapping his own fingers around Lan Zhan’s wrist and bringing his hand away. “I'm okay, I think just lying down for a bit will help. You can go.” He says that helpfully, and then adds, “Dumplings.”

“Mn.” Lan Zhan visibly wavers like he can't decide what to do. 

“I'll just be lying down, I won't even know if you're here or not,” Mo XuanYu tells him, injecting as much sincerity into his words as he can. Then he takes three fingers and points up towards the heavens and down towards the earth, and then touches the side of his temple. “I promise.”

The strangest look passes over Lan Zhan’s face as he stares back, unmoving for a few moments, as if he can't believe what Mo XuanYu just did. Then he says, “Please, rest. I'll be back soon.”

Mo XuanYu goes to his room in case Lan Zhan decides to come back - he's seen enough films to know that this is a thing, and then he watches from behind the thick curtains, Lan Zhan’s car driving past. He knows it will take Lan Zhan around twenty minutes to drive to town, about ten minutes to locate and pay for the dumpling wrappers, and a further twenty minutes to return. That's an hour tops give or take, accounting for red lights and traffic. He races downstairs and on a second thought, writes out a note just in case Lan Zhan returns early and checks up on him.

“Lan Zhan! I've gone for a walk! Be back in half an hour!” And he adds two bunnies with a heart between them, cosying up to one another. He's not going to think about that part. He looks around for a paperweight so the note doesn't blow off the counter, and decides on his chilli sauce bottle.

Then he's racing off towards the door, changing his shoes and leaving the Jingshi.

It's only when he's outside, he realises he has no keys to get back inside. 

***************

Mo XuanYu falters on the steps of Uncle Qiren's house, shivering because he forgot his coat, and also because no keys meant no going back inside. Oh well, in for a penny and in for a pound. He knocks on the door with a confidence that hides his nerves - he absolutely cannot fuck this up.

The door opens and Uncle Qiren scowls and tries to shut it, but Mo XuanYu luckily anticipated this reaction and stuck his foot in the way, thereby preventing the abortion of his manoeuvre. 

“Wait!” He shouts and then realises that that's not helping his Win-Uncle-Qiren-Over agenda. At a lower volume, he quickly says, “Please give me a chance to prove that I'm not lying to you. Lan Zhan isn't with me and he needs you!” Oh, damn, with Lan Qiren's eyes widening in shock, Mo XuanYu realises horribly that he thinks Lan Zhan is in trouble, and that's not it! “Like, not right now! It's not a medical emergency! But like, because you're his uncle, and he misses you and family is important to him, and he doesn't even have his brother at the moment!” All of that in one breath. Given that Mo XuanYu is kind of hopping about trying to stay warm isn't helping, but something about everything he's done since he got here must have helped his case, because Uncle Qiren grudgingly holds his door open.

There's no welcome, no pleasantries, just Lan Qiren stomping off into his kitchen. Of course, Mo XuanYu slides his throbbing foot into the slippers and hastens after him.

“Look, I get it,” he says as soon as he sees Lan Qiren bustling around the counter to fill his kettle with water. “Why would you believe me, right? I'm a nobody with a crazy story and I bet you think I'm taking advantage of your nephew. The thing is, I really don't care what you think about me, but please, please, don't let that get in the way of you and Lan Zhan. He doesn't have anybody else. Except SiZhui.” Then he thinks about it. “Oh, and the band. Okay, he has some people, but that's so not the point! He has only one uncle, and you both can't be fighting because of me!”

Lan Qiren turns around. He's still glaring but the voltage of his scowl is significantly less.

“Do you know what happened to WangJi the first time you left? You broke him.”

What can Mo XuanYu say to that? He has no defence but to listen to him. 

“And now you come back spinning tales of ridiculous notions and villainous deeds, expecting that I will take you at your word.” His voice is scathing. “WangJi was a good child before he met you.” He reaches for the tea caddy and puts two bags, one each, inside two mugs. “He was a good child,” Lan Qiren repeats, “but he wasn't happy. Don't cry.”

Oh.

Mo XuanYu wipes at his face with his sleeve and his eyes are blurry but he takes the kitchen towel offered to him.

“I'm not lying,” he whispers, when he can see Lan Qiren clearly. “Give me your hand, please?”

It's the pause that does it. Mo XuanYu knows this is his last chance. He can be relentless, but ultimately Lan Qiren can choose not to believe him. So just when he's resigned about this, he's shocked to find Lan Qiren offering what he wants. Mo XuanYu takes his hand and locates the place on his head where the scar is. He sees the exact moment when Lan Qiren feels it, the ridge of bumpy tissue healed badly because he and Luo QingYang were on the run. Whatever the Spectre hit him with, it left a long nasty wound back then.

Lan Qiren's face is shocked, and he quietly withdraws his hand from Mo XuanYu's grasp. He turns back to the kettle and as soon as it whistles, he closes the switch to cut off the electricity and pours out the steaming water into both of the mugs.

“Sit.” He orders, putting them on the table where there are two chairs. 

Mo XuanYu dare not disobey. He watches Lan Qiren as he takes two plates and sets them on the table next to their mugs. The fragrance of lemon and ginger, refreshing and spicy, fills the air. Uncle Qiren brings out a jar of osmanthus cakes and puts two on Mo XuanYu's plate.

“You will tell me everything about yourself from the beginning, leaving nothing out.”

What is it about these Lan men and their commanding natures, that trademark piercing stare? Mo XuanYu feels compelled to do exactly as he's been told.

“So…

*******************

An hour and forty minutes later, Lan Qiren begins asking him questions. So far, they've shared three cups of tea and way too many cakes, and Mo XuanYu is fairly confident that he's been forgiven by now but honestly, the old man is as inscrutable as they come so it could be fifty-fifty.

“Ah, I should really be getting back,” he says, standing up. “I had to sort of lie to Lan Zhan so I could come and talk to you. Would you happen to have a spare set of keys? You know, for the Jingshi?”

Uncle Qiren is about to answer when there's frantic knocking on his door and Mo XuanYu follows him there, getting the feeling he knows who is behind the door.

“Uncle! Have you seen–” Lan Zhan looks dishevelled and upset, propriety forgotten as his wild eyes drift past his relative towards Mo XuanYu, and he pushes past his uncle straight to Mo XuanYu, wrapping him up in a fierce hug.

Mo XuanYu hugs him back, relief slamming into him, and knowing Lan Zhan’s good thoughts are going to evaporate as soon as the truth comes out. He glances at Uncle Qiren, who rolls his eyes, quietly shuts his door and walks past them. “You need to get him keys to your home.” He retreats out of sight into the kitchen, leaving the two of them there.

Still hugging.

Lan Zhan gives good hugs, and Mo XuanYu absorbs this feeling as fully as he can because the likelihood of it happening again is probably extinct. Still, even if Lan Zhan gets angry at him, it'll be worth it if he gets to have his uncle again. 

“I have a confession to make,” Mo XuanYu says, when it feels like Lan Zhan isn't ever going to let go of him.

“Mn. I got your note. I waited. Then I could not.”

“So…about that…would you be really upset with me if I said that-I-put-the-dumpling-wrappers-back-on-purpose-so-that-you-would-have-to-go-back-and-get-more-for-reasons? Because I can totally not say that and we can still be cool.”

To his surprise, Lan Zhan laughs.

In fact, Mo XuanYu has to lean back to make sure. Yep, Lan Zhan is definitely laughing. It's such a beautiful sight, it makes Mo XuanYu smile back, feeling so much lighter. Lying takes a great deal out of you, it seems.

“I found the wrappers with the oranges.” Lan Zhan finally says. “So I guessed that you had done it, but I did not know why. Then, when you weren't at home, and you didn't lie down like you said you were going to, I knew it was contrived. But worry for your whereabouts overcame anything else. I waited for you, imagining all sorts of terrible things, from falling off the mountain to goons kidnapping you.” That admission comes with pink ears. “Then I thought Uncle might know. So I came here.”

“Well, guess what?” Mo XuanYu says, winking and taking his hand. He continues, not waiting for Lan Zhan to actually guess. “Your Uncle is a smart cookie and look what we came up with.” 

He brings Lan Zhan into the kitchen where the sink is full of dishes yet to be washed, and the chairs have been pushed back from the table that looks too small to hold the clutter of strewn papers with lots of writing.

“What is this?”

*****************

A/N

Dear Beautiful Readers, 

Yep, it's cliffhanger time! Actually, I wanted to post this yesterday but we had another family emergency. Don't worry, everything is okay now, but writing was hard and I was distracted. But onwards and upwards, as they say. Are you excited? I'm so pumped for the next chapter!!

All my love,

Charlie

🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫

Chapter Text

Mo XuanYu looks at Uncle Qiren expectantly, after Lan Zhan poses his question. 

It's just a blank wall. Uncle Qiren has absolutely no intention of explaining what they've done this afternoon. 

“Fiiinnneee! Okay, look, we came up with a list.” Mo XuanYu explains, pulling Lan Zhan closer. To point at the specific piece of paper, he has to let go of Lan Zhan’s hand and he hates that, but then Lan Zhan wraps an arm around his waist and that's so much better. He suppresses a shiver and continues. “See, we know Wen Chao, Wen Xu and Wen Ruohan are incarcerated. But what happened to Zhao Zhuliu, the Spectre? If he was the fixer for the Wens, where is he? There are other key figures that make up a list of suspects. Your Uncle said, very brilliantly, that if one thought about their motives, it would be easier to see who could have been mystery person number three. With us so far?” He looks up and finds Lan Zhan so much closer.

He can see the way his thick lashes provide a feathery canopy for his beautiful golden eyes, so wonderfully expressive when he wants to be. Mo XuanYu has experienced them to be warm like sunlight over a frozen pond, fiery like the centre of a volcano, and freezing with his anger ready to dish out cold burns with just a glare. Yet right now, they're softer than a cloud of golden glitter.

“Mn.”

“Before we go any further,” Lan Qiren says, going to brew more hot water for tea, “I would like to offer my apology. I misjudged both of you, and jumped to unproven conclusions, and to my shame, I voiced biased opinions which had no merit. Will you be staying for dinner?”

“Apology accepted?”

It takes Mo XuanYu a few seconds to realise that it's a question and that Lan Zhan is asking him. He gapes back, and quickly recovers. “Lan Zhan! Of course! Everyone makes mistakes, okay? And he's asking you, not me!”

“We are a team. Together or nothing. Uncle must show the same treatment to us equally.” Lan Zhan isn't going to budge on this. “And I cannot forgive him if you do not. It's as simple as that.”

“Then yes! Apology accepted already! You, too!” Mo XuanYu clicks his tongue, annoyed at the pettiness in his favourite person when they've got bigger fish to fry.

“Thank you,” Lan Qiren says, this time barely refraining from rolling his eyes again. There's a hint of sarcasm.

“Are you aware of everything that's written down here?” Lan Zhan gestures towards the table and its contents. 

“I wrote most of it myself!” Uncle Qiren huffs in protest, like, what is he saying? His own nephew!

Lan Zhan gathers the pages neatly into a pile and takes Mo XuanYu's hand in his. “Then, I am sure Mo XuanYu will explain everything to me at home. We have plans.”

“We do?” Mo XuanYu asks, as Lan Zhan bows the most perfunctory bow in the Lan family history of bowing, and then they leave. “Lan Zhan? What plans?” he asks breathlessly because Lan Zhan is in an awful hurry, and he's having to jog just to keep up with his stride.

“Dumplings.”

When they reach inside the Jingshi, for a second, Lan Zhan stares at the keys in his hand after he's unlocked the door.

“Hey, on the subject of keys, and this might be a bit random because I don't want to make you remember something you don't want to, but did Wei WuXian have his own keys to your home?” Mo XuanYu licks his lips because they're dry. He's never walked so fast in such a short distance, in his life.

“Yes. He took them with him that night because he thought he would return after nine and he didn't want to wake me. They've never been recovered.” Lan Zhan tosses his into the Kintsugi bowl. “Why?”

“Well, this is just a theory, but do you think whoever hurt him, before they were gonna dump his body, do you think they might have searched him? Taken anything incriminating off him? I'm just guessing this because the keys must be somewhere, and I clearly remember there was nothing in my pockets when I woke up. I only looked and felt around because I saw Mo XuanYu's ID card and thought it was mine. Speaking of which, I was thinking about him before. The real Mo XuanYu. Do you think we might be able to find out where they've buried him? I want to pay my respects to him…seeing as he's kept me alive all this time.” It's a sobering thought, and Mo XuanYu knows he's looking too hopefully at Lan Zhan about this.

Lan Zhan picks up his keys again, this time taking Mo XuanYu's hand and putting them in the centre of his palm. There's an assortment of keys, large and small, in different shapes, but nestled in among them is an enamel black bunny with a red ribbon keychain. 

“Is that Bean? It's so cute!”

“Mn. Wei Ying got us a matching set. His key ring has Tofu. Also missing.” He frowns. “Why did you say you didn't want to remind me of something I don't want to remember? Do you mean Wei Ying?”

Mo XuanYu looks everywhere except at Lan Zhan. He can't forget about Lan Zhan’s grief. Seeing him the way he was last night has thrown each of his current actions into a new perspective. It's hard to accept that his actions have consequences that are not what he intended. “I don't know what's better: being able to forget a source of pain, or being made to relive it. I don't want to cause you any of it, if I can help it.”

Lan Zhan puts his keys back and then plants his hands on Mo XuanYu's shoulders. The warmth and weight of them are grounding, and Mo XuanYu just feels safe because of him.

“Mo XuanYu, do you know something?” His eyes are infinitely kind, gentle as though he is calming a skittish colt. “It doesn't matter to me what you call yourself. Whether it is Mo XuanYu, or Wei Ying, or Wei WuXian, or even another name entirely. To me, there is no difference between the man I fell in love with and you. But I respect you. I understand that it's hard to reconcile two separate worlds, two separate identities when one is impossible to remember. And I will wait for you to be ready, no matter how long it takes. Okay?”

Mo XuanYu's eyes close by themselves and he feels Lan Zhan leaning forward to place the softest kiss on his forehead. Tears leak from the corners of his eyes, and then the tenderest touch wipes them away. Lan Zhan lets go of him and walks past into the kitchen.

For a few moments, Mo XuanYu lets his words sink in. Lan Zhan doesn't care who he is. That feeling of being seen, this person with nothing except confusion and worry over who he is, and still being loved despite this situation, it's kind of freeing. To know that no matter how long and deep the dark tunnel of not knowing is, Lan Zhan is waiting for him on the other side. His safety net. There to catch him when he's ready to take the leap.

Mo XuanYu smiles, hugging himself. It's good to know.

He turns and follows Lan Zhan into the kitchen. Lan Zhan is just finishing wiping his hands after washing them, so Mo XuanYu does the same, expecting to help with the dumplings, but to his amazement, there are already two separate plates with them ready to steam.

“You made them already?”

“While I was waiting for you to come back from your walk.” His adorable ears are getting pink and Mo XuanYu is delighted.

“Why two plates?”

“Veg and meat.” 

Oh god, Mo XuanYu wants to kiss him. Lan Zhan directs him to sit at the breakfast bar before he can make a fool out of himself, and he promptly sits on his hands in case they reach for the wonderful, considerate waking dream of a man in front of him by themselves. Thank goodness Lan Zhan has put the pile of his and Lan Qiren's hard thought process papers here; it's enough to get him back on track. 

“Talk me through that,” Lan Zhan says, reaching up high with his back towards him, to get the bamboo steaming containers from the top shelf next to the sink.

It's hard to drag his eyes away from the ridges of hard muscles bunching as Lan Zhan fills the vessel with water and places it on top of the stove. He bends to check the flame and Mo XuanYu is mesmerised, wondering how strong he really is. All those hours stretching and doing yoga have really paid off. If Lan Zhan brings it up again, it might not be a bad idea to wake up early if he gets to see THAT in action. 

Lan Zhan snaps his fingers in front of Mo XuanYu's face, drawing him out of his dazed reverie. There's a smirk on his face and Mo XuanYu is definitely not going to think about why.

“Talk.”

Said in such a commanding way, Mo XuanYu shivers before he takes another look at Lan Qiren's neat handwriting. The man had tutted at his chicken scratch characters and snatched the pen out of his fingers, personally affronted by Mo XuanYu's attempt to record their theories. Mo XuanYu didn't mind at all, not when what he's looking at now is a piece of calligraphical artwork. 

“Okay, so as I was saying earlier, your uncle is a genius when it comes to thinking about how people operate. Has he dabbled in psychology?”

“Mn.”

“That explains it. See, he pointed out that people always, ALWAYS have a reason to do something. Once you find that, it becomes easier to see who did what. Kind of like working your way back from an event or a certain situation. If you pull hard enough on a loose thread, the whole jumper unravels. 

“Now, isn't it interesting that the Spectre has vanished? Everyone knew back then that Zhao Zhuliu worked for the Wens, and so shouldn't he have already been arrested and tried for his crimes? So that means either he's dead, or someone is hiding him. He's hot property, someone too important for all the dirt he has on countless people. If Wen Ruohan had Zhao Zhuliu constantly with him, just think about how much he knows about all the dirty fingers in all the dirty pies. So it stands to reason that someone in a powerful position is keeping him safe, like using an ace card at a crucial time. That means he's still valuable, that if he came out into the open, his life would be in danger because of all the people he could bring down with him.

“Next is Jin GuangYao. Previously known as Meng Yao, illegitimate son of Jin Guangshan and Meng Shi, a street walking lady.” Mo XuanYu ignores Lan Zhan who is hiding his smile at that. He purposefully did not use the cruder version of her occupation. “So Jin Guangshan allegedly killed himself, jumping off the roof of Koi Tower. Mianmian knew him well and said that he'd never do that, at least, not without “help”.” He uses one hand to mimic speechmarks. “She also said that her team found connections between the Jin Conglomerate and Nightless City Corporation, funds changing hands, but not enough to prove anything in court.”

“Hold on.” Lan Zhan wipes his hands (elegant and long fingered) on a dish towel and walks out of the kitchen. He's back soon, and he's brought his laptop with him. He opens up the lid after putting it in front of them, sitting down close to Mo XuanYu's stool. It isn't close enough apparently, because he grabs the seat and carefully yanks Mo XuanYu so close, their thighs touch and all that delicious heat warms Mo XuanYu's cheeks as he resolutely stares at the screen. “Let's put names to faces.” He's just about to type when Mo XuanYu covers his hand to stop him.

“Wait! Go into Incognito mode first. We don't want to trip any hot words. Criminals keep an eye on stuff like that.”

“Mn.” Lan Zhan does exactly that and then asks him, “How do you know that?”

Mo XuanYu scratches the side of his head. “Um…not sure? How DO I know that?”

But as Lan Zhan types in Meng Yao’s name, their attention swings onto the pictures that pop up on the screen.

Jin GuangYao is a short man, at least a foot smaller than the people surrounding him. All the pictures are of a smartly dressed, confident young man as he ages through the years, sweet of smile while a calculating expression lurks in his eyes. He is almost delicate of stature, but his strength is also there, hidden in his upright stance. This is a man who is used to giving orders and seeing them carried out. His two dimples give the impression of a harmless hardworking man who aims to please.

But appearances can be and usually are deceiving. 

“Look, he always seems to have these two people around him–” Mo XuanYu points to them, but he realises that Lan Zhan has gone unnaturally silent. “Lan Zhan?”

He's coiled tightly like a spring about to explode. His hands are gripping the counter like a lifeline. Mo XuanYu follows his line of sight and then he gets it.

“Isn't that your brother? XiChen-Ge?”

“Mn.”

“Why is he hanging around that slimeball?”

“I don't know.” Lan Zhan’s fingers furiously type out his brother's name.

“He's a consultant? For the fucking Jins?? When did that happen?” Mo XuanYu shrieks, too shocked to keep his voice down.

“I don't know,” Lan Zhan repeats, only this time, he sounds frustrated and upset.

“There must be a reason, right? Maybe he doesn't know about them.”

Lan Zhan throws him a disbelieving incredulous look.

“Okay, fine, I know that's lame, but you have to admit, it's questionable, yes, and we really shouldn't jump to conclusions. We have to ask him outright, so there are no misunderstandings.” Mo XuanYu slumps in his seat. 

He's looking at the images underneath the brief history that the search engine has provided. In all the pictures, some of them contain Jin GuangYao in the background, but not too close to him. 

“I haven't talked to Ge in a long time.”

Mo XuanYu's gaze flickers towards him. “How long exactly?”

“Fourteen years.”

Fourteen years? Mo XuanYu starts calculating backwards. Thirteen years ago, Wei WuXian went missing. That means Lan Zhan stopped talking to his brother a year before that. Didn't he say that his family was against the band, and specifically Lan Zhan, dropping out of university? That they blamed Wei WuXian for Lan Zhan’s ill-timed rebellion?

“Why?” He asks softly, aware that this affects Lan Zhan deeply.

“Ge did not like how I felt about Wei Ying. He called it an infatuation. He begged me to step away and see things clearly, but I told him that he was the one who wasn't doing that. He didn't believe me and stopped answering my calls, ignoring my messages, even after we both should have calmed down. Perhaps…perhaps my actions made him look for solace elsewhere.”

“Oh no, mister!” Mo XuanYu sits up straight away, like a steel rod has been shoved up his back. “You do not get to blame yourself for his actions! That's absolutely NOT allowed. He's a grown adult who should have known what he was getting into. Ugh, that just sounds ew. Let me rephrase, he should have known what he was doing.”

“Who.”

“Huh?”

“Who he was doing. Might still be doing.” Lan Zhan makes a distasteful face,  looking a little green. With both hands, he scrubs his face, willing the images away from his mind.

“Okay, so we can't trust him at the moment, not until we get some answers.” Mo XuanYu grabs a pen from the holder on the side and jots his name down with an arrow pointing to Jin GuangYao's name. “We can ask your uncle about him tomorrow.”

“Mn.”

“Okay, before that frankly, huge revelation, I noticed these two faces who always seem to be hanging around our main bad guy.” Mo XuanYu fishes his own phone out of his back pocket and presses the button on the screen to scan an image. The results pop up immediately. “Su Minshan? And Xue Yang? Who's he?” Mo XuanYu thinks back over everything he knows, everything Mianmian told him so far. He taps his nose, letting the familiarity of it ground his own thoughts. “Mianmian said, on the night Wei WuXian was going to meet with the Wens, he told his friend about the meeting. Nie Huaisang. His friend made him wear a wire, which by the way, she said nothing about, so it must have been removed. I'm gonna take a leap and say if we ever find his things, it'll be sure to be there. Mianmian also said that this Su Minshan is one of their suspects, regarding the mysterious Man Number Three.”

“Mn. Wen Chao was there, the Spectre, and a third person wearing a piece of clothing with a golden sleeve. Jin ZiXun was also a suspect, but he died a few days ago.”

Mo XuanYu puts a cross next to his name. “Mianmian said he died of natural causes, right?”

“Mn. Choked on his own vomit and died of asphyxiation.”

“Are we suspicious of that?”

“Put a question mark. We don't know all the facts.”

“Done. Now, type in Xue Yang? Let's see what it comes up with.” Mo XuanYu leans closer.

For the first time in ages he feels like this is finally some kind of progress in unravelling the Great Mystery of his past. Even if he can't remember specifics, this feels real as if they're on the right track.

“That's strange.” Lan Zhan murmurs, typing the name in again.

The screen remains blank underneath the name.

“Wow. How is that possible? Unless…this is deliberate. Someone must have wiped any information about him away. I'd say that was more suspicious than if we HAD found something incriminating.” Mo XuanYu taps the pen down on the papers a few times. He turns one around and writes Jin GuangYao's name down, drawing a circle around it. Then he draws lines from that circle protruding outwards. The names of all the people they've mentioned so far are written systematically around his name, all connected to that circle.

Lan Zhan stands up and prepares a dipping sauce of soy and sesame oil, seasoned with a few spices. He turns the stove off and removes the lid of the steamer.

“It's dinner time.”

*****************

With mugs of steaming jasmine tea, they regroup in the lounge again. The peaceful silence is nice, a pleasant interlude before they get down to business.

“Did you carry me upstairs last night?” Mo XuanYu asks, and he's blushing even before he finishes the question. 

Lan Zhan actually smiles at him. It's not the smirk, this is something much softer. “Mn.”

“How strong are you?” Mo XuanYu sits up from his slouch, eyeing his biceps.

Lan Zhan refuses to answer, rolling his eyes.

“Nevermind, we can test that out later.” Mo XuanYu misses the way Lan Zhan’s face whips around to stare at him, because his attention has fallen on the pages they've brought from the kitchen with them. “The way I see it, Jin GuangYao had the most to gain by everything happening. The death of his awful dad, the possible death of his sibling, Mo XuanYu, the disappearance of the legitimate heir, Jin ZiXuan, plus the fact that his main competition, the Wens, were put away means he is somehow central to everything.”

Lan Zhan clears his throat and adds to that, “We need to find out who this Xue Yang is. Also, what happened to Zhao Zhuliu. Having him in an unknown category is concerning.”

“You know what I keep thinking about?” Mo XuanYu muses. “It's the fact that someone out there knows I'm not Mo XuanYu. Mianmian said someone tried to kill him, right? So if I'm parading around like a dead man, and I'm obviously still alive, why has no one done anything to me?”

“I think it is related to your memory loss. Have you met with anyone at all during the last thirteen years who asked you questions? Or tried to find out about you in any way?”

“That's such a long period of time, Lan Zhan. It'd be hard to pinpoint exactly. And the worst part is, the bad guys wouldn't even need to do it themselves. They could send a nobody and I'd never know it. That's even worse, the vulnerability. I'm alright,” he adds with a smile, remembering the previous panic attack he'd suffered about this same issue. “I feel safer now. With you, and there's Old Man Lan, plus Mianmian doing her undercover shit. That had to be the major shocker! Who knew she's in some kind of special ops taskforce? I never ever twigged.” He shakes his head in disbelief. 

“Luo QingYang also raised some important questions of her own. The most important one being, do we know if the person who killed Mo XuanYu was the same one who killed Wei WuXian, or thought they did?” Lan Zhan takes his empty mug and puts it on the coffee table.

“I got another one. If Wei WuXian was killed in the Nightless City Corporation building, how and why had he ended up in the Koi Tower basement? They're miles apart! Wouldn't someone have seen the thugs carrying me from one place to another?”

“Underground parking would explain that part of how they got away with it. But it is a valid question as to why they brought you over to Lanling. Do you think the Jins were helping the Wens with more than just the money part? Disposing of bodies too? Even if Jin Guangshan was in charge then, I do not believe that Jin GuangYao did not know or wasn't aware of the fact. Then I must question my brother about this. I cannot believe he would still be working for the Jins if he knows, and if that's the case, then I won't hold back. The authorities and Uncle must be informed.” Lan Zhan is upset and Mo XuanYu can see how he's trying to not let it show.

“He might not know,” Mo XuanYu says. “I don't know him, but you do. I think it's only fair to give him a chance to explain himself. When are you thinking about doing this?”

“As soon as possible. But there's a chance that he won't come alone, depending on how close he is with Jin GuangYao. There's also the chance that he won't come at all, because we haven't spoken in so long. Another variable is if he doesn't believe us.”

“There's something else to worry about.”

“Mn?”

“Well, say we tell him everything and he still doesn't believe us. What if he goes running to Jin GuangYao and spills his guts? We might be putting Mianmian in danger and jeopardising the whole investigation. What then?” Mo XuanYu ponders this possibility. “I think we should call Mianmian and ask. It can't hurt. And she said she's available, if I need her for anything.”

“Mo XuanYu is smart.” Lan Zhan says that with a completely straight face.

Mo XuanYu stares at him for a good few seconds before wailing and hiding his face behind his fingers.

Lan Zhan calmly finishes his tea and takes their mugs into the kitchen for washing.

*****************

A/N

No cliffhangers because stuff is gonna happen!!

All my love,

Charlie

🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫

Chapter Text

This is a dream, Mo XuanYu knows. It feels weird but not in a bad way. He has an acoustic guitar in his lap, and he's just finished tuning it. He closes his eyes and begins playing, humming first and then singing along.

“When I wake up, I'm with you,

When I fall asleep, I'm next to you,

You live in my heart and that's 

Where I wanna be

It's you, just you.

I see you smile and I know,

I'm living in your heart too, 

And that's where you wanna be,

It's you, just you.

I can see you 

With the stars,

Shining so bright,

And I'm with you,

It's you, just you.”

He feels himself being lifted and then Lan Zhan’s arms come around him. Just like that, they start playing together, and it's seamless, no pause or delay. The music flows as if nothing has changed, but his cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

When the song ends, they continue playing together just for the fun of it and then, he turns his face. Gentle golden eyes full of love stare back at him, and it's a lot to be at their mercy, the focal point of that concentrated attention. Lan Zhan doesn't even blink, and it's as if he too, is fully immersed in him. His lovely pink lips press forward, kissing his cheek.

“What is this one called?”

“Just you.”

Mo XuanYu gasps awake, stunned and confused. The song continues playing in his head in a loop. Minutes pass and he just lies there in bed, trying to hang on to the wonderful feelings, the warmth and confidence of being in love with someone who cared about him just as deeply. The kind of rule-breaking unconditionally pure love that has no equal. Just the way Lan Zhan was looking at him, it felt so good. Like they were a team, and what they had was forever.

He flings a hand in the general direction of his phone and picks it up. 07.58. He groans. He remembers promising Lan Zhan that they'd definitely start the yoga thing today. Lan Zhan is probably punctual to a fault, he thinks grumpily, forcing himself to sit up. But as soon as he does that, an ache begins behind his eyes and this time, Mo XuanYu knows that's the precursor to a proper full-on migraine. The only thing he's not certain of is when it's gonna hit. At the moment, it's a slight pressure but unfortunately, it's real and it's really there. 

The only problem with that is yesterday, they cried off yoga (literally) and if he makes an excuse and gives Lan Zhan the impression he's flaky, that's not cool. A promise is a promise after all, and the sooner he gets up, the sooner he can get it over with. He presses the heels of his palms against his eyes, willing the tension away until he sees black spots. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't. He can't tell if that was useful.

There's a knock on the door.

“Mo XuanYu?”

“I'm awake!” He yells, quickly throwing the covers off himself. “Be down in two minutes.” Hopefully, that's as long as it's going to take to wash his face, brush his teeth and go to the loo.

******************

Mo XuanYu follows the sound of softly playing music and has to go down a winding staircase to find the source. He's in what SiZhui referred to as the basement, and if he's honest, Mo XuanYu fully expected a dark, dim place, a nesting ground for cockroaches and spiders, full of junk and things kept for nostalgic reasons as opposed to because they were valuable. You know, somewhere a serial killer with a wide range of tools would feel right at home.

But this?

There's no way in hell he could've come up with this, even with a wild and fertile imagination like his.

One whole wall is just floor to ceiling mirrors and he immediately sees himself. Mo XuanYu waves at his reflection because it's dorky and definitely something he would do, and there's no point hiding that side of him. 

The space stretches the entire length and breadth of the building, and the walls are a creamy white. It's not the sterile guts of a hospital but more nurturing, warmer because of the magnolia tones. It's bright and welcoming, and even the columns supporting the house above don't feel intrusive or in the way. It's actually easy to bleed them out of his vision. One third of the space (and it's substantial) is a home gym behind a plexiglass barrier, fully equipped with posh-looking machines and weights, benches and exercise tools. Mo XuanYu has been dragged to public gyms enough by Mianmian to see the difference between this, a state-of-the-art high-end efficiency and the used, torn plastic leatherette seated places that reek of hormones and sweat.

A fortified top-of-the-range steel pole disappears into the LED lit ceiling on one side.

“Pole dancing?” Mo XuanYu blurts out incredulously. 

“Wei Ying requested it. It's good for building core strength,” Lan Zhan says from behind him.

Mo XuanYu turns around, and he has to stop and stare.

Lan Zhan is carrying two yoga mats, one pale blue and the other black. Steam follows him out as he closes the door behind him from what looks like a bathroom, and he is the picture of perfection. A pale blue towel is draped around his neck and he's wearing white yoga pants that highlight the definition of his thigh muscles. His loose pale blue cotton t-shirt looks soft and inviting, and it's long enough to hide everything important. His arms look amazing. Lan Zhan’s hair isn't as long as Mo XuanYu's, but it's pulled up into a tiny stubby ponytail. On anyone else, it would've looked ridiculous. But Lan Zhan looks divine.

Without thinking, Mo XuanYu immediately goes to him, putting his arms around Lan Zhan’s trim waist. Lan Zhan goes stiff for half a second, dropping what he's carrying before wrapping his own arms around Mo XuanYu's back. It feels so good to relax against the hard lines of his muscles, and though they're of a similar height with maybe only a few inches between them, Mo XuanYu feels protected and cared for. He hadn't realised how much he needed the comfort of it. The hug feels like coming home. He sighs, a lonely exhale that loosens his muscles and warms him from the inside out. Sandalwood, spicy sweet and woodsy fills his nose and he buries his face in the crook of Lan Zhan’s neck. His nose must be cold because Lan Zhan shivers in his arms.

“Did you sleep well?” His deep voice rumbles up past Mo XuanYu's ear pressed right up against Lan Zhan’s body.

“Yeah.” Mo XuanYu scrunchies up his nose, twitching it. “I had dreams so…I remember twisting, moving about. Restless and long.” He rubs the side of his temple, stepping back.

Lan Zhan gently takes his chin and tilts his face, angling it this way and that with his piercing gaze. This time, it's Mo XuanYu who can't blink, captivated by the shimmering golden flecks within Lan Zhan’s beautiful eyes.

“Your eyes are red,” he remarks. “Does anything hurt?”

“Um…not exactly?” Mo XuanYu's eyes darted away, finally released from the magic of Lan Zhan’s intensity. 

“Mo XuanYu. Please be honest with me. I cannot help if I do not know what is troubling you.” He looks far too concerned for Mo XuanYu to disregard his request. 

“Okay, fine-ah! I have a slight headache. But it's one of those ones that means a migraine later.” He brightens suddenly. “But didn't you say yoga is supposed to help with that? We should get started!”

Lan Zhan waits to answer, watching him back carefully. “Painkillers after breakfast?”

“I hate taking them…but okay. Come on, now! Let's go!” His enthusiasm isn't fake, since he'll take anything over self scrutiny. Mo XuanYu bounces on his toes as Lan Zhan sets up their mats. 

He brings out cold bottles of water and sets them by the side of their mats and makes Mo XuanYu stand next to him at a distance where they can both spread their arms and not be able to touch. However, as Mo XuanYu catches his eyes in the mirror, he realises that this yoga session just got a hundred times more interesting. He can watch Lan Zhan with zero interruption because of this blessed mirror instead.

This is going to be so easy. So good.

********************

Well, he couldn't have been more wrong. 

It was neither easy, nor good. 

Lan Zhan has eagle eye attention and focus, his ability to both concentrate on himself AND Mo XuanYu is unparalleled, and Mo XuanYu regrets agreeing to this sweaty endeavour with all of his poor, tiny, shrivelled up heart. He also regrets waking up, getting out of bed, and coming down here at all. He's quite sure he's never, ever had so much fluid leave his body, both with and without his say so. 

In the beginning, he couldn't stop talking, asking questions about each pose and unintentionally riling up a patient teacher…and then, when he realised what kind of a rise he was getting out of Lan Zhan, you'd think he would stop, but no. This is Mo XuanYu, tailor made to annoy the fuck out of the gorgeous specimen of a human being ever to grace his life.

He quickly learned that he could (on purpose) get a pose wrong and Lan Zhan would be right there, correcting his form with a diligence that meant touching him. Lots. Of hands on correction. Absolutely necessary. 

Mo XuanYu's newfound shamelessness reaches new heights and that's how he discovers that Lan Zhan has a mean side. It's all in the good spirits of actually getting Mo XuanYu to exercise, however, it's also making something stir deep in his belly. The odd flashes of bare, smooth ivory skin that hint at a happy trail aren't helping with that, either. 

Not paying attention to his own pose, during the down dog stretch on the last few exercises, Mo XuanYu stares straight ahead at Lan Zhan’s beautiful, hot, gorgeous, hot, stunning body, and did he mention hot? And the sigh that escapes from his lips turns into a shriek when he sees those golden orbs glaring back at him. He's been caught!

“Mo XuanYu! Focus!”

“I am focusing,” he protests as a giggle erupts in his chest. On the wrong thing but then, that backside deserves an award.

Of course, Lan Zhan makes him pay for it. When Mo XuanYu thinks that's it, they've finished for the day, Lan Zhan contorts his body into unimaginable shapes and stretches, claiming it's the required cool-down phase. Mo XuanYu is pretty sure his body isn't made that way, but Lan Zhan proves him wrong. 

Again. And again. 

When he finally, finally reaches out with a hand to pull Mo XuanYu up, he feels more like a ragdoll than a man.

“I've drawn you a bath with healing salts,” the Torturer says without a qualm, leading him into the mysterious room Mo XuanYu had assumed was a bathroom. 

But to use that humble word feels like an insult, because this is a godly creation made by no mere mortal. The entire place is as big as Mo XuanYu's previous studio apartment, entirely decked out with marble tiles. They're gorgeous creamy white with golden streaks and remind Mo XuanYu of Lan Zhan’s tiger eyes. His attention is immediately drawn to the bath which is less of a tub and more of a sunken pool.

His headache recedes because of his captivation, and Mo XuanYu pulls his t-shirt over his head with glee, unable to resist.

Pink ears and all, Lan Zhan retreats to the clear stall, a shower cubicle that at first, appears made out of all glass, and he shamelessly ogles Lan Zhan’s fantastically muscular back. His enjoyment is cut short by the water switching on and the see-through glass going horribly cloudy. 

Mo XuanYu quickly strips and wades into the bath, the exercise for which he wasn't prepared for catching up with him. He sinks into the miraculously hot water, making a noise of relief that no human being on earth, this early in the morning, should.

He must have drifted off surrounded by dried cherry blossoms and oil infused bubbles, because Lan Zhan is gently shaking him awake.

Lan Zhan is also dressed to perfection, and as Mo XuanYu rubs his tired eyes open, he can't decide which version he likes more. Casual relaxed Lan Zhan, stretchy Lan Zhan, or this, Smart-And-Reliable Lan Zhan. He's like a kid wanting to hog all his favourite toys at once, clutching them to his chest rather selfishly. (He also feels extremely lucky that he got to see Lan Zhan like that, and that he was the only one who got that privilege.) 

“Breakfast time,” Lan Zhan says softly, his eyes going dark when they linger on the hollows of Mo XuanYu's collarbones. He all but throws the towels down and then he's gone, fists clenching the clothes that Mo XuanYu had left on the floor,  taking them with him.

Maybe he hates that Mo XuanYu is a bit of a slob, he thinks, as he stands up and stretches, letting the water run off his body in rivulets. He can feel all the underworked muscles he had no idea existed, and he knows his poor body is going to ache tomorrow. He is living in someone else's home, and he tells himself that it's bad form to behave in a way that Lan Zhan won't like, so he makes himself promise to do better.

Lan Zhan, the kind and considerate gorgeous man that he is, has also left a fresh set of clothes for him, and after a quick glance in the full-length mirror, Mo XuanYu thinks he looks okay after getting dressed. There's something exciting about having someone else, wait, no, having specifically Lan Zhan picking out his clothes. 

Whistling softly, Mo XuanYu exits the glorious god-level bathing area and climbs up the stairs to the kitchen.

*******************

Lan Zhan is already having a very difficult day.

Who knew making the most attractive man alive stretch his gorgeous body for health reasons was going to be so taxing on his own self-control? He was supposed to be easing himself into mindfulness and breathing methodically, not staring at the way Mo XuanYu's t-shirt clung to his slim hips, or notice the precariously low strung pyjamas and wonder how they remained on. The only reason he wasn't caught was because he was supposed to be keeping an eye on his only pupil and making sure he was doing the poses correctly. 

Still, there's no point in regretting his actions. He must endeavour to change, and from tomorrow, he will be better at this.

Today is going to be a busy day, and he hopes whatever measures they've taken towards improving Mo XuanYu's health actually works. Lan Zhan nearly cancelled the yoga earlier after seeing Mo XuanYu's bloodshot eyes and the fatigue on his face. He disguised his concern by asking the relevant questions but he's still worried, especially because Mo XuanYu doesn't like admitting that he's in pain, much like somebody else from Lan Zhan’s past. The fact that it didn't take much for him to tell Lan Zhan about his progressive migraine on the horizon means it is significantly there already. 

Lan Zhan has gotten their breakfast ready, Mo XuanYu's plate has a side-order of ibuprofen for now but he'll make sure to keep the stronger ones to hand. Now they're just waiting to eat and then they'll leave to go visit Uncle Qiren. He hears a faint whistling and freezes, the familiarity of the song reaching into his chest and squeezing his heart in a vice grip.

Just You.

The song that Wei Ying never ever recorded, never released. And why would he when they both knew who it was written for? He sang it for Lan Zhan and it was enough. But now, Lan Zhan wonders if it is alright to want more. He wants Wei Ying back, whole and healthy. He wants his boyfriend back. His eyes drift over to the second cutlery drawer where a blue velvet box waits. It holds a token of his love, waiting. 

Always waiting.

Lan Zhan wants to give it to the man who it belongs to. He thinks he's waited enough.

Mo XuanYu bounds into the kitchen like Bean after too many treats, and then he winces as he plants himself on his seat. For a moment, Lan Zhan lets his imagination win and he allows himself to see his life if Wei Ying were truly in it. He forces himself to stop holding onto the counter, and to do what he needs to next. He brews the tea to accompany their congee, pushing the spicier toppings towards the man that he loves, and he lets himself want more.

*******************

As they walk towards Uncle Qiren's home, Mo XuanYu darts off the ancient stone path, still as strong and unblemished as it must have been in its heyday, into the meadowy undergrowth on the sides. He comes back looking far too pleased with himself and clutching a fistful of wildflowers. There's a wide variety too, of daisy-like asters in lilac and pale blue with gorgeous egg yolk centres, a bunch of purple Heather and tiny pink cyclamen blooms. He even picked up some late flowering dandelions.

“For Old Man Lan,” he snickers, laughing it off like a joke.

But Lan Zhan sees the kindness, the thoughtfulness behind the gift and he smiles, offering his arm again. How easy it is to miss the weight of Mo XuanYu next to him, his easy laugh and interesting chatter. Lan Zhan meant it yesterday when he said that it didn't matter to him what Mo XuanYu called himself. His soul remains the same and this is his zhiji.

“Uncle will be pleased.” He says in lieu of declaring his love then and there.

“That sounds like a threat,” Mo XuanYu replies, giggling. 

He's not wrong, and the sound of him laughing so sweetly is Lan Zhan’s favourite. It always has been.

They knock on Uncle Qiren's door, and XiChen answers.

***************

A/N

Dear Lovely Readers,

No hate!! 😅

Have to go to work now, but I promise I'll start writing as soon as I get back, in exactly 6 hours from now?!!

This chapter in particular is for my Broooooo Smiley2004 - you know why! Have some chocolate 🍫 🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫 and calm down!😂😂😂

All my love,

Charlie

Chapter Text

Well, this is unexpected, Mo XuanYu thinks as they bow to greet each other, and then it's his turn.

“Mo XuanYu! Although it's nice to meet you today after such a long time, I must admit to my surprise when A-Yao said you were staying with my brother here, in the Cloud Recesses,” Lan XiChen says smoothly, as they too, greet each other politely. His honey-coloured eyes are friendly but cold.

Not at all like Lan Zhan’s lovely golden eyes that always seem to be radiating warmth and affection. But maybe that's because Lan Zhan has never hidden how he feels about Mo XuanYu, how he doesn't care at all about his identity problem, neatly sidestepping the issue via bypassing it altogether. XiChen can afford to show how he really feels too, and it takes Mo XuanYu a few seconds to recall that Lan Zhan had been cut off from his brother because this guy refused to believe in the sincerity of the feelings he held for Wei WuXian. 

Mo XuanYu has luckily kept his arm in the crook of Lan Zhan’s elbow, so he feels the exact moment when the man next to him goes rigid. He squeezes the muscles under his fingertips and smiles outwardly, hoping Lan Zhan doesn't react adversely.

“I'm surprised too, Lan XiChen,” he replies easily, because he IS surprised. No, shocked is a better word. From what he's saying, he must have met the real Mo XuanYu at some point, but here's where this Mo XuanYu can play up his injury. “You'll have to forgive me though. I only know about you through Lan Zhan and the few times he's mentioned you vaguely. I had a head injury some years back and there were complications that keep flaring up out of nowhere. It messed up my memory big time.” Mo XuanYu can feel more than one pair of eyes on him and Lan Zhan, but he dare not look away just yet.

“Lan Zhan? So familiar already,” XiChen remarks, looking between them.

“Easier to remember than Lan WangJi,” Mo XuanYu lies smoothly, quickly.

Why the hell has Lan XiChen turned up out of the blue like this? Is it such a coincidence that the timing of it is so crucial, just when they were coming to talk to Lan Qiren about him? Mo XuanYu hates coincidences because they rarely turn out to be harmless, or without severe consequences. 

Just looking at how his body and that of the original Mo XuanYu ended up in the basement of Koi Tower is the major one. Both there to be disposed of, discarded.

“Ah, why don't you come in? It's great that you're here and we didn't have to come and find you, Didi,” XiChen carries on, opening the door wider. “It's time you met my new husband, Jin GuangYao. A-Yao, this is my baby brother, Lan WangJi.”

Shit, shit, shit! And, what the fuck??

This is the man they suspect of murdering Mo XuanYu. When did they get married? Did they elope?

Mo XuanYu smiles broadly back at him, hating the way his own hands are trembling. Get it together, Pal, he tells himself, because this is a man who doesn't miss a trick. He's going to know as soon as Mo XuanYu says anything out of character or anything not quite right. Above all, he's got to pretend harder than ever that he's got no recollection of anything remotely useful to the authorities, that he can't remember anything that would incriminate the Jins and specifically this guy, at all.

Speaking of which, they need to tell Mianmian about this as soon as possible. She may not know that both XiChen and Jin GuangYao are here, and that they're married. She'll know what to do.

Jin GuangYao's eyes are the sharpest, glancing at Lan Zhan almost casually before fixating on Mo XuanYu with a scrutiny reserved usually by a surgeon about to dive into a patient's insides with a scalpel. 

“A-Yu,” he says warmly, pulling him into a hug.

Mo XuanYu wants to cringe back from him, but he forces himself to hug the smaller man tightly, ignoring the waves of Lan Zhan’s disapproval rolling off him like a physical thing. “Ah, Gege, you're also going to have to forgive me, too. After the accident, my brain is just not the same. I'm afraid, at the risk of sounding rude, I just don't know who you are. I mean, obviously, we've all heard of you, but I'm a little starstruck realising you're my older brother.” Mo XuanYu really leans into it, playing along. It's a frightening thought that he's only been left alive because this stranger, the half brother of the real Mo XuanYu, who also possibly may have wanted to kill him, has only left him alive because Jin GuangYao believes he's not a threat. 

“Let's all sit and share some tea,” XiChen invites everyone, as Uncle Qiren draws away to the kitchen.

“Yes, of course! But I brought Lan Zhan’s uncle some flowers, so I better go and get a vase or something.” Mo XuanYu lifts up the flowers in his hand like a visual explanation. 

Just as he's leaving, Lan Zhan’s phone goes off and he answers it straight away after seeing the name on the screen. “SiZhui? Are you back?” He goes out of the room to continue the conversation, his voice fading with the distance. “You brought Jin Ling?”

Jin GuangYao's phone also chimes with a message, and he stands up after opening the notification and reading it. “Love, I have to go but I'll try and wrap things up as soon as possible, hm? Jiang WanYin is here, and we thought we'd have the meeting here. We'll be at home if you need me.” He bends to kiss XiChen's cheek, before moving rapidly towards the door. But he pauses, sending another cautious look towards Mo XuanYu before he goes.

Mo XuanYu sees him pass Lan Zhan as he continues on his way to the kitchen, where Uncle Qiren is standing by the back door that has a window overlooking his garden.

Mo XuanYu presses a finger against his own lips signalling quiet. He points outside and Lan Qiren eases the door open, taking the flowers out of his hands. He also makes a lot of noise by the sink and letting the water gush out, filling and refilling the vase so that Mo XuanYu is safe to speak freely. Outside, Mo XuanYu wanders further away, still keeping his voice low. 

“Mianmian, can't talk much. Jin GuangYao is here with Lan Zhan’s brother, and guess what? They're married! Also, we were gonna ask but I think he's just gonna go for it, so this is a heads-up - Lan Zhan wants to know how much his brother knows about Jiggy.”

“Fuck.” Mianmian sounds stressed and pissed. “Can you guys keep him there? Jin GuangYao, I mean. Is it just the two of them? Him and XiChen?”

“No. Apparently someone called Jiang WanYin is here, too. They're having a meeting. But if I was Lan Zhan, I'd take this opportunity to get his brother alone and force the issue, know what I mean? When’s he gonna get this kind of chance again, right?”

“Alright, alright, leave it with me,” Mianmian says, and she's also whispering.

“I better get back,” Mo XuanYu starts saying, and then he remembers the question that had come to him unexpectedly. “Say, Mianmian, you know you made Lan Zhan and the group watch that meeting on the USB? About Wei WuXian and the Wens. Where did you get it from?”

*********************

Mo XuanYu hurries back to the lounge, hoping his absence wasn't too long. But he finds Uncle Qiren standing between the Lan brothers, and both of them are glaring at each other.

“WangJi, how can I believe you? You offer up accusations against my husband and expect me to, what? Just believe you? Where is your proof?” XiChen's fists are curled towards his sides, back ramrod straight. His caramel eyes are blazing with a righteous anger, incensed at the way things are going. “There is no way A-Yao had anything to do with his father's shady dealings. Things are different in Koi Tower now.” He shakes his head with disappointment. “I had hoped that us coming here today would be the start of repairing our relationship. But the parallel I'm seeing instead leads me to believe that you are doing this because I never agreed or supported you during your first crush. But you have to see the difference. I love A-Yao and he loves me. That's why we got married last week.”

Lan Zhan’s brighter, golden eyes narrow dangerously at his brother. “Do you think I am so petty that I would jeopardise your happiness out of something so ineffectual as jealousy?” He sounds incredulous. “Or some kind of warped tit for tat move? Do you even know me at all?” The last part sounds sad with resignation.

“XiChen, try to think about this rationally,” Uncle Qiren intervenes quickly, sensing they are moving off track. “Putting aside any personal reasons why you are assuming WangJi would say such things, please consider the accusations themselves properly, before defending your husband. That is another separate issue we should discuss as well.” He sounds annoyed about it.

“You only got married last week?” Mo XuanYu thinks out loud, and unconsciously steps back when both Lan XiChen and Lan Zhan direct their intensity towards him instead. Great, he's managed to focus on the least important part somehow. 

“What of it?” XiChen demands, defensive suddenly. “It was the right time. We both agreed.”

“Without telling your family?” Uncle Qiren demands back.

“What family? Since when have either of you cared about me?” XiChen shoots back.

Both Uncle Qiren and Lan Zhan look wounded.

“I sent you countless messages,” Lan Zhan replies, disbelieving. “Not one response in return.”

“It's not like I changed my number,” XiChen scoffs, just as doubtful. 

“Let me see your phone,” Mo XuanYu says, going to stand by him. “Lan Zhan, read out your number.”

Lan Zhan immediately does what he asked him, and everyone is shocked at the discrepancy that is revealed.

“But, Didi, I know your number. I put it in myself!” XiChen sounds so upset.

“I'm gonna take a leap here, but what if your number was changed and you didn't know it?” Mo XuanYu suggests.

“That can't be, my number is easy to remember. I asked for this–” his strangled cry is enough of an indicator that what Mo XuanYu suspected is true. “...when I got my first phone.” He sits down heavily, the phone dropping out of his loose fingers.

Mo XuanYu looks at both Uncle Qiren and Lan Zhan, and they all know what XiChen is refusing to believe. 

“Uncle Qiren, please can we check your number too?” At this point, Mo XuanYu knows it's just a formality but it's important to regain XiChen's trust. He picks up the dropped phone, encouraging XiChen to assist in this next part himself. 

Uncle Qiren has no problem doing that, and it's just as Mo XuanYu suspected. The same discrepancy is right there with the changed numbers. Only a person close enough to XiChen, like his husband for example, would have had access to his phone to do that. And to know which specific numbers to change, and to do it only enough not to cause suspicion, hence just the one digit change. If XiChen had just glanced at the numbers, he might not have realised unless he was paying attention. 

XiChen looks shell-shocked, gazing into the distance like he's living in some alternate reality. As if this can't be happening to him. But he must be doing some thinking because his head suddenly shoots up to fix Mo XuanYu with an angry glare.

“Why did you ask about my marriage?”

“Um…so, a lot of things happened last week. Which day, if you don't mind me asking?” Mo XuanYu catches Lan Zhan’s eyes, and he knows they're both thinking about the same thing, the night they were both reunited.

“Friday. A-Yao said he hoped the weekend would suffice for a short honeymoon, but he has definitely made plans for a longer break when things are a little less busy. He's just signed a major deal with Jiang WanYin, but they still have to iron out the smaller details.” He takes a shaky breath, releasing it quickly. 

“Okay, so last Friday night, Lan Zhan’s band played that song.” Mo XuanYu starts to explain everything, but Lan Zhan shakes his head very slightly, telling him not to. So Mo XuanYu signals with just a thumbs up, hiding it with his body in a way that XiChen can't see, and anyway, he's focused on what Mo XuanYu is saying instead. “Anyway, Lan Zhan found me. But also, Mianmian’s team got a chance to search the Jin safe, the one hidden behind the mirror,” he sees XiChen's eyes go wide, so it's another kernel of truth in their favour. “They found a USB with footage of a meeting in Qishan, the Nightless City building, between Wei WuXian and Wen Chao. That's what Mianmian showed you and the band,” Mo XuanYu turns towards Lan Zhan then.

“And you think Jin GuangYao discovered that it was missing when he and Ge returned from their honeymoon. On Monday?” He asks his brother, and Mo XuanYu is relieved that Lan Zhan sounds much kinder now. Angry on his behalf instead of at him.

“Well, it makes sense, right? But he had that deal with Jiang WanYin to get through, so he probably couldn't get anyone to investigate until later. Then Jin ZiXun dies, paving the way for the contract signing, and then his spies reveal I'm here, which of course, sounds weird when Lan Zhan and Mo XuanYu wouldn't have met under ordinary circumstances. Of course he's going to check us out, make sure I haven't remembered anything. But Lan XiChen, I've got to ask you something really important now. I know you want us to explain everything I just said properly, but trust me, I don't think we have that kind of time. Tell me, have you and Jin GuangYao ever come back here without anyone knowing?”

XiChen looks shocked again that Mo XuanYu should ask something like that. Then, the realisation of what he's implying dawns, and he looks horrified. 

“Yes,” he whispers. “A-Yao said we needed a panic room.”

“And does that Panic room have a safe?” Mo XuanYu asks him.

XiChen finally looks up, full of remorse and disbelieving pain. “He insisted on it.” 

Chapter Text

Mo XuanYu feels terrible for Lan XiChen, having to learn like this that he can't trust the man he married. He's still wondering why Jin GuangYao insisted on them marrying last week, and he's thinking about the possibilities. Jin GuangYao's behaviour, everything they know about the man up until now, shows that he's meticulous about every step he takes or initiates, so why was the marriage rushed like that?

Secondly, he obviously wanted to keep XiChen away from his Uncle Qiren and Lan Zhan, and he took extreme measures to make that happen. Was that just to control XiChen? To make him dependent on only Jin GuangYao for all his emotional needs? It was certainly effective, judging from XiChen's reactions. 

Thirdly, Jin GuangYao's insistence on the safe in the panic room. It makes sense that Jin GuangYao is cautious and possibly paranoid enough to hide sensitive information and perhaps evidence in different places. Why keep all your eggs in one basket, right? With XiChen estranged from his family, whatever was kept in the safe would remain a secret because nobody would go to his house. If one wanted dirt on the Jins, they would look no further than Koi Tower, a fact he must have been banking on.

XiChen seems to have reached the same conclusion because he stands up.

“Let's go.”

“Where?” Lan Zhan is already standing, his body coiled with tension and braced to act.

“The Hanshi. I want to see what that safe contains. You can either come with me, or stay here.” XiChen starts moving towards the door.

Both Mo XuanYu and Lan Zhan are right on his heels, neither willing to miss this opportunity. The snakey little man could use his silver tongue on XiChen and talk him out of investigating their safe, and the worst case scenario would be that he would know that they're on to him. He could try to hurt Mo XuanYu for sure, then. Plus seeing is believing, as they say.

“Will you use the front door?” Lan Zhan asks him, as XiChen veers off the main path towards his home.

“I'm not stupid, Didi. If A-Yao–Jin GuangYao sees me, he's going to ask me what I'm doing. I want to delay that conversation as much as possible, at least until I know what's in there. I don't want to give him the chance to switch anything out just so he can lie to my face again.” His eyes are red and bloodshot from the effort of holding back his emotions. 

Great, so everyone is on the same page, Mo XuanYu reflects, though he's not certain how much to trust XiChen yet. Everything depends on what they find in the Hanshi, and how incriminating it is for Jin GuangYao, and how much it will sway XiChen towards which side.

XiChen leads them around the back of the Hanshi, past a lovely quaint garden hosting a small pond with colourful koi fish. The area is well kept, so perhaps a gardner has been procured to maintain it.

The layout of the Hanshi is similar to the Jingshi. XiChen approaches the door to the kitchen hesitantly, listening for any activity. Hearing nothing immediately, he pulls out his keys and selects the correct one, slotting it into the lock and turning it. 

Straight away, they hear raised voices.

“Jiang WanYin, hold your temper! There is no need to panic,” an unfamiliar person says loudly. 

Lan Zhan gestures at his brother, a silent request to know the identity of the man speaking.

“Su Minshan,” XiChen replies, but he isn't hanging around, moving towards the second door to their left which must lead to the basement. 

“Mo XuanYu, I will follow in a moment,” Lan Zhan whispers to him, taking out his phone and waving it at him. He locates the correct app and begins recording what they're hearing.

“I told you, everything is under control. Mo XuanYu doesn't remember anything, so you're safe. I will make sure of it after this meeting.” That's Jin GuangYao. 

Mo XuanYu wants to hear more since it concerns him, but XiChen has already disappeared down the well-lit staircase, so he nods at Lan Zhan and hurries  after him. Is the other person Jin GuangYao talking to somehow related to Mo XuanYu's death? It seems likely, and he hopes whatever Lan Zhan gets on record is enough to identify them. Mo XuanYu, the one that died, deserves to rest in peace.

XiChen's basement is different from Lan Zhan’s basement in the Jingshi. The same Lan preference for understated quiet elegance is more an undertone, but there's also an unmistakable air of expense as if none has been spared to create this man-cave. It's been sectioned off with a gym to one side, a gaming area surrounded by glass and possibly soundproofed, and an office for working from home. All the walls have a walnut wood panelling, complimenting the deep burgundy carpet in places where the red and gold marble flooring replaces it.

XiChen doesn't waste any time looking around. He strides towards the gaming room part where the floor is black marble with glittering shards matching the back wall behind the screen, which is off. Mo XuanYu can see their passing reflection as XiChen rounds it and presses a button disguised as a light switch. The whole section is actually a sliding door and it silently, smoothly opens, revealing a concrete wall with a keypad. XiChen's fingers press the relevant buttons which, when Mo XuanYu commits them to memory, sounds like a certain someone's birthday. He refrains from rolling his eyes. Everyone knows the six digit codes are always birthday numbers, hackers most of all.

The concrete door slides open too, and it's only when Mo XuanYu passes it that he realises how thick and heavy it is, such a solid mass of a barrier. The mechanism keeping it effortless in opening and closing must be top-of-the-range, seeing as panic rooms are only ever used in emergencies. 

The inside space is well organised, lighting up as soon as they enter. There's a shelf with books and a radio, torches and a few red wax candles in glasses. A mini fridge hums quietly in the corner and there's an open hardware shelving made from nuts and bolts securing metal sheets. There's an assortment of tinned food and biscuits, snacks with long best-before dates, tidy stacks of cutlery, plates and bowls.

A screen behind them has lit up, separated into nine split screens simultaneously showing different areas of the house, and oh, shit, in the top left hand corner, that's the moment Jin GuangYao looks straight at the camera. His lips move and then there's a flurry of activity as they exit that room.

“XiChen-Ge, whatever the fuck you're doing, you better hurry up. We've been rumbled,” Mo XuanYu says. “How do we close the doors?” 

He gets nothing. Mo XuanYu turns around, but XiChen is furiously typing numbers into another keypad on a metal safe, one of those really thick and heavy hard-core types. The keypad keeps beeping, red flashing lights that can't mean anything good, and all the while, Mo XuanYu's heart rate picks up, going like clappers. 

On the screens in front of him, all of them go empty of people, all except the camera feed in the kitchen. Mo XuanYu can see quite a few people moving. There's a shit ton of trouble headed their way.

Mo XuanYu turns around hearing a noise, and XiChen has just punched the safe in frustration. He can't open it. Mo XuanYu thinks fast. They can buy themselves some time, right? If the basement is compromised, then this panic room (aptly named) is the safest place. He goes to XiChen's side.

“Get it together, XiChen. How the fuck do I close the doors?” He asks urgently, shaking his shoulder. 

Thank God, XiChen snaps out of it and turns around. He punches an obscure green button on the side and the concrete wall door slams into place seconds before Jin GuangYao appears, panting, before he disappears on the other side of it.

“Can he open it from the other side?” Mo XuanYu demands, and he can see XiChen frantically typing numbers in an override screen that's popped out of the wall next to them. Mo XuanYu turns to the collection of screens where it has a view of the space outside of the panic room, and where Jin GuangYao had the same exact thought as his husband, only he's a heartbeat too late.

Mo XuanYu sees him punching the wall, his face a mask of fury. Next to him, Su Minshan pulls out a gun, waving it around before Jin GuangYao stops him with a shake of his head.

Now they're trapped behind this heavy, impenetrable barrier separating them from the threat outside. 

XiChen returns to the safe he can't open, trying another sequence of numbers, one after another. Mo XuanYu looks up, ears sharp, when he hears a crackle on some hidden speakers and then Jin GuangYao's voice rings out in their tiny sanctuary. 

“Er-Ge,” he croons, “What are you doing? Why are you in there?”

XiChen ignores him.

He types in more possible combinations, and he's running out of ideas by the looks of it, if the gaps between his fingers moving is any indication. 

Meanwhile, Jin GuangYao keeps talking. 

Mo XuanYu can't choose which is worse: his voice or the frustrated sighs leaving XiChen's mouth. His head decides this is the perfect time to remind him of an impending migraine. Go away, he thinks, knowing how useless it is. The pressure behind his eyes increases, mockingly. 

“Er-Ge, open the door. Whatever it is, we can talk about it. Like two adults who love each other. Come on, love. Open up.”

XiChen scowls, his eyes scanning the room and then flickering back to the keypad in front of him.

“Er-Ge, I'm guessing, because of our guest, that you may have come to some wrong conclusions.”

Mo XuanYu's gaze shoots back towards the screen, an ice cold tingling in his veins. Su Minshan and Xue Yang pull a struggling Lan Zhan towards the camera. Fuck! They've got him.

“Today was supposed to be all about mending things, but I can guarantee the opposite if you don't open the door. By now, you've probably realised that I changed the pass code on the safe. You can't open it, can you?” Jin GuangYao smiles at the camera, his stupid evil dimples on display.

XiChen's shoulders sink with defeat as he sags against the wall. His eyes flit towards the screens and fury lights up his face. He's fucking livid. Still watching the screen, he presses a button and talks into the speaker.

“Let my brother go!”

“And why would I do that when he's my only bargaining chip?” Jin GuangYao says smoothly, not even blinking. “Er-Ge, face it, you can't win. Just open the door, otherwise Minshan will start removing Lan WangJi's finger nails, one by one.” He delivers that like he's announcing items off a menu. Cool and calm, with not a hair out of place.

“A-Yao–Jin GuangYao! Why?” XiChen yells. “Why are you doing this??”

“Er-Ge, isn't it you who is doing this? Who came into our home aiming for the safe? I have to ask, why? Obviously something changed in between me leaving your side and coming here.” He begins pacing outside. 

They can see him thinking hard.

Mo XuanYu watches Lan Zhan struggling but the other two have a tight hold on his arms. He wishes Lan Zhan hadn't stopped back there, that he'd come with them. But it's too late for regrets. 

The sudden sharp twinge at the side of his head catches him unaware, making him wince. Mo XuanYu screws up his eyes, trying to focus on anything but the pain.

“I bet the drama came out. Is that what happened, Er-Ge? Did you find out I changed your family’s numbers?”

“Sir, don't say more!” Su Minshan tells him cautiously, but Jin GuangYao waves him away.

“I doubt A-Huan will want to remain married to me after this.” In a louder voice, he says clearly, “Er-Ge, open up and I promise, I'll show you what's inside the safe.”

It's exactly what XiChen wants, and before Mo XuanYu can stop him, he punches the green button so that the only thing keeping them safe slides out of the way. Mo XuanYu is pushed to the side as everyone enters, and now the pain in his head is unbearable. He should be lying down when it gets like this. He should be trying to sleep it off.

But then a hand shoves him really hard, enough to have his neck snapping back, and he sees actual stars when his head hits the back wall, the crack audible to every single person there.

“Mo XuanYu!” Lan Zhan’s anguished cry is nothing compared to the roar right next to his ringing ears, amid a purple flash.

“Fucking Wei WuXian!?? Jin GuangYao, you fucking liar! You promised me he was dead!”

Chapter Text

That voice, the way he's talking, and that smell: it's a combination of strong black coffee and pungent dry tobacco. Not cheap cigarettes either, but proper cigars. The posh kind, the ones that Jiang Fengmian loved. That Jiang Cheng indulged in because the habit reminded him of his dad.

Mo XuanYu…no! 

Not Mo XuanYu. 

Wei WuXian. 

Wei Ying! 

He's Wei Ying. He knows that as a fact, just like he knows water is clear, fire is orange and he is without a doubt, Wei WuXian. It's as easy as that.

When he opens his eyes and sees the usual rage colouring his adopted brother's fierce expression, the memories come crashing down on him one by one, a constant connected stream of awareness. The headache is so much worse though, more painful than it's ever been, and Wei Ying massages his temple with one hand while holding onto the wall with the other. Things aren't looking good.

“Jiang Cheng!” Wei Ying suddenly shouts with a dawning realisation, as he begins making sense of what he's seeing in his mind. “You were there that night! I remember!” He says that eagerly, hopeful that the issues with his memories have improved. He can feel the trickle of something warm rolling down the back of his neck, and hoping it's sweat, he ignores it for now.

“Oh, that's unfortunate,” Jin GuangYao mutters, staring at his own nails as if he's bored. He looks up at Wei Ying, an open and wide smile on his face that manages to look regretful at the same time. “There might have been a chance that you could've survived this if you'd just kept your mouth shut. Now, you're going to wind up being another statistic.”

“Wei WuXian? Didi, YOUR Wei WuXian?” XiChen looks completely bowled over, not knowing how to make sense of any of this.

Lan Zhan gives him a curt nod. Then, catching his captors unaware while they're distracted, in a magnificent unparalleled move of supreme strength, he pulls back his arms and uses the created momentum to body slam Su Minshan and Xue Yang together, face first. The ugly crunch of broken bones and spurting blood is a shocker and as they slump to the floor in an unmoving crumpled heap of unconscious bodies, Lan Zhan calmly steps over them wanting to reach Wei Ying. There's a golden fire blazing in his eyes as he stares in front of him, pausing because there's one problem: Jiang WanYin is standing in his way.

It's a stalemate. No one so much as twitches.

Lan Zhan stares him down, seeing the violence in his amethyst eyes. This is the man who watched Zhao Zhuliu attack his own brother, Lan Zhan’s beloved, and did nothing. Just stood there and watched. But as much as Lan Zhan wants to tear him apart limb from limb, right now he's closer to Wei Ying than Lan Zhan is. Patience is the key. Lan Zhan only has to wait for his opportunity. When it comes, he's going to have to be fast.

There are five people in this small room, close enough to hurt each other. Lan XiChen is standing by the safe near the back wall, Jin GuangYao in front of him but also at Lan Zhan’s right, body tilted to keep an eye on the hostiles, Jiang WanYin in front of him and to the right a little, while Wei Ying is leaning against the side wall, in front but to the left.

XiChen breaks the silence. “Can someone please explain what's going on?” He demands, sounding close to breaking. “Didn't you say Wei WuXian was dead? I thought he was Mo XuanYu!” His honey-coloured eyes are full of accusations towards Jin GuangYao. When he glances towards Wei Ying, it changes to an expression of hurt and regret.

“Hey, in my defence,” Wei Ying gasps, trying to keep the pain contained in between blinking fast, “I had amnesia.”

The past tense used makes Lan Zhan’s face light up, full of hope. “What do you remember?”

“Pretty much everything…I think. Jiang Cheng was the trigger, but I guess the knock on the head also helped.” He laughs self-deprecatingly. Now Wei Ying gingerly lets his fingertips explore the sensitive skin at the back and to the side of his head. He's shocked to see them come away red. Damn, he had been hoping it wasn't blood. Lan Zhan hasn't looked away once, and his posture is like a tiger with his prey in sight. God, he's so hot like this, like he's going to move heaven and earth for Wei Ying. But Wei Ying needs to focus because this situation is far from safe. 

He looks at Jin GuangYao, secretly judging how close he's standing to XiChen. “That night, Jin GuangYao brought Jiang Cheng there to the meeting with Wen Chao to convince me to sign that laughable contract. As if!”

“But why? That doesn't make sense,” XiChen protests. He glares at Jin GuangYao, silently willing him to say something. 

He does, because this is his moment to shine. “Er-Ge, it doesn't make sense to you because you don't have all the facts. That night, Jiang WanYin came to Koi Tower to meet his sister after the birth of her son, Jin Rulan. But unfortunately, on the way to their wing, he met Mo XuanYu. Bumped into him, literally. Mo XuanYu was carrying a set of teacups and a freshly brewed porcelain pot of white peony tea. Their collision caused Jiang WanYin's clothes to be ruined, and in a fit of rage, he accidentally killed Mo XuanYu when a shard of china pierced a major artery. He didn't know what to do after that, so he came to me where I provided him with a change of clothes–”

“The golden sleeve!” Wei Ying looks towards Lan Zhan for confirmation. Lan Zhan silently nods because it does sound right. 

Jin GuangYao's expression changes. It's minute but he narrows his hazel eyes at Wei Ying, realising why he said that. “How do you know about that detail?” he demands of Lan Zhan. 

“I saw footage of that meeting,” Lan Zhan replies, and then he's smug because of the fear growing on the shorter man’s face. So on purpose, he pointedly adds, “On a USB.” 

“No…you didn't. You can't have seen it! You're lying.” Jin GuangYao goes pale, and he shakes his head as if that will make it so.

“But then you brought him to the Wens?” XiChen interrupts, needing this. A reason, a proper explanation of his misdoings.

“Yes, Er-Ge. You see, Madam Yu and Jiang Fengmian were heavily in debt with the Wens. They had bought out contracts of artists who were legally tied up with the Nightless City Corporation. The ludicrous rate of interest on the payment was so high, they were struggling to keep their heads above water, financially. It was never going to be cleared easily, not unless they had a miracle.” Jin GuangYao points to Wei Ying. “Then he comes along and his connection to the Jiangs of Lotus Pier Productions make him the perfect screw to turn for Wen Chao. It was a foolproof plan to get more power. If Wei WuXian had signed that night, the contract would have erased part of the Jiang debt. But Jiang Fengmian lied about how much he had paid, and ironically, Wen Chao hated liars. So whether Wei WuXian had signed or not, they were already dead. But Jiang WanYin needed to be shown what was going to happen to him if he didn't pay off the existing debt his soon-to-be-extinct parents owed the Wens, so we had to make an example out of his adopted brother.”

“But what you didn't know was that the Jiangs, Madam Yu and Jiang Fengmian, had disowned me as their ward,” Wei Ying remembers. “They had no influence on me any more, and I had the band to think about. I wasn't gonna sell them out like that.”

“Your problem, Wei WuXian, is that you still think this is about you.” Jin GuangYao sneers, openly laughing at him. “You were just a pawn in a much bigger game, and that is all.”

“But if you knew I wasn't Mo XuanYu, why didn't you expose that?” Wei Ying steps away from the wall. 

Lan Zhan notices how carefully he's moving. That means he's in pain.

“Again, less to do with you and more to keep him in line,” Jin GuangYao shifts his gaze towards Jiang WanYin. “We agreed to keep the death of Mo XuanYu under wraps in exchange for Jiang WanYin keeping Jin ZiXuan and Jiang YanLi hidden from the public spotlight, leaving my position in the clear. I managed to convince Jiang WanYin that Wei WuXian was Mo XuanYu, and the amnesia was extremely helpful. So, as long as Jiang WanYin kept Jin ZiXuan in line, his family would remain safe, including little A-Ling, right, Jiang WanYin?” He smiles most cruelly. “His family was always going to be those who were blood related.”

That's when Lan Zhan’s fist connects with his face, right between the eyes. He follows Jin GuangYao down with several punches, enough to render him immobile on the ground. When he's sure the evil little poisonous man won't move, Lan Zhan turns his attention to a nervous but still angry Jiang WanYin. There's a movement behind them that neither Jiang WanYin nor Wei Ying can see, and Lan Zhan has never been so glad of his ability to keep his face from giving anything away. 

“Wei Ying has his own family now,” Lan Zhan tells Jiang WanYin. It's something he's always wanted to make clear to this arrogant, horrible excuse of a brother. “But while he was part of yours, you always hid your own selfish jealousy towards him, didn't you? I think you were glad when Zhao Zhuliu hit him.” The words are chosen deliberately to extract the maximum reaction. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jiang WanYin explodes. “Wei WuXian should never have joined my family! He caused so many arguments between my parents, and he's the reason they're dead! So yeah, I was glad Zhao Zhuliu tried to knock some sense into him. How dare he think he could leave us in the dust and try to start a rock band by himself! Did he ever think I might have wanted to join him? You call me selfish, but it's Wei WuXian who's the selfish one. Always number one, always trying to impress my father. My father,” he sneers at Wei Ying, finally looking at him.

Wei Ying looks shocked. “But Jiang Cheng, your parents kicked me out for wanting to pursue a music career. What do you think they would have thought about you doing the same?” he asks, incredulous. 

“To be in a band, one needs to have talent for a start.” Lan Zhan says with a straight face, and then he punches him hard, no holding back, like he's always wanted to. The satisfaction is unparalleled and immense. 

Jiang WanYin drops like a stone to the ground, out cold.

“Dad!” SiZhui is there with Uncle Qiren. But so is Jin Rulan, disbelievingly staring down at his Jiujiu in shock. 

Lan Zhan is just about to welcome Uncle Qiren and his son when a voice from behind him says, “Not so fast, Lan WangJi.”

He turns around slowly, hoping he can still salvage this situation. 

But unfortunately, Jin GuangYao is standing directly behind XiChen holding a thin but lethal wire around his neck. XiChen is barely breathing, but his eyes are full of pain and hopelessness. He looks shattered. If there was ever a doubt in his mind, or a hope towards any redeeming quality in his husband, it's gone now.

Somehow, Jin GuangYao has opened the safe behind him.

“How did you know I was here?” XiChen asks him listlessly, slowly shuffling forward with Jin GuangYao's guidance so that he has room to manoeuvre himself. 

Lan Zhan watches them like a hawk, waiting for a chance. Behind him, he hears Wei Ying’s gasp, and SiZhui's little hushed cry of, “Baba!” It is enough for him to know that they've got each other for now. 

“I had an alert on my phone. The panic room door has a sensor directly linked to me,” Jin GuangYao replies.

Lan Zhan hates the way he sounds so casual about this, as if he doesn't care in the slightest that he's destroyed XiChen completely. 

“Give up, Jin GuangYao. You aren't leaving. Someone call the police.” Lan Zhan commands.

“No need,” Luo QingYang yells, arriving amid other shouts and directions. She shouts out what she's doing so Lan Zhan knows. “I have my gun trained on him, Lan WangJi. You can move out of the way.”

Jin GuangYao grins, calculating. 

“Only if you want your brother dead,” he replies.

That triggers something in XiChen. He elbows Jin GuangYao in the stomach, twisting in his grip to bring his own knee up hard against his husband's groin. With a scream, Jin GuangYao collapses to the ground in absolute agony.

Luo QingYang is there in a heartbeat, with her team of black-clad special ops trained officers, and they do not care. They pick up the barely able to struggle man, cable-tying his wrists together. 

“Huaisang? What are you doing here?” Lan Zhan hears as he goes to his brother to make sure he's alright. XiChen is rubbing his neck absentmindedly, his eyes unseeing.

“Wei-Xiong? Thank God!” He hears their record producing CEO say.

“WangJi, I will look after A-Huan. You should go to your family,” Uncle Qiren says. “And give this to Ms. Luo. I recorded everything.” He hands Wei Ying’s phone to Lan Zhan, who takes it gratefully after thanking him.

XiChen is despondent, and then as Jin GuangYao finally has a little awareness towards him, he says, “Jin GuangYao, you have been my biggest mistake.”

Lan Zhan turns away from him and the mess on the floor, looking towards where Wei Ying stands with an arm around their son. Nie Huaisang is next to them.

Why Nie Huaisang is here is a mystery, but perhaps SiZhui might have asked him to come here. But when Lan Zhan looks over to him, although he's standing next to Wei Ying, he has a strange expression on his face. Almost gleeful, and definitely one of satisfaction. As Luo QingYang's people drag Jin GuangYao away, Nie Huaisang stops one of the men holding him.

Looking directly at Jin GuangYao, Nie Huaisang says to him, “This Is for my brother. Nie MingJue, decorated detective, loyal to the Police department in Qinghe. May you rot in Hell for what you did to him.” He waits until Jin GuangYao's eyes widen with realisation. “Take him away. No visitors, no lawyers, nothing until further notice.” He speaks with such authority, and not a single person disputes his orders, instead they're hurrying to carry them out.

Everyone is too shocked to react.

Luo QingYang oversees the extraction of Su Minshan and Xue Yang with a disgusted face, and one of annoyance when it's Jiang WanYin's turn. He's still knocked out when they handcuff him. Lan Zhan gives her Wei Ying’s phone, telling her what Uncle Qiren said. Then he turns his full attention to his beloved. 

“Wei Ying.” 

It's all he has to say to get his arms full of him.

“Lan Zhan!”

It's everything he's ever wanted, this precious man here and with him. Lan Zhan hugs him tightly, and then pulls SiZhui into the hug, too.

“We will do this properly later,” he promises his son and his heart, “but Wei Ying needs to lie down now.” His hand, the one that cradled Wei Ying’s head to his shoulder, comes away red with his blood, though it's a lot less than when Wei Ying had checked his own injury before.

“We brought the Doc with us,” Luo QingYang reports, signalling Huaisang. “Boss?”

“Before you go, there's something you need to see,” Huaisang says to them.

They watch as Luo QingYang goes to the safe and pulls out a brown manilla envelope. She opens it and pours the contents out into Huaisang's cupped hands.

There, a listening device with wires attached rests in the centre of his palms, along with a set of keys with a white enamel bunny, and a black velvet box.

“I'll take this,” Huaisang says, handing off the wire gadget to Luo QingYang, “but I believe these belong to you. Welcome back, Wei WuXian. It is good to see you again, finally.”

Lan Zhan takes the items from Huaisang, holding up the velvet box towards Wei Ying, who grins at him.

“Oh, yeah. When I got back from that meeting, I was gonna slip that ring on your finger while you were sleeping,” he says to Lan Zhan, with a wink. 

And then he passes out.

*****************

A/N

Dear Beautiful Readers, 

And there we have it. A good conclusion? I hope you like it. And now we can have happy WangXian reconnecting, and the main reason I started writing this story. If you have any questions or suggestions, now’s the time to voice those thoughts!

Happy Wednesday and Happy Autumn! Aren't the trees magical this time of year? I hope you all see something lovely and take the time to appreciate it. Here's some wonderful chocolate too: 🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫

All my love,

Charlie

Chapter Text

A/N

Dear Beautiful Readers, 

As you know, this story has gotten waaaay out of hand, especially since we're at part 15 and I'm too lazy to make a separate book for it, plus I was just making a list of what else needs to be added in the next few chapters, and I wanna swear because I'm at 20 things, no joke, and that means book 11= a bit of a delay. Soooo….anyway, #fighting…

Plus I feel like we all deserve a bit of happy WangXian, ammaright?

All my love, 

Charlie

*********************

Wei Ying stretches without opening his eyes, and a warm hand tilts his head up by supporting his neck. A cool glass is pressed against his mouth and he opens it by instinct, incredibly thirsty and internally showering blessings on whoever this is. The lovely sandalwood aroma kind of gives it away, but he really doesn't want to wake up yet. The pressure between his eyes is still there, and when he lifts his hand to touch, it's guided away gently. There's something wrapped around his head and it briefly felt like a bandage. Lan Zhan’s beautiful voice hums, telling him to rest more and explaining that these are painkillers being placed on his tongue.

It doesn't matter. 

There's no one Wei Ying trusts more than him. He drifts away on a cloud of blissful rest, listening to the sweet and sad melody full of yearning, promising in his mind that he will kiss his beloved as soon as he can. The quiet click of the door closing and the muffled sounds of a conversation not too far away are what soothes him into a deeper slumber. 

Outside their bedroom, Lan Zhan walks with SiZhui towards his previous bedroom. 

“It will be good if you stay here for a while, after your Baba wakes up,” Lan Zhan tells him. “I know you value your independence but I think he will worry if he can't spoil you immediately.”

SiZhui turns and wraps his arms around his dad, smiling. 

“He's really back, isn't it, Dad?”

“Mn.”

There's so many feelings hidden in that one small word, and SiZhui thinks they can unpack them together, slowly. His Baba and his A-Die are together again after such a long separation, and this means he gets his Baba back, too. That's just the beginning of how to deal with this. His first emotional tackling is drowning in relief. Everything else will come afterwards. 

“I'll get Jin Ling settled in my apartment for now and bring over my stuff.”

“How is he? I am sorry for not asking earlier.”

“He won't mind that. He's too shocked at what his Jiujiu had done. He knows it was to keep his family safe, especially because his Dad was in danger from Jin GuangYao…but he hates that it was at such a high cost. He's talked with his mother, and she wants to come and visit, but she said she will wait until we say.” He pauses. “I've met her a few times…she's nice.”

“We will let your Baba decide.” Lan Zhan has taken a page out of Luo QingYang's book and decided to put Wei Ying first. He would have done that anyway, but seeing it in action fortified his own feelings regarding Wei Ying’s care. “We have time. We can take things at his pace.”

“When do you think he'll wake up?”

“Luo QingYang said his painkillers are the heavy duty ones. I think he will sleep until the morning, but rest is what will ease his migraine the most, and remember that he hit his head on the wall.”

“Was it bad?”

Lan Zhan thinks about how to answer him. Any injury to Wei Ying is bad, in his opinion. But since SiZhui is asking about it in terms of severity, he explains what the doctor said about it. “Head injuries bleed too much, make it seem like it's more serious than in actuality. The doctor will check on him tomorrow and the next few days, just to make sure.”

SiZhui nods against his neck, and Lan Zhan is reminded of the little person he used to be. How their son has grown up to be an independent young man…without his other father. The more time SiZhui is with them, the better. For all of them.

“You may invite Jin Rulan here for dinner tonight. Perhaps it is better if he's not alone…if he was close to his uncle.” Lan Zhan reconsiders. “Perhaps he might want to stay here tonight. You may ask if he wants the couch, then he is welcome to it.”

SiZhui agrees and reluctantly pulls away to get their evening started.

After he's gone, Lan Zhan spends a few moments restoring the living room to what it was before with the photos and trinkets that Wei Ying loved. Lan Zhan had wanted him to feel unpressured towards remembering his memories and so he had put certain pictures away. The trinkets were odd items, not purchased because they were valuable but because they had made them think of each other, a memento of their love. Now that Wei Ying is back, he will miss them being on the bookshelves. (Lan Zhan missed them too, all the while they weren't there whenever he looked up to find them.)

As he's walking past their bedroom, Lan Zhan’s fingers trace the edge of the door and the clouds that are engraved on the wood. He pushes the door gently open, his eyes alighting on the precious person asleep in their bed. He wants nothing more than to go and curl up next to him now, but their son and his friend will need him soon, and he still has to make dinner. Maybe they'll order in, and he can luxuriate in his thoughts that have centred around Wei Ying since this morning. That's a lie, one he recognises. He has never stopped thinking about Wei Ying, ever since he met him. It's a bit of a revelation. 

Wei Ying’s chest moves up and down in deep breaths, and he's restless even while unconscious. He's already moved twice in the few seconds Lan Zhan has watched him, and…Lan Zhan loves him so much. His hand wavers, hovering over his pocket where Wei Ying’s velvet box rests. There's a happiness glowing in his chest, the thought of Wei Ying just casually wanting to slip his ring on Lan Zhan’s finger while he slept, all those years ago. It's exactly like him to take away the pressure of such a huge promise. But they were so much younger back then.

They had no idea that they would be ripped apart by the tides of time, and making promises to each other felt different then, to how Lan Zhan would approach that subject now, thirteen years later. He wants to grab this chance with both hands and hold it inside his heart. He's so, so happy. It's made even better because he knows Wei Ying feels the same as he does.

His Zhiji.

His Beloved. 

His Xingan.

Whatever they decide, they'll do it together. 

The sound of the front door opening jolts Lan Zhan into moving away, quickly heading towards the drawer where they keep the takeaway leaflets, a habit they continue to honour Wei Ying by since he always saved them. There are food places on their phones, but it isn't the same.

Lan Zhan pulls some of them out and waits for the kids to come to him.

*****************

The smell of rice awakens the hungry beast hiding in Wei Ying’s tummy, and barely awake, he drags the sheet with him as he sixth senses his way towards the kitchen, eyes still happily shut and only blinking when he meets a possible obstruction. The sheet drags behind him and Wei Ying smiles when he reaches the kitchen because his favourite sight ever is there, busily cooking. He drops the sheet and pads over to Lan Zhan, slowly wrapping his arms around his waist from the back and leaning his cheek on him. His Lan Zhan is a heater, always running hot. No need for the sheet now.

He's wearing a long sleeved grey cotton T-shirt, softened by too many washes, and a pair of loose fitting sweatpants in the same colour. He's rolled up the sleeves to expose his muscled forearms with the three beauty spots under the knot of his wrist bone. He's a beautiful man.

Lan Zhan purposefully makes his movements slower so as not to jar him, and Wei Ying relaxes fully with a smile on his face. Lan Zhan is the best. There's no one like him. He sighs happily enjoying the peacefulness of the morning. It's still dark outside and the birds are just beginning to sing. He can't remember the last time he was awake this early, and yet he feels well rested and good tempered.

“Lan Zhan?” He whispers, after a while.

“Mn?”

“Good morning.”

“Mn. It is,” there's a smile in his voice, “a good morning.”

“I'm hungry.”

“Breakfast is nearly ready.”

“Yeah…but after, will you come back to bed with me? Just to nap.”

“Mn.”

“You will?” Wei Ying is so shocked, for a moment, he leans away so he can kiss the back of Lan Zhan’s lovely pale neck.

He shivers in response. “Mn.”

“But you never go back to bed unless you're ill!”

“Mn. Wei Ying has asked, so I will.”

“Really, Mr-I-get-up-at-five-and-start-my-day-like-a-crazy-person?”

He sounds so incredulous about it that Lan Zhan turns in his arms and with so much delight, gently takes hold of his beautiful face and kisses his forehead. The bandage has come off but it looks like Wei Ying doesn’t need it now. He can wear a shower cap or have a bath depending on what he feels like, later.

“See if I will deny you anything now.”

Wei Ying blinks at him.

Five…four…three…two…one–

“Laaan Zhaaaaaannnnn!” He wails, and Lan Zhan hugs him tightly, too happy to do anything else. He's so predictable. 

“Lan Zhan…Sweetheart, don't–wait, are you crying?” Wei Ying holds the back of his head, rubbing his back with soothing strokes. “Oh, my love, I'm here now. Shh, you can let it all out. I'm here. I love you. I love you so much,” he whispers, aching inside for this strong, resilient man. He rocks them gently from side to side until the worst of it is over. But what they've suffered through will take more than a few weeks to recover from. His own heart breaks for this lovely soul having had to endure so much. 

After a while, Lan Zhan squeezes him one more time before pulling away from him. He takes Wei Ying’s hands and brings his knuckles up to his lips, kissing them one at a time. Wei Ying melts, his heart never properly prepared for Lan Zhan’s romantic side. His eyes are red-rimmed, cheeks still wet when he turns around to wash his face at the kitchen sink.

“Sit,” he gestures with the spatula, when he returns to the stove.

“I wanna eat with you,” Wei Ying pouts, but he goes to sit anyway, tired from standing. He retrieves the sheet and wraps himself into a burrito, settling down to watch his favourite person bustling about in the cooking area.

Lan Zhan is as proficient in the kitchen as he is doing anything else, and it's a joy to witness his efficiency as he times everything so well. It's a flip of the pancake in the skillet, and while it cooks on the second side, the stir-fry is tossed so it won't burn, and then the kettle is switched on to boil water for their tea. One action leading to another, and the fragrant aroma combining all the scents of onions and rice and green peppers makes the beast roar in Wei Ying’s tummy. He giggles when Lan Zhan is taken aback at his appearance, because he's wrapped the sheet over his head since his ears were cold.

Lan Zhan smiles and brings the food over to the little table and after he's made sure to get the chilli oil, he sits down next to Wei Ying and lifts him onto his lap without any effort, as if Wei Ying weighs nothing more than a sack of potatoes. For a moment, Wei Ying nuzzles his shoulder, pleased at the turn of events, and then the smell of good home cooked food is too enticing.

He goes to take his arms out of the self-made prison sheet, but Lan Zhan stops him. 

“I will feed you,” he insists.

“That sounds kinky,” Wei Ying teases him, unable to resist.

“Behave,” Lan Zhan replies, and there's no heat behind the word, but he blinks away tears at the same time.

Wei Ying decides not to pursue it, seeing as Lan Zhan has already cried once today, and although letting out one's feelings like that is good, they're about to eat and it's incredibly hard to do it if you're weeping uncontrollably because your boyfriend missing for thirteen years is back and you don't know how to process it correctly, even if there is such a thing as the right way to cope with something like that. 

They used to eat like this before everything happened, and Lan Zhan is the best at it. First, he dumps a whole lot of chilli oil in Wei Ying’s separate bowl (separate for reasons), and stirs it in well before offering up the first bite to him. Then, with the same chopsticks (because he's missed the burn and he became used to it) because it's easier, he eats from his much paler portion.

Like that, with sporadic sips of hot jasmine tea, they finish breakfast just as SiZhui and Jin Ling enter the kitchen, yawning and rubbing their still sleepy eyes.

SiZhui beams at them, Jin Ling blushes, and Lan Zhan decides to leave them to it.

“Start the dishwasher when you're both done with breakfast,” he tells the kids.

And because SiZhui is the best boy ever, he comes over to hug Wei Ying tightly.

“I missed you, Baba.”

“Darling boy, I missed you more. Look at you, all grown up now!” Wei Ying has dropped the sheet in order to wrap him up in his embrace, the lump in his throat too big to let him say anything else. “A-Yuan…my boy.” 

Wei Ying leans back first, memorising his face, and comparing it with the one he knew so well before. Thirteen years separated them, and still, this is his beautiful little boy. His cheeks are a tiny bit less round, and his forehead is broader. His hair is an unruly mess at the moment because he's just woken up, but Wei Ying knows he will be as impeccable as his A-Die before leaving the house. That tiny cute button nose is still the one that belongs to A-Yuan. And so are those bright, shining silver eyes, so much like his own.

“I love you so much, my little Radish!” The tears come fast and hard, and no amount of wiping them away reduces them. By the end of it, Lan Zhan has wrapped his arms around both of them, their faces wet with happy tears.

SiZhui's stomach rumbles, and Wei Ying laughs, poking him there. “You have a monster in your tummy too! You really are my son!”

SiZhui giggles and then both he and Lan Zhan freeze.

“What? What is it?” Wei Ying glances at them from one to the other, hoping to understand. 

“He hasn't done that since you left,” Lan Zhan replies, looking away.

“Oh….” There isn't anything Wei Ying can say about that, and so he just goes to the sink to wash his face, like Lan Zhan had done before. These past thirteen years have been hard for everyone. 

That's when he sees Jin Rulan, looking out of the window at the back garden, and probably feeling awkward about them and the overflowing emotions.

“How're you doing, kid?” Wei Ying asks him, nudging him with his shoulder. He's only thirteen years old and still a child in his eyes.

“I'm fine,” he insists, side-eyeing Wei Ying. He's obviously not.

They can hear the other two moving around in the space behind them. Wei Ying can't just walk away from him, and while it's awkward, he knows who this child is. Jin Ling says it for him, beating him to it.

“Are you really my mother's brother?”

“I…was. I've never stopped thinking about her as my Jie-Jie.” It doesn't seem right to say anything else, not when this kid wasn't even born when Wei Ying was disowned by the Jiangs. And really, is there any point to rehashing the past? 

Madam Yu and Jiang Fengmian are dead. Jiang Cheng will finally be brought to justice for killing Mo XuanYu, and whatever shady deals he had going with Jin GuangYao. As far as Wei Ying is concerned, that part of his life is over. It's time to start writing on a new page, fresh and clean, unblemished from the past.

“She wants to come and visit,” Jin Ling says.

“Tell her…tell her, I'll think about it. For now.” Wei Ying catches Lan Zhan’s eyes and there he sees approval for his decision. “How did you and SiZhui meet, anyway? Five years is a bit of a gap, right?” he muses, tapping the side of his nose.

“SiZhui volunteers some evenings in the community centre in Yiling. Yunmeng isn't far from there.” Lan Zhan offers, nodding towards their child.

SiZhui launches into a whole explanation about himself, Jin Ling and two others, Lan JingYi and Ouyang Zizhen who are starting their own band. They're just beginning to branch out with busking gigs and small venues for now, mostly in their free time because all of them are still in school. SiZhui explains that when they're on tour, he completes his courses online.

A yawn surprises Wei Ying, and then it's a fight to stay awake because he really wants to know more but SiZhui laughs at him and pushes him gently towards his other Dad.

“You should rest, Baba. We'll be here when you wake up. Even if we end up going out, we'll be back for dinner.” He waves as Lan Zhan guides Wei Ying away.

“Your Dads are really cool,” they hear Jin Ling say.

“Hear that, Lan Zhan? You're cool,” Wei Ying giggles sleepily, dragging his feet. Then he yelps when Lan Zhan bends and picks him up with an arm under his knees and the other at his back to support him.

“So are you, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan replies, just as fast. 

The door to their room is open and he pads quietly towards their bed, gently putting Wei Ying down. Wei Ying makes grabby hands at him, and Lan Zhan follows him into the bed. It's a little bit awkward at first as they get comfortable, but then Lan Zhan, tired of all the fidgeting, simply pulls Wei Ying closer, wrapping his arms around his body.

The warmth and the soothing natural smell of clean linen and sandalwood relaxes Wei Ying, making him melt against the wall of muscle underneath him.

“You have to sleep, too, m'love,” Wei Ying slurs, already half asleep. 

“Mn.”

The comfortable weight of a soft Wei Ying on him makes Lan Zhan close his eyes too, and sleep comes quickly. 

********************

Wei Ying is drawing a pattern of circles on his chest when Lan Zhan wakes up. This simple wish coming true for him after so long feels fragile, like a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment. At first, he hardly breathes in case the movement disturbs his lovely boyfriend. Lan Zhan studies him instead, feeling warm all over.

This Wei Ying’s chin is a little sharper, his cheekbones more defined. There are crow's feet wrinkling at the corners of his eyes, still as big and beautiful as the first time they had found him. His hair, the messy bangs with that one untamed lock refusing to lie down, tickles Lan Zhan’s nose. That familiar smell of him, of vanilla and lotus flowers still so true, makes Lan Zhan’s eyes wet with happiness. The mole under his lip and the other at the side of his right eye…Lan Zhan remembers kissing it for the first time. All those years ago.

He must have made a noise because Wei Ying looks up and smiles at him. Then he notices the shimmering tears leaking from his eyes and Wei Ying’s expression changes into one of distress. His thumbs wipe under Lan Zhan’s eyes ever so tenderly, kissing his eyelids gently afterwards. 

“I'm here, Sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere. We're right here, together,” he promises.

“That's not why–” Lan Zhan tries to explain, throat thick with feeling.

“Not why you're crying?” Wei Ying finishes his question.

“Mn. It's this.” Lan Zhan swallows hard and gestures at them, at the length of Wei Ying upon himself. “I have wanted this for the longest time,” he manages to say.

“You can have it forever,” Wei Ying vows. He rests his cheek above Lan Zhan’s heart, the steady thumpety-thump of it soothing under his ear. “I'm not sleepy any more but I want to stay like this for a bit.”

“Mn. The doctor is coming later,” Lan Zhan informs him. “To see your wound. Yesterday, he said it was healing well. Rest is good for you.”

“Let's make a deal,” Wei Ying offers.

“Mn?”

“I'll lie down if you do it with me. Otherwise, this bed is too big.” He raises a mischievous brow, and Lan Zhan can feel those lovely lips smiling, curving against his thin shirt.

“Deal.”

Wei Ying is quiet for a few minutes, and Lan Zhan can tell that he's thinking.

“Lan Zhan…I want to tell you a secret. But I'm scared because I don't want to hurt you any more.”

“Wei Ying can tell me anything. Ask any questions. I am not afraid.”

“But Lan Zhan, I am.”

“Secrets are bad.”

“I know. But this one is worse because it's also about me. I think it is, anyway.”

“I think you should just say it, whatever it is. Then we can decide how to deal with it. Together.”

“Okay…so here goes.” Wei Ying’s eyes flicker up towards him, and then as if gaining strength from Lan Zhan, he continues. “A few nights ago, I was thirsty at night. I went downstairs and I was just about to go into the kitchen when I heard a noise in the living room. The light was on and I thought you forgot to close it. But then I saw you crying.”

“You didn't come in?”

“I couldn't. It felt like a private moment. Like I shouldn't be there.” Wei Ying turns a little and sits up, throwing a leg over Lan Zhan so that he's straddling him. “Are you upset with me? It was an accident, I didn't mean to–”

Lan Zhan’s one hand lifts up to put a finger vertically over Wei Ying’s lips to silence him, his other hand holding his hip. The room is dark with just a pale glow coming from underneath the door making Lan Zhan’s gorgeous golden eyes appear almost black as he stares at Wei Ying, thinking.

“I am not upset,” he says quietly, after a few moments. 

“Okay. Then…?”

“I think if you had entered the room, I would not have coped very well. At the time, you believed you were Mo XuanYu, and that was as good as a physical barrier between us. Any interruption would have been unwelcome, so good call.” Lan Zhan’s finger retracts and comes down Wei Ying’s body to hold his other hip, coaxing him to lie down again, which Wei Ying does. Lan Zhan pulls the sheet over them, across Wei Ying’s shoulders, letting his own arms lazily hug him closer in a loose grip. “But now, the return of your memories means you are my Wei Ying again, and I find that I wish you to know everything, no matter what it is. I cannot think of a single thing that would make me upset with you. I want you to be as free as you can be, not just with me but with yourself as well.”

“Meaning?”

“Don't hold back. Please harbour no doubts that you belong here, with me. And SiZhui. And the band. Your place with us is one reserved just for you. All of us have been waiting a long, long time for you to come back to be with us.”

“Okay,” Wei Ying says simply, turning his face so he can kiss Lan Zhan’s chest. “Will you show me what you were looking at that night?”

“Mn. Now?”

“Yes, please.”

“Then stay here for a bit while I get the fire started again. Otherwise it will be cold. There was a frost this morning.” Lan Zhan lifts Wei Ying up so he can slide out from underneath him.

“That is another thing I love about you,” Wei Ying sighs, turning his face to take a deep breath of the sandalwood fragrance that seems to follow Lan Zhan around all the time. 

He misses the way Lan Zhan falters by the door.

*******************

Lan Zhan returns a good fifteen minutes later to find Wei Ying having burrrito-ed himself in the sheet again. He lifts him into his arms and carries him down the stairs into the lounge. The fire is hot and the room is toasty warm, and he settles Wei Ying onto the sofa, leaving a small space next to him. Then he pulls the coffee table closer, which has a cardboard box still closed perched near the edge of it.

Lan Zhan sits down in the tiny gap he left for himself, and Wei Ying is just about to ask him why, when he's suddenly lifted and placed carefully in Lan Zhan’s arms, back resting against Lan Zhan’s chest.

“Okay?” Lan Zhan’s lips are touching his temple, and his arms are enclosing them in a warm hug.

“Yeah.” For some reason, Wei Ying feels breathless, but in the best way. “You have the most insane strength,” he whispers, feeling Lan Zhan’s mouth curve against his skin. He feels safe and protected, cocooned from the outside world and so looked after, content inside this bubble they've made. “Are you comfortable, though?”

“Mn. I always want you in my arms.” And then Lan Zhan pulls the box into their lap and opens up the flaps as if he hasn't just delivered the most devastating line to Wei Ying’s poor little heart.

There are pictures inside.

Lan Zhan takes them out, one by one, and really, they should be preserved inside an album, and Wei Ying makes a mental note to buy one soon. Lan Zhan reminds him of what they were doing when these photos were taken, what he was thinking at the time. They're all mixed up and in no particular order, just a bunch of dear, precious memories collected inside this fragile container. 

“Our first cinema trip with A-Yuan.”

“Shopping for the Mid-Autumn festival.”

“Sharing a moon cake with A-Yuan.” This one is one of his favourites. He and Lan Zhan (well, mostly Lan Zhan) had made a massive mooncake and the three of them were in the shot, all biting into it at the same time.

“This one, I remember we all squeezed into Wen Qing's dorm room for A-Yuan's fourth birthday. We had a party for him.” Wei Ying reminisces, smiling.

“He was so happy that day,” Lan Zhan agrees.

This photo has everyone in it, a held up high camera shot from a phone. All of them looking up and smiling, hearts full and happy.

“So much love there,” Wei Ying murmurs.

But then, the photos become sadder. Most of them feature Lan Zhan and A-Yuan, or both Wen ning, Wen Qing and A-Yuan, however, there is a consistent empty space in all of them. A-Yuan gets progressively older, though the changes in his companions are less noticeable. 

It's too much for today, so Wei Ying delves past them deeper into the box, he finally finds a few with just himself and Lan Zhan. 

They're sitting on a park bench, bundled up in badly knitted hats and scarves with prominent holes, smiling with ruddy cheeks and pink noses, too young and unknowingly in love.

“Never did get the hang of knitting,” Wei Ying muses, his heart lighter than before.

“Mn.” 

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying twists towards him with fake outrage. “You're not supposed to agree with me! You have to be supportive!”

There is a moment. 

It feels bigger than both of them, something there to mark a before and after of a huge event. Something so meaningful that it cannot be captured with just words.

And then Lan Zhan is kissing him. He's so gentle, as if he's holding back, and Wei Ying can't stand that, surging up to press him back against the sofa, their lips just kissing and kissing and kissing. Coming home, that's what this feels like. To feel each other like this, the weight of Lan Zhan, his hands holding a bruising grip around Wei Ying’s waist, knowing with certainty that there will be marks and relishing the idea of them, then being swept away on a current of passion that allows no coherent thoughts whatsoever. This, Wei Ying realises, this is what his mouth is for, to worship his Lan Zhan and let him understand how precious he is, how much he is loved and loved and loved.

Lan Zhan had been telling the truth when he said his arms were for holding his Wei Ying. To feel him so closely, pressed chest to chest, to be aware of their hearts beating together like drums in a marching band, he would give everything he had to experience this again. Wei Ying is real. Wei Ying is here, and he is loved so automatically, so naturally, that Lan Zhan has to wonder if there ever was a time when he wasn't. It is right, and it is all encompassing, a love that surrounds them like a blanket.

All they need is each other.

*************

A/N

Yes!! There are more parts to come…before you ask. 😄💑💍🔔

Chapter Text

Lan Zhan has messaged the band and told them bits and pieces of what happened with Jin GuangYao and Jiang WanYin, and while they're shocked at the turn of events, they're more concerned about Wei Ying getting his memory back. They're all cutting their trips away shorter and aiming to arrive in the Cloud Recesses as soon as they can.

So of course, Wei Ying wants to buy them presents. Lan Zhan makes him use his phone to do it, sneakily paying for everything before showing Wei Ying his bank balance.

Wei Ying’s jaw drops, and he gives Lan Zhan a playful shove. “If I've got my own money, then why won't you let me pay for stuff?”

“You are paying,” Lan Zhan tells him confidently, kissing the top of his head fondly as he moves away to finish wiping the dishes. There's an unmistakably smug aura about him.

“How so?” Wei Ying demands, not understanding. 

“Everything that I have, everything that I am, it is all yours. My money is your money, ergo, you are still paying.”

They're tidying up after breakfast, and Wei Ying isn't looking when he sticks his hand in the second cutlery drawer. So, at first, he doesn't register what ends up in his hand as he tries to figure out a way to argue Lan Zhan’s point. But he sees the way Lan Zhan’s face goes slack with shock, eyes wide full of alarm, and he looks down too, following the trajectory of his gaze.

Wei Ying starts off by saying, “I'm pretty sure that's not the way it wor–wait, what's this?” He ends in a whisper, looking at the pale blue velvet box.

He puts it on the counter in front of him and steps back, just staring at it. Lan Zhan comes and puts a black velvet box next to it and then retreats to stand by him. That one, Wei Ying recognises as the one he bought himself after saving up every penny. The ring inside that box, he can never forget what it looks like or what he had the goldsmith engrave on the inside where only the wearer would know. That black velvet box was hidden away for thirteen long years. His eyes drift over to the pale blue box. He can guess from Lan Zhan’s reaction, what is inside.

“When did you buy that?” Wei Ying asks him, still whispering and looking straight ahead.

“The day after our debut supporting Hard Knot. Remember, the screaming band?”

“Yep. They were unforgettable, no?” Wei Ying giggles. Then it cuts off suddenly as he turns his glorious big eyes towards Lan Zhan with a hand on his arm. “Hang on?!! You mean–when I–”

“Mn. You accidentally said you loved me.”

“Ahuh…accidentally only because I'd planned out our date night straight after the show, like, right down to the second because you, my love, deserve to be courted properly. And then, when we were helping the stagehands with our equipment, you took something from my hands because I was struggling–”

“That was a metal trunk of speakers. Definitely a two-person job. That guy shouldn't have left you to it, not when we were paying them to clear the stage for the main act.” Lan Zhan is still annoyed about that.

“Yeah! And I just said it quietly, but I had forgotten the mic.” He shakes his head, laughing. “Imagine announcing “I love you” in front of thousands like that? It was i-n-s-a-n-e!!”

“Easily disposed of.” Lan Zhan remembers. “The mic.”

“Didn't you just rip it off, though?” Wei Ying giggles again, lost in the recollection of those memories. “Flung into the crowd! Not that anyone needed to hear what we said because you sure gave them a show after that!”

Lan Zhan’s ears are the same colour as the scarlet checks on the dish towel. 

It wasn't his fault that he'd been taken completely off guard by Wei Ying’s declaration, a confession that he, too, had planned on doing later on that same evening. But he'd turned around and seen the way Wei Ying’s eyes darted around, shocked at the words that had fallen from his lips like confetti. At that moment, Lan Zhan hadn't stopped to think. He needed to show Wei Ying that it wasn't one-sided, that he also felt the love between them. It wasn't just a flash-in-the-pan attraction, here today, and gone tomorrow. Being near Wei Ying was like sticking his hand into a live socket, or freefalling into a waterfall. 

So he had dumped the trunk on the ground and in two strides, reached Wei Ying, pulling him forward with a hard tug on his waist, uncaring about their audience. Their lips had crashed together with no thoughts. That kiss was everything he could wish for and more, setting him alight from within. Tongue, teeth, lips, the works, and the noises Wei Ying was making had blasted them into the stratosphere with new heights of passion they'd never explored before.

The crowd had roared and the stage manager had dropped the curtain, finally giving them some privacy. But that single kiss had gone viral, catapulting them into the spotlight across several platforms and paving the way for their future success.

“You said you were going to just stick it on my finger while I was asleep,” Lan Zhan pouts, accusing him. He pokes Wei Ying’s shoulder about it.

“Oh, my God! I'm sorry, okay?? I was talking about my younger self!” Wei Ying protests. “I'd never do anything like that now!” He turns to Lan Zhan and jumps into his arms, kissing that adorable pout. Looking down at him, he grins and flutters his lashes. “I can make it special,” he insists.

“Mn. See that you do,” Lan Zhan replies, kissing his forehead. It's a direct contrast, his action to his words. “Now it's time to rest.” He starts walking before Wei Ying can protest, and takes them both into the bedroom. “The doctor said a couple more weeks of rest and you will be fine. After that, resting will be as and when you want to, at your discretion.”

“Lan Zhaaaaaannnnn! I don't wanna!!” Wei Ying complains, whining. He kicks his feet against a muscular backside, and it changes nothing. Lan Zhan carries on without so much as a blink, putting Wei Ying down on their bed first before lying down on top of him. It's the only way to keep him here, he's discovered lately, because the better he gets, the less Wei Ying wants to nap.

“Oomphf!” The air is crushed out of his lungs and Wei Ying blinks up at him, dazed. “You know,” he wiggles his hips suggestively, “there are other things you can do in bed.”

“Mn.”

“Really?” Wei Ying gets all excited immediately and then Lan Zhan kisses his nose. “Wei Ying may read in bed later, now go to sleep.” Wei Ying, outraged at himself for falling for it, tries to argue and this time, Lan Zhan kisses him properly. 

For the past few days, Lan Zhan has been learning something new every day, about this form of communication. It is as nuanced as every single language ever created, and he's discovering daily how much he can convey through every slide of eager lips. A message without words, he pours everything he's feeling into the gentle suck of Wei Ying’s bottom lip, the velvet lushness of it soft and equally demanding. The way Wei Ying’s mouth chases after his own, needing more. But Lan Zhan has another trick up his sleeve and he uses it now, to take away all of Wei Ying’s energy. He bites down as suddenly as a crack of lightning, soothing away the sting with a sweet, final kiss.

Wei Ying’s hand weakly pats his shoulder. “Not fair,” he murmurs, half asleep already. “Love juju is banned,” and his words are slurring.

Lan Zhan smiles down at him, planting one final kiss on his forehead. “Sleep, Wei Ying. You are safe.” 

That thought lets him close his eyes too, and they both fall asleep quietly. 

*********************

A few weeks later, Mianmian calls Lan Zhan for an update on Wei Ying’s condition. That would be fine if he was asleep, but he squawks in outrage, jumping out of his seat to grab the phone out of Lan Zhan’s hand. But Lan Zhan has been getting wise to his antics and he nimbly runs into the lounge, climbing onto the sofa with the phone held aloft so Wei Ying can't reach it (those few inches of height on Lan Zhan DO give him the advantage).

“Doctor Chan FengLi gave him the all clear half an hour ago. Prescribed rest and to monitor the headaches. Otherwise, he's fine!” Lan Zhan leaps like a gazelle onto the next bit of furniture, as Wei Ying tries the underhanded technique of tickling him. The conversation continues despite Wei Ying being a naughty gremlin in between, shouting out his part of the answers. 

“Would you say he's alright for a visit? We have news.” Now that she's sounding so much more serious, Lan Zhan pauses with one hand on Wei Ying’s head to hold him in place. “Would you be amenable to a visit from your best friend, Ms. Luo QingYang?” Lan Zhan asks him.

“YES!” Wei Ying shouts so she can hear him.

Mianmian laughs and hangs up.

Wei Ying lunges for Lan Zhan just as he tosses the phone across the room, perfectly aimed at the loveseat, whilst simultaneously grabbing Wei Ying in midair and twisting them both so that Lan Zhan’s back hits the sofa seat first, cushioning his beloved from the fall. They lie there out of breath, a tangle of limbs all hot and sweaty.

“This reminds me of that yoga lesson,” Wei Ying pants.

“When you pretended to make mistakes with the poses?” Lan Zhan arches a perfect brow at him.

“Rumbled!” Wei Ying bursts into peals of laughter. “I thought I was being sneaky but I just wanted you to touch me.”

His admission makes Lan Zhan’s eyes darken. He flips them over suddenly, not giving Wei Ying a chance to recover and stealing his breath all in one go. His lips descend on that flirty pink mouth, teasing, biting down and taking his own pleasure. His hands roam, one capturing the back of Wei Ying’s neck to hold him in place while the other begins to explore under his black sweatshirt. Lan Zhan loves feeling the softness of his skin, the fragility under his fingertips of the indentations of his ribcage, the way his heart beats like the wings of a hummingbird. Lan Zhan feels his desire as his leg slots in between both of Wei Ying’s, his hips pushing down in an uncontrollable rhythm. His breath stutters in his lungs as he pauses, leaning their foreheads together so they can catch a break.

“Lan Zhan.”

Silver eyes, so earnest and true, stare back at him full of promise. 

“Mn?”

“I-I'm ready. I know you've been holding back…but I want you. The doctor gave us the all clear, and … I don't want you to stop. I'm okay now, I really am. And I'm all yours. Take me.” He holds his breath, waiting, hoping.

Lan Zhan searches his expression, making sure. His lovely silver eyes are sparkling with the truth, shimmering like a glitter ball in a dance hall.

Wei Ying sees the moment he decides and it's enough to make him shiver with anticipation. Just to be a brat, he goads Lan Zhan by saying, “I dare you.”

A growl leaves his mouth and Lan Zhan pounces.

******************

Mianmian knocks on the door of the Jingshi the next day, and she's not alone.

Huaisang follows her inside, looking around as Lan Zhan invites them in. Wei Ying had followed Lan Zhan out when he'd gone to open the door, and now everyone sits down. Lan Zhan pours the tea, a black oolong today, suitable for the mid-morning with just enough caffeine to keep them alert. The cups already have a dash of peach honey, locally sourced.

The fire crackles merrily in the hearth, sending out bright orange sparks now and again whenever a log moves by the eager flames. Peace is enjoyed by the ones sitting there, all of them aware of what a miracle their reunion is.

When Wei Ying looks up, Mianmian is staring back at him with wet eyes, and she covers up her emotions by taking a long, long sip of her tea. “It's good to see you like this, A-Yu…I mean, A-Ying. God, I suppose you're both so it slips out easily. Sorry.”

“No, no, Mianmian. We spent so much time together while I was Mo XuanYu only for you. It's understandable. No need for sorry.” Wei Ying jumps up and refills her cup, smiling at her. “You got me through the worst parts, you know. And even after I found out that I wasn't who I thought I was, that I'd have to face the huge black hole in my memories and try to delve through them, you were my rock. I couldn't have done it without you.” In for a penny, in for a pound, Wei Ying thinks and asks her the question that has been plaguing his mind. “But ah, you know both of you somehow know things? I've been meaning to ask you if you have any idea where the real Mo XuanYu is buried? I just wanted to go and pay my respects. If that's possible.”

“Actually, we think Jin Guangshan had him cremated. We don't know what he might have done with the ashes, though.” Mianmian admits.

Huaisang hands her a tissue as Wei Ying returns to the loveseat Lan Zhan had picked on purpose so no one else could sit next to them. His huge warm hand is an anchor on Wei Ying’s knee after he sits down, and the connection is immediate. Wei Ying doesn’t want to exist in a world where Lan Zhan isn't touching him in one way or another. His arm wraps firmly around Lan Zhan’s waist, pulling himself closer. “We can tell the priest in Caiyi Town. Hold a ceremony to rest his soul,” Lan Zhan promises.

“Yes, please. It feels like the right thing to do.” Wei Ying doesn't miss the way Huaisang's eyes gleam with a calculating intensity.

“I owe you both an apology,” he says, standing up suddenly. 

“Boss–” Luo QingYang stands up too, maybe to stop him.

“No. It's the truth.” Huaisang replies, and then Luo QingYang bows to Wei Ying and Lan Zhan, too. “If he's going to apologise, then I must, too. We are both responsible for making difficult choices, back then.”

“Look, let's not be like that with each other,” Wei Ying quickly says, already alarmed. “Apologies make me super uncomfortable. No need for that. Why don't you guys just explain properly why you think you need to. That's better than all this.” He waves a hand between them and then looks over to Lan Zhan to see what he thinks about this.

“Mn. You said you have news,” Lan Zhan replies, giving them an opening. 

Huaisang glances at Luo QingYang to continue.

“Jiang WanYin is to face manslaughter charges. He's looking at spending the rest of his life in prison. Su Minshan is to be tried in a private court, alongside Xue Yang where they are expected to be incarcerated for their various crimes. Xue Yang has a reputation for disposing of anyone who looks like a problem for Jin GuangYao. Su Minshan was just a loyal dog really, so his charges are a little less. Aiding and abetting. We found Zhao Zhuliu, by the way.” Mianmian looks extremely pleased by that.

“Where?” Wei Ying feels cold and he tries to suppress a shiver. But before he can, Lan Zhan is already pulling the blanket from behind them on the back of the loveseat to drape it around his shoulders and then pulling him close again, all within a few seconds. He smiles up at Lan Zhan, feeling much better.

Mianmian’s eyes are much softer when she replies. “Koi Tower. Where else? Jin GuangYao had a whole separate wing on his level, hidden by a golden mirror. Our team was combing through the evidence we'd collected from the safe in Jin GuangYao's office, and they came across the blueprints for Koi Tower. One of them noticed a discrepancy in the calculations regarding the walls and went to investigate with a team. They tried to stop him,” she smirks as if there's a joke hidden in her words.

“What about Jin GuangYao? What's going to happen to him?”

“Private court.” Mianmian says at the same time as Huaisang replies with, “Nothing good, hopefully.” Then he smiles, and it's cold. “Actually, I don't have to hope. I know.”

“Mn?”

“My Boss knows people,” Luo QingYang says, enigmatically. 

Huaisang looks up at them sitting together across from him, and at this moment, it feels sacred. Monumental, even. The few seconds it takes him to come to a decision, as Wei Ying watches his hazel eyes turn and change right in front of him, he knows he's never going to forget it.

“My apology, it was for keeping you apart for so long. Keeping you away from people who cared about you.” Huaisang calmly finishes his tea and covers his cup with his hand when Wei Ying starts getting up to pour more tea. “You see, when you went to that meeting, I knew it was dangerous, but I was a kid myself and I wasn't that great at getting into places I wasn't welcome. Especially with security and firewalls and all that jazz. But I never expected them to go that far. That was my biggest mistake. Underestimating my enemies. You see, I had no idea how rotten the Jins were. I knew Jin Guangshan was a lecherous son of a bitch, but the connection between them and Nightless City Corporation was one I discovered too late, otherwise that meeting between you and them would never have taken place. I realised early on that if I wanted to understand what the Wens were doing, and I mean the ins and outs of the music industry, I'd have to start my own label. 

“Da-Ge was already working hard at the time, and although he wasn't supposed to, he would come home with files and files of cases, things that seemed unrelated but I found a common thread.”

“YOU found a common thread?” Wei Ying asks him, both incredulous and disbelieving. 

“Hey, I pay attention if it matters,” Huaisang defends himself, a slight flush in his cheeks. “Okay, I wasn't the best student.”

“Not the best??” Wei Ying squawks at him. He only lowers his voice when Lan Zhan gives his knee a warm squeeze. “Fine, alright, we believe you.” His tone says otherwise. 

“See, it was all about contracts, the exact wording on them. Newbie bands and solo artists wouldn't have teams of lawyers to look through them, picking apart the words that would trap them into allowing the Wens to bleed them dry, work them into the ground without any actual advantages. Music industry vampires.”

“You forget, I saw the one they wanted me to sign.” Wei Ying shakes his head. “We both knew it was dangerous, but I should have listened to you. I'm glad you made me wear that wire. Obviously, Jin GuangYao took it, and it ended up being an axe on his own foot. But still, I shouldn't have gone.”

“But the thing is, Wei-Xiong, if you hadn't, we would never have found out about their web of connections, about exactly who was involved in their shitty businesses. And you're forgetting how powerful the Wens were. Nobody could touch them, and the only reason they're behind bars is because people started asking questions and Jin Guangshan decided it was too risky,” Huaisang argues.

“So he threw them under the bus.” Wei Ying knows he sounds bitter, but he can't help thinking about these past thirteen years. All that lost time, spent apart from his family. Not able to see A-Yuan grow up into the wonderful young man he is today. Not be with Lan Zhan like he wanted, and the band. His second family, just as important. If he'd never lost his memories, he and Lan Zhan would have been married by now. Perhaps with more beautiful souls nurtured within their family. 

“Going back to Da-Ge, because this is vital. You know I said he brought files home? Nobody knew that's what he was doing, and he only did that because the station where he worked was woefully understaffed and he never seemed to have enough time. All the case files were kept under lock and key and you had to have a special pass to access them. Everything was online, but even then, you had to be cleared for access. That's how he found out that someone was hacking into the police database and systematically changing the records, in some cases, deleting whole pages. What they didn't realise is that Da-Ge had made copies of the originals and that's how he found out what was happening. He started spending less and less time with me and poring over those papers and comparing them to the official online versions and coming up short.” Huaisang clears his throat uncomfortably. “The only reason I'm telling you all this is because I think you should know. And also, it will never leave this room.”

“Or?” Wei Ying asks, just because. He can never resist a challenge. 

“I'd have to kill you and make it look like an accident,” Huaisang replies, looking him straight in the eye when he says it.

“He's joking!” Mianmian quickly interjects, throwing a warning look at her boss.

Wei Ying can't tell, and he doesn't want to find out. Just in case, he says, “Listen, I've just got Lan Zhan and SiZhui, and the band back. I'm not going to jeopardise that.”

“I know.” Huaisang sounds smug, like he expected nothing less. “But to continue, I got curious one night. I started sneakily copying the original files making a separate database for Da-Ge. He kept putting the weirdest shit on fluorescent yellow post-it notes all over the pages, and I realised that he was making the most random connections, but they made sense. There was a pattern to his madness, and it led straight to a young man. Su Minshan. A lowly intern at the time, and the thing is, he kept a low profile at the station. I mean, seriously, you would not notice him. Not unless you were specifically watching him. You see, he was already friends with Jin GuangYao, but because they met in secret, no one knew.”

“Did your brother find something?” Wei Ying asks him. Out of everyone there, even Mianmian, and aside from Huaisang himself, only he knows how close Huaisang truly was with Nie MingJue. Everyone on the outside of those two would see an older brother always shouting at his younger sibling to do better, constantly telling him off about his lack of ambition, his flighty superficial nature and how he should pay more attention to his own business rather than gossip about his peers. But Wei Ying had spent enough time around the Nie brothers to be able to see the love and care behind every home cooked meal and every bottle of water slipped into Huaisang's bag without him knowing. Their mothers had been different but you'd never have known that from the way MingJue looked after his baby brother. 

“Back then, Da-Ge was close to Lan XiChen. He often spoke about confidential things, mostly because they were close…and he had no idea I knew what he was doing. Plus I think he wanted someone his own age to confide in and they were on the cusp of exploring their closeness. I like to think that if my brother had never chosen to be a detective, and actually be so goddamn good at it, then we'd have been related through the marriage of our brothers,” Huaisang tells that part to Lan Zhan. “But ironically, trusting Lan XiChen was his downfall. It led to his murder.”

“What?” Lan Zhan is suddenly stiff, full of tension. He's sitting with his back straight, glaring at Huaisang for breathing, it looks like.

Huaisang quickly holds his palms out to placate him. “Ah, I didn't mean to imply anything by that. Your brother, I'm sure, just wanted to help. But he trusted the wrong person. He thought if he asked Jin GuangYao directly for an explanation, he could relay it all back to Da-Ge and therefore, solve the cases. He naively thought it was just a coincidence that all the case files mentioned the Jin Conglomerate and the Nightless City Corporation, however slightly. Da-Ge didn't believe in coincidence and correctly understood the crimes, and who was behind the huge web of lies and deceit. But the master manipulator managed to convince Lan XiChen that it was just a huge misunderstanding, that his dad would never do something as vile as killing people for money, because, ha ha, who would do that, and that obviously, Lan XiChen had watched too many mafia films and was letting his imagination get away from him.”

“My brother always believed in the best of people.” 

“Well, his wishful naivety got my brother killed.” Huaisang lashes out, and just for a second, Wei Ying sees how angry he is, the honest emotion spewing up like a volcano of ash. 

But it's gone as fast as it came, and it is replaced by coolness. “Anyway…Lan XiChen's mistake made Jin GuangYao realise that despite his own meddling in erasing the evidence, Da-Ge was just too good as a detective. If he didn't do something fast, everything his awful father made him do would hit the papers and he'd be ruined. So he waited for a night when I was away from home and he made a plan. He was going to kill Da-Ge by making it look like a burglary gone wrong. I don't think he knew how much Da-Ge had on him, certainly he didn't know about the files.” Huaisang’s hands are shaking as he stares into the fire, not really looking at it.

No one says anything, afraid to break the terrible silence. Only the spitting flames separate the moments of quiet.

“I loved my brother. And that bastard son of a whore took him from me.” Huaisang looks up at Lan Zhan and Wei Ying. “I found Da-Ge in the office, lying in a pool of his own blood. It was too late to save him. But when I saw the broken safe, the missing files, and by the way, they didn't leave a single one, I knew. I knew who had done it. That fucking cunt had the balls to cry to my face about it, and your brother, Lan XiChen comforted him, right in front of me. Can you imagine what that was like? To see him, better than any actor on the silver screen, pretend to be upset over the death of my brother when he was the one to arrange it? Plan it? He murdered him. That was when I knew I had to be smarter than him. I had to be a better actor than him, hide my heart, and it was so hard to do that when I just wanted him dead. God, I hated him so much! But I didn't realise how far the corruption went, even extending to other countries because the Jin pockets were deep and all the liars, all the corrupt officials stuck together with tar and made it impossible for me to walk up to any judge and tell them what I knew. I had the evidence, at least the bare bones of it, but I couldn't take a chance.

“By this time, I'd already hacked into the Jin computer software, past all their stupid security measures. You'd already disappeared, Wei-Xiong, and I'd recruited Mianmian by then. You were the key and if I could keep you safe and find out the connection between Su Minshan and Jin GuangYao, I'd have a case against them. Jin GuangYao had already murdered my brother, but he had a watertight alibi, and so did Su Minshan. I didn't know about Xue Yang until recently, and then we found that USB. 

“Securing the private court meant finding a judge high enough that was vulnerable, that was on the Jin payroll.”

“What? No way! Surely they'd get Jin GuangYao off?” Wei Ying protests.

“He won't.” Huaisang sounds confident of that. “I have something on his supervisor that ensures he will find Jin GuangYao and all the people who helped him, guilty. What happens after is between him and God.” 

That sounds like a threat.

“I have a question,” Mianmian says, watching Lan Zhan warily, and Wei Ying has to remind himself that she doesn't know him like Wei Ying does.

“Mn?”

“Did Lan XiChen know what Wei WuXian looked like? And if so, how come he didn't say anything?”

“They only met once,” Lan Zhan informs her. “It was too brief and by the time they met again, Wei Ying was thoroughly convinced he was Mo XuanYu. Even if Ge brought it up and asked directly, Wei Ying would have convinced him he was Mo XuanYu regardless.”

Huaisang and Mianmian don't stay for long after that. Just as they reach the door, Huaisang turns to Lan Zhan. 

“Where's Lan XiChen now?”

“With my Uncle. He'll stay there for now.” Lan Zhan thinks about how hard it must be to see reminders of his husband and know everything was a lie. That was probably why Lan XiChen refused to go near the Hanshi.

“Perhaps I can set his mind at ease before we go,” Huaisang tells Mianmian. 

“I'll wait in the car,” she says. 

They watch him leave walking towards Lan Qiren's home. Then Mianmian turns to Wei Ying. 

“You,” she pokes his chest. “Don't be a stranger. I miss going clubbing with you, even if you never danced with me.”

“Hey, I made a fantastic wingman. But also, Wen Qing is coming back any day now.” Wei Ying laughs outright at the sudden interest in her eyes before she remembers herself. 

“I don't know why you think I'd want to know about that.” She shrugs, pretending to be nonchalant.

“Yeah, I wonder why,” Wei Ying agrees, still laughing as he playfully pushes her back after she does that to him.

************************

“Lan Zhan, can we go for a walk?” Wei Ying asks him, after they've had lunch. “I feel restless. My head feels like it's way too small for what's inside it, and something needs to fall out.”

“Mn.” Lan Zhan is already moving towards the closet where their coats are.

Outside, the wind is fresh and cold as mountain air often is aside from summertime when it can still be that way if it chooses to be. Autumn has well and truly settled among the branches of an old, magnificent gingko tree, its branches lofty and high sending a golden shower over them as they stroll past. Wei Ying stops and takes his camera out to capture a brilliant flame tree, its leaves cherry red and shades of saffron. The sky is a wonderful blue backdrop against the vivid colours, and Lan Zhan patiently poses for him, eyes as warm as the amber leaves under their feet. In a playful move, he yanks Wei Ying closer and kisses him deeply, simultaneously taking a hundred pictures all at once of them. Smiling at the shock on Wei Ying’s face, he calmly selects the best one and sends it to himself, before giving the phone back.

As soon as they start walking, he takes Wei Ying’s hand and clasps their fingers together, putting both of their hands in his own jacket pocket.

“Who needs hand warmers when they've got a boyfriend like you,” Wei Ying teases, covering up the fact that every time Lan Zhan does something so sweet and caring, it makes his stomach flip and his toes curl with delight. 

“Only for Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, and he means it.

Those words aren't said flippantly, or just because. Lan Zhan makes a point of solidly looking into his eyes every time he wants to be sincere and it floors Wei Ying every single time.

“Let's play a game, Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying holds his breath, waiting for the answer. The thing is, he knows Lan Zhan will agree and part of him believes it. But there's knowing and then there's knowing it. 

“Mn. What is the game?”

“It's a simple one. We just take turns saying what we like about what we see. For example, I will go first and say, "I love the crispness of autumn, the colour of the leaves turning”.”

“That's two things,” Lan Zhan points out.

“Well, yes and no. I'm referring to the mood of autumn, like, there's this feeling of magic in the air, that something exciting is about to happen. I can't explain it, it's just there.” Wei Ying blows the hair from his face and then Lan Zhan patiently tucks it behind his ear and tugs his beanie down to cover it.

“I love Wei Ying’s eyes. They remind me of a storm.”

“You know, I totally expected you to say something about the scenery and I'm kicking myself that you did not.” 

Lan Zhan laughs. “It is in a way, partly the scenery.”

“Fine! I'll allow it since you're looking at me. What about the storm part, though? Aren't they wild and unpredictable and utterly chaotic?”

“Mn. Exactly. Wei Ying’s eyes are very expressive. Beautiful.” Lan Zhan stops them on the narrow path they're walking on, slipping his whole hand underneath Wei Ying’s jaw to tilt his face up. Then he presses his cool lips to the hot skin, treasuring his eyes. First one and then the other. It's worth it to see those lovely cheeks flush with warmth and know he is responsible for that.

Flustered, Wei Ying continues quickly. The cold, sharp breeze feels lovely on his too-hot face.

“I do love the colours of the leaves though. I remember my Mama telling me that when they turn red, it's the month of my birthday.”

“Mn. That is a good memory.”

“Your turn.”

“I like Wei Ying’s coat. It is red and his favourite colour and reminds me of precious leaves.”

“Silly man. I can already tell you're gonna make this game all about me.” Wei Ying grins and kisses his cool cheek.

The path curves around the mountainside, the cliff-face creating a sheltered area.

“That would make a nice spot for a magnolia tree, wouldn't it?” Wei Ying points to a patch of grass that seems too empty. “Do they need a lot of sunshine?” He can imagine how magnificent it would look, something vivacious and green even in the winter months if an evergreen variety could survive up here. The sturdy trunk reaching up into the sky, a kindred soul ready to grow and become taller, stronger, and more beautiful. “It'd be like an anchor, tying us to each other and this place.”

“We can do some research when we go home,” Lan Zhan replies, and it's a mutual decision to turn around. When they reach the Jingshi, Wei Ying hurries forward eagerly, impatient to get indoors.

“Great,” Wei Ying says, toeing off his shoes and actually taking the time to bend and put them and Lan Zhan’s shoes away properly. He wiggles his butt for good measure and adds, “Now we can go shag and then loll about in bed until dinnertime.”

He hears the choked up noise Lan Zhan makes and then his body is pushed against the wall, lips taken in fiery kiss as if Lan Zhan has just been given the best gift ever. He's possessive and hot and demanding, not willing to give up his prize, and it's only when Wei Ying giggles, panting to catch his breath, that he says, “It's a good thing you catch on quickly!”

“Mn.” 

With that, Lan Zhan straight up picks him up and carries him off to their room. If Wei Ying can still talk, then he's not doing his job as his boyfriend well enough….

**********************

That evening, SiZhui excuses himself and Jin Ling from dinner, saying that the latter wants to explore Caiyi Town and visit the night market.

“I guess that means it's just you and me, Lan Er-Gege,” Wei Ying says, shutting the front door after seeing them off.

“Mn. SiZhui is considerate, telling us before we get started on the meal preparation,” Lan Zhan replies, aware of Wei Ying following him into the kitchen. He has prepared an activity for Wei Ying on the little kitchen table, which is more suited for a quick bite for two people or as extra work space when they need it. The kitchen is a well thought out space meant for more than one person to work there, with the sink in an island along the centre.

“What are we having tonight, Lan–”

As predicted, Wei Ying stops talking the moment he sees the plain art book open alongside a selection of colouring pencils with soluble paint so if Wei Ying were to use the carefully placed paint brushes with the strategic glass of water, he could technically paint if he wanted to…not because Lan Zhan has laid out an enticing way to pass the time, perhaps…

Wei Ying is onto him in a heartbeat, grabbing a fist full of his shirt and yanking Lan Zhan closer so that his breath ghosts along his throat. Admittedly, it's a hot move.

“You did this on purpose!” Wei Ying playfully accuses him.

“I am quite sure I do not have a clue as to what you are implying.” Lan Zhan stares back, barely breathing and feeling extremely hot suddenly. Assertive Wei Ying is a sight to behold.

“I think you don't want me adding wasabi to the dish without your knowledge,” Wei Ying insists. “Again.”

“I merely observed the art supplies were unused and wondered if Wei Ying had forgotten about them. My apologies if that's not the case.” Lan Zhan’s eyes have definitely gone darker.

Wei Ying can see the desire pooling in the golden depths of his wonderful orbs, and decides to forgive him. A little bit…seeing as this is intentionally done…well, two can play that game. Plus, he really had forgotten about wanting to paint, but then he's had a lot on his plate these days. 

So, he thinks about the dirtiest thing Lan Zhan has ever done to him, because Lan Zhan was the one to say his eyes were very expressive, right? He should know exactly what Wei Ying is thinking about. Then, very slowly, he pulls Lan Zhan closer as if he can't resist kissing him, and when Lan Zhan’s beautiful lashes flutter closed and his gorgeous lips part ready for a kiss, Wei Ying swoops in to boop his nose, suddenly pushing him away and then really smacking that fabulous backside hard.

“You're just lucky I'm hungry, Mister!” He says, and then while cackling, he goes to sit himself down in front of the table. Can't let Lan Zhan’s efforts go to waste, can he? But he keeps a surreptitious eye on the walking candy, just to be safe.

Lan Zhan picks his jaw up from the floor and starts plotting. Cooking is easy. He can do it blindfolded. Teasing however, that's something new. It requires thought. And then he hits upon the perfect plan. They'll need to eat quickly if he is to execute it perfectly later on because any exercise is best done without a heavy stomach. Probably half an hour after dinner.

Plan made, Lan Zhan flies into action. It's only when he's about to tell Wei Ying that they're almost ready to eat that he realises he hasn't heard a peep out of his boyfriend. He looks up and sees the picture of perfect concentration, because Wei Ying is so absorbed in the creation aspect of his artwork that his little pink tongue is peeking out of the side of his mouth and a crease appears between his brows. He's also humming to himself, but it must be something new because Lan Zhan hasn't heard it before. It's a certain tune, too. Not one he's experimenting with, or trying out and changing midway. It has a definite chorus and definite verses, since Lan Zhan can pick them out. He waits until Wei Ying finishes the song and then he calls him for dinner.

Once they've finished eating, Lan Zhan makes Wei Ying continue with his painting, saying there isn't much to clean up. There truly isn't since Lan Zhan has been cooking for a long time now and has always been adept at time management and arranging tasks in between waiting for the food to be cooked.

“I'll be down in the basement,” he says, after setting the dish towels to dry. “You should continue.” That's to Wei Ying who was going to get up and follow him out of the kitchen.

“Oh, okay, then,” Wei Ying says, and maybe he suspects something because for a moment, he narrows his eyes at Lan Zhan as if trying to figure it out. 

Lan Zhan pretends he's not up to anything remotely suspicious and continues with momentum, not daring to even glance at him. Wei Ying has the superior skills of always being able to read him like a familiar book, so Lan Zhan doesn't want to chance it.

Down in the basement, everything is as it should be. After Lan Zhan turns on the lights, illuminating the area, he retrieves his yoga mat and places it in the centre of the room close to the mirror. This is an intense workout and he knows that as soon as he puts the music on, Wei Ying will come. They've both teased each other very much today, and so he's looking forward to smashing Wei Ying’s self control. In order to facilitate that, he changes into his proper workout clothes, completely foregoing the t-shirt he donned whilst helping Mo XuanYu, and going bare chested. Also, his white yoga pants are the kind that don't, or rather, can't, hide anything. They're also the kind that don't allow him to wear anything underneath so commando it is. Wei Ying deserves it.

He connects his phone to the Bluetooth speaker system and mentally prepares himself. Deep breath in, hold for twenty seconds, then let it out slowly. He repeats the process a further ten times, and then he's ready.

He presses play on the music app and then the song he first ever composed for Wei Ying begins playing. He puts it on repeat and then starts off easy by doing a series of planks and forward lunges. He hasn't even repeated the second reps of them before there's a clattering noise behind him.

There are only two people in the house and they're both down here. Lan Zhan forces himself not to look at Wei Ying, however, he's aware that the Wei Ying shape has slid down the wall and hasn't taken his eyes off Lan Zhan yet.

Good.

Now it's time for the harder poses, and as Lan Zhan concentrates on his balance, he eases himself into the crow pose, maintaining it for a full two minutes before easing himself out of it. Every body contortion exercise shows his muscles off to their best look, power and agility in every pose. The music is loud and meaningful, the classical notes plucking the strings of his heart, and as Lan Zhan goes through his routine, his sharp ears catch the whimpers of Wei Ying, and it makes him feel like a God. To be able to incite such feelings in his soul mate is an honour and he's well aware of it.

Lan Zhan systematically goes through the camel pose, the firefly pose, the chaturanga, and deep back bends like the wheel. He ends after a cool down, breathing deeply after finishing the savasana. When he's ready, he stands up and golden eyes meet hungry silver ones.

That's when he turns to Wei Ying and offers his hand out. 

“Will you dance with me?”

Wei Ying stands up on shaky legs and he has to take a moment. In his mind, every single part of tonight has been contrived to bring him here. He's supposed to feel this way because if he's honest, he has been a little shit to Lan Zhan, who has, to be fair, dished out as well as he got. That's why their dynamic is fun, and flirty and incredibly hot.

So is Sweaty Lan Zhan. 

Lan Zhan, who has been fully aware of his presence, knew he would come down here from the second he heard the first note of their song. Lan Zhan named it after them, so of course he would.

He's had to watch an hour of the most beautiful man alive bar none (™) bend and flex all those delicious muscles, the fluid lines of his body absolutely gorgeous and stunning maintain positions that have got Wei Ying’s creative brain thinking about other possibilities, because you know, multitasker at heart, And now he gets to touch Lan Zhan. 

It's a classic slow waltz. Their left hands are clasped and away from their bodies, and Lan Zhan’s big palm is pressed on Wei Ying’s back as he brings their bodies together. They glide effortlessly around the shining floor, avoiding the columns and absorbing the music, all the while neither looks away. 

Each one is mesmerised by the magic of the other, captivated and entranced. There is nothing more important than them. Here together, nothing else exists except them and their love for each other. It is a much needed reconnecting that ends up healing the dark places inside their hearts.

They dance and dance until they tire, and even then, they still sway together slower now. Wei Ying is leaning the side of his face on Lan Zhan’s chest and Lan Zhan is letting his cheek rest on the top of his head.

“My plan backfired,” he says, but in full support of what they're doing. 

“I knew it,” Wei Ying murmurs, also very happily.

“Let's shower and go upstairs.”

“Okay.”

That's what they do and they end up falling asleep in bed.

*******************

When Lan Zhan wakes up, it's his consciousness that keeps his eyes shut as he listens. His senses reach out, exploring the situation. He's no longer lying under Wei Ying - the man in question is sitting up next to him, humming that same tune Lan Zhan heard before, yesterday. His hand taps a steady beat on his ribcage, listening to Wei Ying trying out different lines to the same melody. The pen he's using taps out a rhythm on the notepad like a metronome keeping the accompanying beat. Then he begins to sing:

“Every day, I wake up 

And see you,

You are my heart,

And my soul, too,

Every day I wake up,

I know that it's true,

You are my heart,

And my soul, too,

Apart for too long,

And I know,

Many days I didn't belong,

I was lost,

I was scared,

And I know,

That pieces of me,

Were just gone,

But then one day,

I found you again,

And so, I know

That it's true,

I need you, 

And you need me too,

Every day, I wake up

And I know,

You are my heart 

And my soul, too,

Every day we wake up, 

And we know,

Our hearts and our souls,

Yes, they are true.”

Wei Ying carries on singing, trying out different combinations, arranging the words in various ways to find the best for his song.

But Lan Zhan already knows: the song is perfect. Wei Ying will share it when he's ready and Lan Zhan will wait for him.

Wei Ying’s beautifully warm voice settles into his heart, a song for them and all  their struggles, everything they've gone through. They've made it out on the other side of their challenges, stronger and happier because of them. This is how the rest of their lives will be.

**************

A/N

So...really nervous about that song, and maybe I've written partial songs before, but they've never seen the light of day. So please be kind and honest, and I will toughen myself up so any criticism won't hurt😆

All my love,

Charlie

🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫

Chapter Text

Wei Ying is running out of the Jingshi in a heartbeat, as soon as he gets the text from the group chat that the band is here. He barrels into Wen Qing and hugs her tightly, and then they're jumping up and down together, both crying. Wen Ning, with his crazy gentle strength, picks them both up and joins in, and by the time Uncle Four catches up to them, it's a mish-mash of bodies clustered together. SiZhui and Lan Zhan are forcibly pulled in, and there's not a dry eye left among them.

“God, it's so fucking cold up here!” Wen Qing moans as they half run towards the Jingshi and its warmth.

The hallway is a flurry of activity as outdoor shoes are swapped for indoor slippers and everyone converges inside the lounge where the fire is a hearty welcome sight. 

Lan Zhan pours out hot chocolate for everyone and A-Yuan passes around a plate of cookies.

“We can have lunch together, later,” he tells everyone, before sitting down next to Wei Ying. 

“Right, tell me everything,” Wen Qing demands after she stops trembling enough to relax properly. 

So Wei Ying launches into the surprise visit by XiChen, he and Lan Zhan telling him everything, the violence in the Hanshi and if Wei Ying goes overboard with praise for Lan Zhan’s superior arm strength, that's genuine admiration right there. Details are shared about the contents of the safe and Mianmian swooping in to save the day, and Wen Qing's lips curl with distaste at that. So of course, Wei Ying talks Luo QingYang up even more, especially when he tells them that he's about to divulge confidential information. 

“Wei Ying.” It's a warning from Lan Zhan. 

“What?” Wei Ying nudges him teasingly. “Huaisang said it wasn't to leave this room, so it won't. I trust every single person in this room with my life, and if Huaisang didn't want me to share with them, then he shouldn't have told us anything.” 

“Semantics,” Lan Zhan replies, but technically since Wei Ying is correct, he doesn't push the issue.

Wei Ying tells them about Nie MingJue, about XiChen's involvement and how Jin GuangYao betrayed them both. Halfway through that, Lan Zhan catches SiZhui's gaze and they both rise to go and prepare lunch for everyone. Before Lan Zhan goes, he makes a point of kissing the top of Wei Ying’s head.

“If you feel tired, it is alright to say. They will understand,” he says, loudly enough for the rest of them to get the message. 

“I'm not tired at all,” Wei Ying replies, and he's surprised to feel the truth of it.

“How are the headaches now?” Wen Qing asks him, once Lan Zhan is out of earshot.

“I used to get them maybe twice a week, but Lan Zhan did a lot of research into things that can help, and we practice yoga most days, plus the breathing exercises really help. Like, I can't believe how much! I'm serious about that part, I really didn't believe him when he said it would work. Nowadays, it's been, what, nearly a month since I came here? I've had maybe one or two. So it's good.” Wei Ying smiles back at her with genuine confidence about his health.

They carry on talking, and once they finish asking questions and listening to Wei Ying’s answers, Uncle Four stands up with Wen Ning.

“Our luggage is still in the car but we all wanted to see you first before we checked into the guesthouse.” He says that with a wink. “Picked up some Emperor's Smile on the way up here, if you wanna visit.”

“Alright, we'll see. The Doc says I shouldn't mix the painkillers with drinks but one glass should be fine.” Wei Ying smiles, watching them leave. Then he goes and curls up next to Wen Qing. 

“Qing-Jieeeee, I need your help!”

“What do you want?” Her fingers card through his hair anyway, and she smiles down at him.

Since she's being friendly today, Wei Ying is so going to take advantage of her good mood. He scoots over so he can rest his head in her lap. She scowls but doesn't stop, so it's safe for now.

“Has anyone ever told you you're like a feral cat?”

“Don't push it, Racoon-Boy. What do you want?” That last part is said through her teeth, and Wei Ying knows he has to hurry or her patience will run out.

“So you know the part where I said that we found my ring, the one I bought for Lan Zhan, because he's the best person ever and I really want to marry him, well, it turns out he got one for me, too. The day after we kissed on stage. But it's turned into some weird kind of bat and ball game where he's dumped the pressure of proposing in my lap, and he says I've gotta make it good.” Wei Ying whines, hiding his face in her knees.

“Why? I would have thought he'd be the one to do it.” She grins. “You must've done something to make him want to teach you a lesson.”

Wei Ying mumbles something she can't decipher and she smacks his head lightly, careful about his previous injury.

“If you want my help, get rid of the dramatics.” She forces him to sit up, and then because his hair is a bird's nest, turns him away from her so she can fix it. “Start talking. What's the problem, anyway? Lan WangJi is a sure bet. He wants to marry you, fool that he is.” She laughs when he makes a wounded noise. “Okay, I'm sorry. Talk to me.”

“I dunno how to make it special. Give me ideas.” Wei Ying waits, and both of them are soothed by the actions of her hands while she thinks.

They've done this so many times before, and it just became a kind of routine with them. Wen Ning, Wen Qing and Wei Ying. Wei Ying was unofficially adopted into another brother and sister duo, but this one was far, far of a healthier dynamic. No debts, no silly misunderstandings, and certainly, no pressure. What they saw was what they got and everyone understood that. It forged a stronger bond than any of them could have predicted. 

“You know it's the Mid-Autumn festival on Sunday, right? And it's supposed to be a clear night. You could take him up the mountain to see the moon. When he turns around, get down on your knees and pop the question. Bam! Job done!” Wen Qing says.

“Hey, that's a great idea! Oh, oh! What if we make a party of it on that day, and then we can do the whole lantern thing! It'll be so cool! Imagine a sky full of lights and then I'll say, “Lan Zhan, will you marry me?” And he'll say yes, and then we'll kiss - do you know, Lan Zhan gives the best hugs?” He sighs dreamily and picks up his phone. “Hey, I can invite Huaisang and Mianmian, too!”

Wen Qing finishes off his braid and ties it off with a scrunchie from her own wrist, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “A-Yuan says Jin Ling went back to his parents.”

“Ahuh.”

“Did you make a decision about seeing Jiang YanLi?”

“No.” Wei Ying rubs a finger over a bit of overgrown skin on his cuticle, thinking about how he feels. “I'm not sure how to deal with her. Where she stands about what Jiang Cheng did. And to be honest, I don't think I want to find out. I'm okay about not resuming anything with the Jiangs.”

“Good boy. My Didi's finally growing up.” Wen Qing hugs him from behind. 

Wei Ying returns to his phone, thinking about who else he's going to invite. There are certain other people he's sure are gonna have a great time with the right kind of encouragement. All they need is a bit of healthy meddling and voila!

*******************

Sunday morning involves a great deal of bribery in the form of kisses, and still Wei Ying pouts because it really is too early in the day to be awake. He's a puddle of blanket and body at the breakfast table, trying to stay covered whilst hugging his knees so his feet won't get cold. 

Lan Zhan keeps the house toasty warm but nowhere is as comfortable as their bed and the Lan Zhan shaped pillow he's gotten used to sleeping with. SiZhui joins him at the table, yawning and smiling as Lan Zhan passes by him to take out the trash.

“If I could, I would splash my face with this coffee and put my feet inside the mug,” Wei Ying complains, his voice muffled by the blanket over the lower half of his face.

“Ba, you know that's gross,” his son says, in a much better mood than himself. “Besides, I heard you making A-Die promise to wake you up by this time, and he still gave you an extra half hour.” He grins when Wei Ying’s pout deepens and he burrows further into the seat. “I tell you what, why don't we have a race, like we used to? See which one of us gets done with showering first. Loser has to wash up.”

The scramble to leave the kitchen is epic, and Wei Ying complains good-naturedly that his son is too clever by half, knowing that Wei Ying would get tangled in the blanket and therefore, lose the competition. No one is ready for Lan Zhan to swoop in and save him, picking him up and running to their bathroom, leaving SiZhui in the dust.

In the end, it's a tie.

********************

Lan Zhan is a moon cake machine, it turns out. His cakes are impeccable, each one perfect and round and just visually a treat to look at as well as to eat. Wei Ying tries his best and ends up teaming up with A-Yuan after a lot of begging, and his son's helpless giggles. They end up getting the flour everywhere except where it's supposed to be and they're having so much fun, no one notices Wen Qing taking pictures of them.

When Lan Zhan goes to check on everyone in the lounge, she sidles up to Wei Ying and nudges his shoulder with her own.

“Are you going to put the rings inside the cakes?”

Wei Ying actually thinks about it before shaking his head. “Qing-Jie, I don't wanna break his teeth! Plus, what if they got mixed up with the ones without a ring? Nah, Lan Zhan won't like a messy ring.” He goes back to his task of pressing the little round balls of dough with the fillings into the molds. 

“You're good for him, you know,” she suddenly says in a low voice.

“Lan Zhan?”

“Yeah. And A-Yuan.” 

They both look across the hallway through both of the open doors that lead through to a clear view of the lounge. Lan Zhan is politely standing next to Uncle Four and chatting about something, offering up a comment now and again. A-Yuan is busy writing in a notebook, his tongue sticking out from the corner of his mouth. He looks happy and content. And then, they see Uncle Qiren shuffling closer to Wen Ning. 

Wen Qing is moving before she's even aware of it, stopped only by a firm flour covered hand on her sleeve.

“Wait.” Wei Ying whispers, and it's a credit to him how much she trusts him even when it's to do with her baby brother. 

So she does as he said.

Uncle Qiren asks him something and Wen Ning immediately brightens, his whole face lighting up with enthusiasm. He's using his hands as if there's an invisible drum kit in front of him, and he demonstrates playing on it. The conversation seems peaceful. 

“I read a story once,” Wei Ying says almost casually. “There was this man who discovered a butterfly cocoon in his garden. Every day he watched it carefully, hoping to catch the butterfly emerging. He became excited about it, imagining what its beautiful coloured wings might look like flitting about his flowers and he just couldn't wait until he would see it. One day, he saw that the cocoon had changed colour, and he waited but it seemed that the butterfly was having trouble cutting itself out of the trap of its own making. So he decided to help it by cutting the silk away with a pair of scissors. But unfortunately for him and the butterfly, because it had not endured the struggle of fighting its way free, its wings and legs were not strong enough to support it, and it died.” Wei Ying smiles kindly at her. “Qing-Jie, you've spent your life looking after us. It's okay to take a step back now and then.”

Her beautiful dark eyes fill with water, and she huffs at him, wiping her face with the flour-marked sleeve. “When did you get so wise?”

“Actually, I found it in a book I borrowed from Uncle Qiren. We've been spending a lot of time with him and XiChen-Ge, trying to convince him that being alone isn't the way.” 

“How's he doing? I can't even imagine what he's going through.”

“Yeah. He's such a kind person at heart. It's hard. We asked him to join us today, and he said he'll think about it. Maybe he'll come later.” This time, Wei Ying’s smile is sad thinking about him.

There's a knock on the front door and Lan Zhan calls out to them in the kitchen, on his way to open it. “Huaisang and Ms. Luo QingYang are here.”

Wei Ying catches the shiver, the tremulous quality in Wen Qing's expression as she first glances at the door before realising she's being watched, so she marches resolutely towards the window that looks out onto Lan Zhan’s garden. Her shoulders are curled inwards, neck stiff with tension.

“Mianmian is a good one,” Wei Ying says quietly, knowing he is being listened to. “You won't find anyone with a better right hook, maybe except Lan Zhan. And she's just as loyal.”

“I don't know why you're telling me,” she replies softly. 

“Don't you?” 

Huaisang enters the kitchen with his fan, still using it even though his nose and cheeks are red from the cold. Luo QingYang peeks into the kitchen and she's just about to enter when the smile drops from her face as soon as she spots Wen Qing by the window. 

“I'll be over there,” she says, changing her plan immediately and doing just that before anyone can protest.

Huaisang looks after her and then he turns to Wen Qing thoughtfully, pausing, his wrist operating his fan just a tad slower.

“When you're in love yourself, you want that for everyone,” Wei Ying mutters unsubtly, on purpose.

“I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about,” Huaisang says nonchalantly, going to snoop inside the fridge.

“Oh, just the usual bunch of clowns around me,” Wei Ying says meanly, because he knows Huaisang knows, and he knows that Huaisang knows he knows but he's just being difficult for the sake of it. Plus, Wen Qing also knows but is refusing to do anything about it, and it's the same for Mianmian. “I don't know why I bother,” he snarks, but then he catches Lan Zhan’s eyes from all the way over there and in a heartbeat, Lan Zhan makes an excuse and is coming towards him and there's all that fluttering happening in his stomach and Wei Ying thinks he's never been happier.

Lan Zhan comes to stand right by him.

“Mn?”

An arm goes around Wei Ying’s waist and a gentle kiss is placed on his temple. “Alright?”

“I am now,” and Wei Ying leans in for a warm kiss.

“Ugh, you make me sick,” Wen Qing complains. She tries to leave but remembers too late that nowhere is safe except for where she is right now.

Wei Ying, without looking, flings a raw moon cake covered in flour behind him, at her dress.

The screech can be heard for miles…

********************

All the traditional foods are present when they sit down to eat. Again, downstairs in the basement is the best place for the guests. Lan Zhan and Wei Ying have joined two foldable tables together, covering them in a gold brocade tablecloth with matching red patterned silk table mats. The table decorations are red candles carved and painted by both of them, scenes from classic literature brought to life. Wei Ying even found time to wind different coloured silk flowers around the base of them, adding an artistic elegance to the decor. 

Osmanthus wine is poured alongside cups of silver needle tea, and there's a good selection of vegetarian dishes for the Lans.

Steamed buns, roasted duck, taro soup, noodles, and fresh fruit, including the last of the watermelons of this season and chopped pomelo for dessert.

They're eating early because Wei Ying has promised everyone a surprise and he wants to climb the mountain while there's still light to see. He hopes no one falls off it on the way back, though he and Lan Zhan will go further up than the rest of them. He had weighed the pros and cons of doing a public proposal, but in his heart, he knows Lan Zhan is a private person. While they both love their family, he wants them to do this alone, just the two of them.

Mianmian is sitting on the opposite side of Wen Qing like polar opposites, and they're deathly avoiding any interactions. Luckily, there are enough people between them to provide ample buffers so any awkwardness is pushed aside easily. 

Wei Ying keeps an eye on them and the rest of their guests even as he picks out Lan Zhan’s favourite bean sprouts from the steamed vegetables to put on his bowl of rice. He grins when Lan Zhan pushes the chilli oil closer to him, and sneaks packets of hot sauce onto his lap, all the while his stoic face giving nothing away. Wei Ying looks around the table and finds SiZhui staring back at him, eyes wet.

“You okay, kid?” he mouths to his son, not wishing to draw any extra attention to him. In many ways, A-Yuan is just like Lan Zhan sometimes. 

“Too happy,” SiZhui mouths back to him.

“No such thing,” Wei Ying replies with confidence. He raises his glass up. “A toast to reunions, to family and to all of us.” 

They all raise their drinks together, unanimously.

It is indeed a happy occasion. 

****************

Wei Ying pats his pockets carefully, surreptitiously, hoping he has everything he needs for tonight. He sent Wen Ning up already with the supplies they would all need, so he's not worried about what they'll find when they get up there, but there's an anxious part of him that wants everything to go well.

Since Wen Ning has gone there earlier today, he knows the way and leads the group with Wen Qing. The trail leading up the mountain isn't very wide so they have to walk in twos. Uncle Qiren teams up with Uncle Four, SiZhui ends up with XiChen who joins them just before they set out, and then it's Lan Zhan and Wei Ying. Behind them, Huaisang and Mianmian bring up the rear. 

Their breaths leave little puffs of steam as the cold air wraps around them, chasing away any residual warmth from the Jingshi, and they all unconsciously walk faster because of it. Again, Lan Zhan takes Wei Ying’s hand and puts them in his own pocket, their strides matching as they hike upwards.

They're all wearing brightly coloured hats and scarves, thick winter jackets in reds and blues and greens, interspersed with the whites favoured by the Lans.

“You should talk to her,” Wei Ying hears from behind him, and then Mianmian says, “No, thank you, and butt out.”

He hears Huaisang laughing as Lan Zhan pulls him along faster. There's a low steady hum of conversation as they chat among each other, and before too long, just as the sun begins to set, they reach the open plateau of a forest clearing on the edge of the mountainside. Tall pine and fir trees, and the wider cedars line the edges of a brown and gold grassy area, the perfect place for Wei Ying’s plans.

When all are present, Wei Ying goes to the huge box Wen Ning had brought up here all by himself, and opens it. As soon as he pulls the first lantern out, there are cheers and gasps of wonder from everyone, because nobody except Wen Ning, Wen Qing and Wei Ying knew what they were coming here to do. 

Since ink and brushes wouldn't be convenient in this sometimes too windy place, Wei Ying sourced huge chisel tipped markers for the occasion. He hands them out to claps on his back for the thoughtful gesture, and then everyone splits up into groups of two. Huaisang manages to snag XiChen, SiZhui grabs Wen Ning, and since the two uncles seem to be getting along like a house on fire, only Wen Qing and Mianmian are left without partners. Both of them stare beseechingly at Wei Ying who catches on too quickly and grabs Lan Zhan’s arm at the same time that he reaches to hold him closer, just a heartbeat behind him in realising what was going on with the two women in front of them.

Wei Ying waits until they reluctantly grab a lantern and a marker and stomp off to write whatever they're going to. He hopes it's not hexes directed towards each other.

But now, it's time for him to concentrate on Lan Zhan. He's been looking forward to tonight ever since Wen Qing suggested it, and his poor little romantic heart is crying with joy inside his chest. He hopes Lan Zhan is ready for Sappy Wei Ying because that's what he's going to get, times infinity, tonight.

Lan Zhan, bless him, is looking perfect with his white baseball cap and matching scarf protecting his beautiful ears, his golden eyes standing out like brilliant sharp diamonds, his expression full of softness and wonder. He hasn't let go of Wei Ying since the standoff with Wen Qing and Mianmian, but now he puts his hands on Wei Ying’s shoulders, bringing them closer.

Against the backdrop of a twilight sky deepening from a pale blue to a rich cobalt, stars begin to emerge one by one. 

“Wei Ying. This…” he seems to be lost for words. His lovely amber eyes shine with too much moisture as he blinks to clear them. Clearing his throat, he tries again. “I want to make a lantern with you.”

Wei Ying reaches up and kisses his cold nose. “Let's get to it, Lan Er-Gege,” he whispers with a wink.

He knows better than to write the main parts himself since his writing isn't the best unless he concentrates, like, really hard. So Wei Ying contentedly watches Lan Zhan’s effortless calligraphy, wishes for longevity, good luck, love, prosperity, all the traditional characters one would expect. When he's done, he offers the marker to Wei Ying. 

“Would you like to add anything?” he asks.

Maybe it's his imagination, but to Wei Ying, his voice sounds even deeper than usual, and he shivers with pleasure. 

“Yes, please.” Eagerly, he takes the pen and writes out the two characters for Meitian, meaning Everyday.

Lan Qiren goes around lighting the little tea lights inside each lantern and everyone waits until all of them are lit. Uncle Four shouts out a warning and then the lanterns are released up into the air.

Wei Ying has just a second to see them rise up and then Lan Zhan is kissing him deeply, while the others are closing their eyes and saying their wishes. It is a precious moment despite its unexpectedness. Wei Ying kisses him back with a matched enthusiasm, and then they pause to lean their foreheads together. 

“I love you.” Lan Zhan says. His eyes are sparkling with gold dust, scorching in their intensity. 

“Lan Zhan, I love you even more,” Wei Ying promises, laughing even as Lan Zhan replies with, “Not possible.”

“Lan Zhan…will you come with me?” Now he's serious as the nerves catch up to him.

“Always.”

As they begin climbing higher, to a place where Wei Ying had been brought by Lan Zhan himself so long ago, before the winds of fate tore them apart. Lan Zhan recognises the way and takes the lead; something Wei Ying is supremely grateful for because he's dealing with a cacophony of thoughts in his head.

The thing is, he knows that Lan Zhan will say yes. But it's the monumental nature of it, of them, of being together and choosing that. Of being allowed to have this. He's getting better at being able to manage his emotions. The panic attacks haven't come back and that's because of Lan Zhan’s diligence in helping Wei Ying with structured breathing techniques that have helped him much, and perhaps that's the reason he can calm himself down, at least enough to do what he needs to.

Up here, it's so much quieter. Only the sound of brittle leaves crunching under their sure feet, and the wind rushing through the bamboo leaves arrives with them to this secret place Lan Zhan shared with Wei Ying, all those years ago. They stand on a wide ridge that dramatically falls away below them. On cloudy days, a carpet of white fog would hide the view, but tonight because the sky is clear, they are treated to a magnificent sight.

Down below, Caiyi Town twinkles like tiny jewels in a crown, predominantly gold with sparkling rubies and emeralds and sapphires as the night time makes the place come alive. It's exhilarating to be so high up and looking down at life, at cars speeding along roads, trains powering along tracks so far away. And when they look up, it's a vision of rare beauty. The moon, a globe of silvery white and larger than normal shines down upon them high above the other peaks. So close it feels like they could reach out and touch it. Stars shimmer up there, twinkling and dancing around her edges. It's like them, Wei Ying realises with wonder. Silver for his eyes above and gold for Lan Zhan below.

Now far into the distance, their beautiful white lanterns are tiny white specks carried towards the heavens by the wind, and he can hope that whichever God is looking down on them tonight, they have kindness in their heart to grant all their wishes.

“Lan Zhan.” Oh. The tears come hot and fast, and he fumbles with clumsy gloved hands trying to get the boxes out. He can't even see what he's doing as he blubbers out, “Please, will you marry me?”

Lan Zhan laughs at him, full of joy in the moment, a second before he's crushing him to his chest, his powerful arms a cage that Wei Ying always wants to be in.

“Yes.” Lan Zhan whispers that right next to his ear where even the scarf cannot muffle his answer.

He whisks his cap off, flinging it to the ground as if he can't be bothered to think about it, and then he wastes no time kissing all of Wei Ying’s tears away.

“I'm happy, Lan Zhan. I don't know what's happening to me! Why am I still crying?” Wei Ying demands. “They won't fucking stop!” 

“It is a special moment,” Lan Zhan tells him gently, holding him close. He opens his jacket and pulls Wei Ying right up close to his chest, waiting for him to be okay.

“Wait,” Wei Ying sniffs in shock, clutching the lapels of his jacket, looking up at Lan Zhan with wet eyes. “You said yes? I heard you say yes!” He grabs Lan Zhan, jumping up and down while Lan Zhan laughs, a deep-throated sound right from the deepest part of him. “We're getting married!” He shouts as loudly as he can, hoping it echoes all the way down the mountain. 

“Mn,” Lan Zhan agrees, watching him fondly. “Yes, we are.”

***********************

After lots of kissing, because Wei Ying said they had to celebrate right away, and as his husband-to-be, he's always right, and Lan Zhan will always agree with that, so it's a little bit longer than anyone expected for them to make their way back down.

Wei Ying is quite proud of himself too, because contrary to his own opinion, Lan Zhan is very happy with his proposal and the lanterns and the romance part of coming up here, albeit fourteen years later to a place that was special for both of them. He insisted Wei Ying hadn't flubbed it at all, adding that it was the best proposal he's ever had. (They both know that neither has had any marriage offers to speak of, but that's by the by.)

“Do you want a big wedding, my love?” Wei Ying inquires, as they walk back down at a much slower pace than their ascent.

He nearly misses the way Lan Zhan’s face falls before he regains his composure and replies, “I want whatever Wei Ying wants.”

Oh, this beautiful, beautiful man. So willing to give up what he wants in lieu of favouring Wei Ying’s choices. Well, that's not happening on Wei Ying’s watch. He digs his heels in and stops right there, frowning at Lan Zhan when he turns to raise a brow at him.

“What is a marriage, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying demands.

His tone alerts Lan Zhan immediately that something is wrong. And from the way Wei Ying is looking at him, it's his fault. He goes back through the conversation they've just had and he can't find his mistake…so what has Wei Ying feeling so off?

“Answer the question, please.”

Uh oh…he's getting upset. That's not good.

“A partnership.” Lan Zhan tells him. 

“Right. So then, just after we both agree to live together as husbands, as partners, how come the first decision we are going to take together means, in your head, that you're giving way to what I want? Or rather, what you think I want? How is that fair?” He does jab Lan Zhan’s beautiful drool-worthy chest a bit to make his point.

Lan Zhan’s expression clears straight away.

“The assumption being taken because Wei Ying would say what he wants. No?”

“Fuck no!” Wei Ying doesn’t care when Lan Zhan flinches at his expletive. “I can't marry you if you're just gonna give in to everything I want. What about you? What do YOU want? Isn't that just as important as my wishes? It's my responsibility as your husband to make sure you're happy, but how can I do that if you won't let me? Communication is key, Pal, it's the stepping stones to a successful marriage.” He stops ranting when he notices Lan Zhan has gone completely still. And paler than normal. “Er…Lan Zhan, are you alright?”

“What if I want Wei Ying to be happy? What if finding Wei Ying again is the best thing to ever happen to me? When I thought I would never get my chance again? I cannot think past how grateful and honoured I am that Wei Ying wants to spend his life with me. And now you don't want to?”

“I never said that at all!” Wei Ying makes a distressed noise and throws himself into a crushing hug that ensures Lan Zhan understands how much he means to him. “Of course I want to marry you. You are my life! How can I live without you, Sweetheart?” He grabs Lan Zhan’s face and kisses him all over it, his cheeks, his lovely eyes, his smooth forehead, everywhere he can reach. “I love you so much, you are my Zhiji. But see, how would you feel if I just went ahead and agreed to everything you wanted just because I mistakenly assumed you did, especially even if I hated it but did it anyway? Wouldn't that upset you?”

“Yes. Greatly.”

“That's my point. So I'm really glad we had this chance to talk, okay? I want us to promise each other something right now.”

“Mn?”

“We have to be truly honest with each other. What just happened, I'm going to overlook it. This is our fresh start. If anything bothers you, you must come to me and we'll talk about it. The same goes for me, I promise you I'll tell you if I don't like something or if we can find a compromise that works for both of us.” Wei Ying looks hopefully back at him. The thought of Lan Zhan putting up with something he hated just felt too awful to him, and he's glad they're sorting it out now.

“Mn.”

Wei Ying softens towards him, smiling because that's such a predictable response. Over the past few weeks, he's discovered that during these years that Wei Ying was missing, the trauma that Lan Zhan went through has manifested in small ways that he's also trying to work through. But they're going to get better, one step at a time.

“Alright, let's try that again. What do you think about a big wedding, my love?” He giggles as this time, Lan Zhan doesn't bother hiding his true feelings. “No.”

“Thank God, because half the time I wouldn't even know who I was talking to,” he grins and they resume their walking. “So a small wedding it is. Mostly, it'll be the people who came to spend the festival with us today. I don't know anyone else that would want to come to my wedding,” he muses. “But you should feel free to add whoever you want to. Remember, less people means less writing out pesky invitations.”

“Mn.” Lan Zhan actually smiles at that. To say he's relieved at the averted crisis would be an understatement. “What about Jiang YanLi? Jin Ling?”

“Ah, uh…haven't decided yet. Is that bad?”

“No. It is alright to be however you are. I do not mind their absence,” he adds.

Wei Ying is just about to answer when they see Wen Ning coming from the path where it splits up leading to the place where they set off the lanterns.

“Going back?” Wei Ying asks him, and right then, they hear raised voices from behind him.

“Er…it's probably a good idea to leave them to it,” Wen Ning motions behind himself, and then whistling a merry tune, he leaves going towards the guest houses.

But the shouting gets louder, and Wei Ying drags an unwilling Lan Zhan towards the conflict when, to Lan Zhan, Wen Ning's opinion on the matter was enough. He would happily have followed their drummer away from whatever chaos this is.

Bushy undergrowth is their camouflage hiding them from the shouting match.

“I'll only intervene if it gets rough,” Wei Ying promises a wary Lan Zhan. 

They're both watching Wen Qing laying into Luo QingYang with words.

Wen Qing: “I still haven't forgiven you for keeping Wei WuXian away from us.

Luo QingYang: “Haven't we gone over this, like, a hundred times already? That     

                        was the best option for him at the time. Unlike you, I've always put   

                        him first.

Wen Qing: “Hey, fuck you! I was his friend first! He calls me Qing-Jie. So don't 

                  come at me with your bullshit.

She actually pushes Luo QingYang but not hard.

Wei Ying stands up to stop them but Lan Zhan yanks him back down again, hushing his protests even though the other two wouldn't notice a hurricane around them right now.

“They're not serious about fighting,” he murmurs. “Watch.”

Luo QingYang: “Hey, I was his big sister for thirteen years! That's practically a 

                         lifetime!”

She also shoves Wen Qing a bit.

Wei Ying looks at both of them, seeing them in a new light. Wen Qing can fight - he can attest to that after seeing her in action during many pub brawls. Luo QingYang is part of an elite task force…both of them could take each other out with minimum effort. So why aren't they?

“Listen here, you—” Wen Qing pulls Mianmian close and that's one helluva kiss right there.

They're really going for it, and suddenly, Wei Ying doesn’t want to be there. Like, at ALL. He scrambles backwards making a face and then he and Lan Zhan start running back as soon as they're out of danger. 

“Oh, shit. That was like–” Wei Ying is lost for words but Lan Zhan says, “Like watching your parents kiss.”

They both make an equally disgusted face.

“Told you,” Wen Ning pops out of nowhere, making Wei Ying scream.

Never a dull night, Lan Zhan thinks fondly, watching his fiance chase his younger brother around the courtyard of the Jingshi. 

Chapter Text

There were good days, and there were bad days, and sometimes there was a mix.

Today, Wei Ying wakes up with a rare headache. They've decreased in severity and frequency lately, so he's not sure why he can't open his eyes because there's a shooting pain behind them, and his whole body aches. He burrows into the pillow further, annoyed that Lan Zhan isn't there and then annoyed at himself for being annoyed. 

Lan Zhan finds him under the covers, and for a moment, he thinks Wei Ying is trying to get out of yoga practice today. But he takes one look at Wei Ying’s face and he just knows. He switches off all the lights and brings him some medicine and water, with a protein bar so his stomach won't hurt.

“Give me a number,” he whispers, aware that even too loud noises hurt when Wei Ying has a bad one.

“Twelve.”

“What can I do?”

“Cuddles.”

“Mn.”

So that day is spent in bed with only the bare necessities making them leave it. 

The next day, Wei Ying wakes up like normal, full of energy and ravenous for breakfast.

“What's on the agenda today?” He asks as they clean the kitchen after their meal. 

“We are going into town,” Lan Zhan smiles. It's good to see Wei Ying like this instead of incapacitated because of his health.

“Oh? What for?” Wei Ying wiggles his way into an embrace, Lan Zhan’s body heat chasing away the cold that he perpetually feels.

“Two things and they're both surprises.”

Wei Ying pouts. “Lan Er-Gege…whhhhyyyyy? Don't you trust me?” He makes his eyes super wide and terribly innocent on purpose. 

“I will give you a clue in exchange for one kiss.” 

Wei Ying loves the way Lan Zhan’s eyes change hues. Sometimes, they're as pale as lemon water, the lightest gold he's ever seen, and sometimes they're as dangerously gold like those of a predator, a cheetah or a majestic lion. But unfailingly, they darken to a burnt liquid gold whenever he gets like this, all dominant and commanding and just, way too hot.

His deep voice, the timbre of it so smooth like warm chocolate, makes Wei Ying tremble. Once again, he marvels at this, how wonderful it is that they get to have such a special relationship. 

Wei Ying taps his nose, calculating. He can't make it too easy, this exchange. Lan Zhan will be expecting that and Wei Ying always loves a challenge. 

“What if I make it really good? Will it be worth more than one measly clue?” He steps aside and jumps to sit on the counter so he has the height advantage over Lan Zhan now.

“The currency value does not change. One kiss is still one kiss, however intensely it is experienced.” Lan Zhan’s eyes gleam with said intensity. 

Wei Ying loves how he plays along as if he's having just as much fun with their silly games. “I hope we never lose this side of being together,” he blurts out, and then it's himself who isn't prepared at all for the softness that comes over his fiancé's face.

“Mn.” Lan Zhan’s big hands rest on his thighs, gently rubbing along the sides. 

Even that is enough to make other parts of him twitch with interest. Wei Ying clears his throat, a sweet rosy blush spreading across his cheeks and over his nose when he realises that both of them have been looking at his lap.

“Okay, then, clue first.” Now he's just being a brat.

“That goes against all rules of trade. Payment should be upfront for all services rendered. What if you renege on our trade off? I will have given away my asset without due recompense, and anyone with half a wit will tell you, that is unacceptable.”

“Oh my god…how can you get even hotter?” Wei Ying murmurs before launching himself at Lan Zhan. 

The first hot press of their lips, slick with anticipation is enough to make him moan, and that parting of his gorgeous pink lips is all the opening Lan Zhan needs to invade his mouth. He could kiss Wei Ying for days. When they're not kissing, he wonders at the travesty of it, biting down on the plushness of Wei Ying’s magnificent bottom lip. Wei Ying’s mouth is clever, just a little bit chapped but incredibly soft, and Lan Zhan’s hot tongue swipes across them before picking into his mouth and twisting around the sensual counterpart inside.

His hands have already moved to land on Wei Ying’s body, one at the nape of his neck to control the way he moves, and the other palm splayed across his back so that their chests are melded together. Wei Ying’s hands have teased his shirt away from his waistband so they can slide underneath to the treasure hidden there. Lan Zhan’s lovely warm skin is so smooth under his fingertips that he just can't get enough of it. If he had his way, he would worship this body with as many kisses as Lan Zhan wants, but for free. He moans again, just at the thought of it, of laying Lan Zhan down on their bed surrounded by white silk sheets in nothing but his birthday suit–

“I've got it!” Wei Ying pulls away to shout with excitement. 

“Mn?” Lan Zhan bites back on his disappointment of their kiss being cut shorter than he'd like.

Wei Ying kicks his legs with glee, then wrapping them around Lan Zhan’s waist to trap him even closer.

“One of the surprises is about my birthday!”

Lan Zhan narrows his eyes at the genius proudly preening in front of him, wondering how he got to this conclusion. Okay, he's right and all, but that's beside the point. 

“Mn. Wei Ying is correct.”

“Then what's the clue for the second surprise?” Wei Ying lets his index finger begin tracing the shape of Lan Zhan’s pecs, the curve of muscle concealed under the heavenly soft blue sweater he's wearing. Lan Zhan must know what his choice of fuzzy snuggly clothes does to Wei Ying, ergo, he's dressed like this on purpose. Nevermind that it's freezing outside, nope, Lan Zhan’s dress code is all about seduction. 

“I have a complaint about the quality of the currency exchange.” Lan Zhan traps Wei Ying’s hand in his, stopping his clever wandering. If he doesn't, then they're not going to get anything done besides satisfying base urges. They can do that too, but later.

“Riiiggghhhttt! So, when I want to complain about the “currency exchange”,” Wei Ying does the speech mark sign with his free hand, using his two main fingers while he tries and fails to get his other hand back, although he's not complaining about that because Lan Zhan is kissing those fingers, one by one, so he's breathless to boot when he continues, almost losing his train of thought because Lan Zhan’s playing dirty - he just bit down on a knuckle, but Wei Ying wasn't born yesterday and rallies magnificently by continuing in a snarky higher pitch mimicry of Lan Zhan’s voice, “One kiss is one kiss, Wei Ying. But when you want to complain, that's just fine!”

Lan Zhan just manages to stop himself from laughing.

“Okay, mister! You said one kiss, right? Well, I gave you that already but since over here in the Customer Satisfaction Department, we aim to please, we will be giving you, Sir, another kiss. But because demand is high and supply is low, we hope you understand that the currency exchange cannot be bartered. In short, you will take what we give you.”

Lan Zhan barely has time to agree, thinking that Wei Ying was right, big words and business jargon = super hot boyfriend, but his brain stutters to a halt when Wei Ying jumps down from the counter and falls to his knees, looking up at him. He licks his lips in anticipation as his clever nimble fingers pause at the button above Lan Zhan’s zipper on his slacks.

“Yes?”

Lan Zhan’s voice comes out hoarse as he finally understands what Wei Ying means.

“Wei Ying said I must take what I'm given.”

Wei Ying grins, all of his white teeth gleaming dangerously. 

“Good boy.” And then he goes to town.

*********************

Base Satisfaction is underrated, Lan Zhan thinks, as he drives them into town. They're going to be late for their appointment, but luckily, the shop proprietor understood and made up their own excuses for why all by themselves…and Lan Zhan let them, because what else was he gonna do? Tell the explicit truth? No, thank you. 

Wei Ying can't stop giggling about it, especially because Lan Zhan had “helped” him too, and he's super relaxed as a result, and Lan Zhan can't stop looking at him either, too happy for words.

Their tardiness has resulted in him switching up both of their stops in Caiyi Town, and now they're driving towards the old part of the commercial area. There's a car park nearby where they will leave the vehicle because the tires aren't accommodating to the ancient cobble stones. Hundred year old trees line narrow streets, the ground raised in some parts because of old roots, with traditional tea houses interspersing shops selling temple supplies and incense sticks. An old Popo sells natural calligraphy brushes in all sizes, practicing her art on parchment paper outside her shop. On the table in front of her, the paper secured down by paperweight inkstones, her gnarled hand guides the brush with the dripping charcoal ink expertly, smoothly, like she's done this a thousand times.

They stop to watch her work, and then while Wei Ying pops inside to have a look, Lan Zhan commissions her to make him a gift. Just two characters, and so she tries to give him back some of the money he puts into her hand, but he refuses.

“Please, do your best.” He says that, just when Wei Ying returns.

Luckily, Wei Ying either doesn't notice or he's distracted by the tanghulu seller whose wares are spreading the fragrance of melted sugar and fruit in the air around them.

“We'll get some on our way back,” Lan Zhan promises him, leading a whining adult away from the tantalising treats. He can only imagine the horror on the face of the shop owner where they're going now, when they show up with sticky faces and worse hands.

They go past a family of two daughters and their parents selling hand made fans, paper crafts and origami animals. Wei Ying buys two bunnies that remind him of Tofu and Bean for Lan Zhan, saying that it's good to support local businesses. There's a metal works seller sitting outside his shop sharpening tools against a grindstone welded onto a wheel that turns with a frightening speed, fiery orange sparks flying into the air so that passers-by give him a wide berth. Another stall has pumpkins and squashes for sale, alongside the last of the summer's apples and fresh grapes. They see a young woman spinning cotton thread on her spindle, an array of handkerchiefs and small items for sale behind her.

And then Lan Zhan stops outside an exquisite fabric shop. Wei Ying isn't allowed the time to fully absorb all of its colourful wonders in the window displays before they're walking inside and the lady owner comes to greet them.

“We have an appointment, and my apologies once again for our late arrival,” Lan Zhan tells her, bowing low. 

Wei Ying, slightly overwhelmed because he has no idea why they're here, copies him, and she bows back smiling.

“No need to worry, sir. You mentioned on the phone that you wanted to see the designs we offer for custom made to measure wedding robes–”

Wei Ying’s choked gasp has the lady stopping to order some water for him while Lan Zhan’s smug smile can't be beaten, and after she makes sure they're alright to continue, she takes them into an office-type area except the tables are in the centre of the room. All around them are white gleaming cabinets fitted into the walls and she gestures towards the white covered seats for them to occupy first. Then she goes to one of the cabinets and withdraws a whole armful of samples.

“Have you decided on a date?” She asks as she begins unrolling the fabric samples.

“No. My assumption was that this part of the occasion will take the longest, hence it is the first port of call.” Lan Zhan knows he's being curt with her.

However, her attempts at dissolving the awkwardness by engaging in small talk is unwanted. He and Wei Ying are taking things slow and they have time to decide what they want. The last thing he wants is to chat to her about what he views as private matters, especially because he and Wei Ying have yet to discuss them.

“Ah, well,” she covers up her surprise with a tiny laugh. “That's alright, we can usually give you a turnaround time of six weeks. It all depends on what you go for. Let's have a look at these silks from the coastal regions. We have a selection of lotus silk fabric as well, from Wuhan, and banana silk from the southern prefectures. If you like anything, please let me know and we can set it aside to consider.”

She goes on to explain about the grams of silk in each of the designs she's obviously preselected to show them, giving them a brief history of the colours used in traditional wedding garments throughout the years, until Lan Zhan stops her.

“Could you please give us a few moments alone?” 

She gets flustered and leaves.

“Are you alright, Sweetheart?” Wei Ying asks him, as soon as she's gone. 

He has been unusually quiet so far, and to Lan Zhan, his silence contrasting with the sales person's ceaseless chatter was giving him stress and he just needs a few moments to themselves. 

“She talks too much,” he says to Wei Ying, who just laughs because as he points out, that's her job. Lan Zhan pouts.

“Okay, okay, let's quickly pick something so that we can leave.” Wei Ying starts rifling through the samples, now that there's no one left to stop him. She hadn't exactly told them not to touch the obviously expensive materials, but he didn't want to find out what would happen if he did and he wasn't supposed to. Now that they're alone, it's infinitely easier to discard most of what she's already shown them.

“All of these are the traditional patterns of a dragon and a phoenix,” Lan Zhan says.

“Okay…and that's annoying you, isn't it?" Wei Ying figures it out after observing him for a few seconds. “Let's tell her to come back in and we can explain. She said they can do custom designs, so it shouldn't be an issue.” Wei Ying stands up to go and fetch the lady when Lan Zhan stops him.

“Are you upset about us coming here?”

“No. Why would you think that?”

“You've been quiet. Too quiet, so I thought–”

“Oh, darling, is that what you've been thinking about all this time?” He plonks himself right on Lan Zhan’s lap and kisses his nose, holding his beautiful face. “Listen to me. I might sound like I don't care about what we're going to wear on our wedding day, but that's so not true. I'm excited now! Really, I was caught off guard. It's a lovely surprise and I'm glad you brought us here today. And also, there's some fabric out there which caught my eyes, and if we wrap this up real quick, can we go have a look at it?”

Lan Zhan kisses him, a chaste lingering on his lips before nodding.

Wei Ying goes to call the lady back inside, and then he takes over, much to Lan Zhan’s complete relief.

“We like this design,” he tells her straight away with a no nonsense tone. “But because there's a phoenix, that's not right for us. Is there any way you could make two wedding robes, with the layers, all matching but with two dragons instead? So when we stand side by side, it should look like a single heart with the snouts of the dragons touching.” Wei Ying taps the side of his nose, considering the issue. “Excuse me, but do you have some paper and a pen, or a pencil? It doesn't matter which, I just think this is too important to get wrong, so maybe a visual representation will avoid any confusion. Thank you.”

She scurries off to find what he wants and Wei Ying beams at Lan Zhan. 

“Better?”

“Mn. Much.”

“So now we gotta choose between Cherry Wine, Scarlet, Crimson, Truly Red, Chili Red, Raspberry Pink Red, and Cinnabar.” He cackles at the look on Lan Zhan’s face. “Okay, let's do this. Close your eyes and pick one. Honestly, they're so similar, I don't get what all the fuss is about.”

In the end, they go for Crimson, and once Wei Ying has drawn out the way he wants the position of the dragons on their backs, they leave the lady to sort out the details by herself. She promises to send them an email for verification and once they approve the design, production will go ahead. They pay half the amount now and the rest when they will come to collect them.

Then they're finally free to browse the shop for Wei Ying’s eye-catcher. He's being pulled towards a ready made robe, all black pure silk satin and the fabric is so soft and smooth, it feels like water running through his fingers. On the lapels of the robe, there are two slim water dragons on opposite sides watching each other, one white with a red belly undertone and the black dragon with the same colouring on its underside and a tinge of red on the edges of its wings and the tips of its horns.

“Water dragons have scales as opposed to the fur that is commonly seen on Earth dragons,” the seamstress tells them as she walks past with a bright smile. “Yin and Yang energy.”

“This piece is gorgeous,” Wei Ying replies, his hand still touching the beautiful work of art. “It's plain and simple and just stunning. Say…” he turns to her. “Is it for sale? And would it be possible to get the same design done in white with a blue dragon and a black one? A matching set. I think this one would be just right on me, but,” he winks at Lan Zhan and stops his heart by saying, “my husband is a little taller and broader in the shoulders than me. Could you measure him now and have them ready for us when we come to collect our wedding robes?” 

She's been nodding all along and drops whatever she was doing to take this job on, pulling the black robe off the rack and spinning Wei Ying around to lay it on his back. Satisfied that he's right and it'll fit well, she starts bossing Lan Zhan around and in no time at all, his measurements are done.

“We are gonna look so cool,” Wei Ying says as they leave the shop.

Lan Zhan agrees, hoping the material is washable because he knows with certainty that they cannot wear such scandalous garments in public or if anyone is visiting, and if Wei Ying is wearing his gorgeous black robe at home, there's no way he's not getting railed seven ways to Sunday in it. That's just facts.

Anyway…

They've spent so much time in the fabric place with its flowing materials and thicker, heavier brocades, embroidered tulles and drapey chiffon that when they come outside, it's already late afternoon. The calligraphy person rushes towards them and hands over a cardboard tube with Lan Zhan’s commissioned art piece inside it.

“What's that?” Wei Ying attempts to paw at it, but Lan Zhan holds it close to his chest.

“It is a wedding present, and it shall be given to my husband on our wedding day.” 

Wei Ying laughs brightly, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Your husband-to-be is a lucky man.”

“No,” Lan Zhan replies quickly. “I am the luckier of us two because he agreed to marry me.”

Wei Ying melts completely into his arms. “What am I going to do with you?” He groans, hiding his hot face in Lan Zhan’s neck.

“Keep me forever,” Lan Zhan continues, without blinking.

“Now who's the shameless one?” Wei Ying shakes his head affectionately.

They link arms and start heading towards the car again.

But it's Lan Zhan who stops outside the tanghulu stall and buys a stick for Wei Ying, who crunches into it straight away. Then with the brightest smile, he holds the hawberry against Lan Zhan’s lips, daring him with his eyes to take a bite. Lan Zhan cannot look away from him, and his actions feel as if a spirit has taken control of him. His right hand comes up to hold Wei Ying’s slender wrist circled inside his first finger and thumb, a grip tight enough that Wei Ying would have to struggle to free himself of it, and then he parts his lips and takes a bite. He chews slowly, not moving an inch away, and the sensual nature of this exchange is not lost on either of them. When he's done, he licks his lips to clean them of any sugar residue. Wei Ying’s lovely silver eyes watch every movement, turning as dark as a sky twisted with thunderous clouds, and his tantalisingly pink lips part open as he watches Lan Zhan back with an undisguised hunger. 

Someone pushes past them on this busy street and Lan Zhan’s hand shoots out to steady Wei Ying so he doesn't fall. The magic of the moment is broken.

There's a pharmacy type shop next to it and Lan Zhan darts inside to buy some wet wipes, knowing Wei Ying won't like visiting the next store with sticky hands. 

Once he's done, they walk past the car to Wei Ying’s surprise, and Lan Zhan brings him to a multi-floor party shop. This time, he lets Wei Ying look to his full, flitting from one window display to another. When he has had enough, they go inside. 

“Wei Ying, Xingan, please pick a theme for your party.” Lan Zhan sounds serious. 

“What, you mean that's why we're here?” Wei Ying gapes at him.

“Mn. The thirty-first of October is in a few days. It will be nice to have a get-together for your birthday.”

“Er, Lan Zhan, the band are still in the Cloud Recesses. We get together every single night. If anything, I think I'd like a break on that night. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's lovely having everyone right there, and I love visiting them in the guest house too…but I think I'm missing those first few days when it was just us two. You know, a quiet night in, watching some nature videos or a cooking show. Maybe I'm getting old, but I don't want a party this year. If that's alright.” Wei Ying looks hopefully up at him. “We could do a party for you, if you want to. January twenty third isn't far off, and we could plan something extra special.”

Lan Zhan is already shaking his head. “A quiet night in, sounds good.”

“Alright. But if you change your mind, let me know. Now come on, let's go check out the prank section. I think Wen Qing and Mianmian could do with a scare. And I need to pay Wen Ning back for that stunt he pulled on proposal night. I got white hairs just from him popping up out of nowhere!”

“Mn.” The petty side of Lan Zhan wakes and now it's him leading Wei Ying to the right part of the shop. “How about some fake poop?”

Wei Ying grins and joins his partner-in-crime. He picks up a basket to put all of their shopping inside, because why stop with just one thing? This afternoon is going to be quite fruitful indeed.

*****************

A few days later, on the day before Wei Ying’s birthday, he gets visitors. First, it's Uncle Four and Wen Ning, and they've got shiny red and black wrapped boxes in their hands as they enter.

“Happy birthday!” They greet Wei Ying with matching grins. 

“Isn't it tomorrow?” Wei Ying wonders if he got the date wrong, and he glances between them and Lan Zhan, who looks unreadable today, which is odd. Usually, he can tell exactly what his husband-to-be is thinking, and then because it's so hard to do today, he questions if it's only been easy because Lan Zhan wants him to know what he's thinking about at those times. Secretive Lan Zhan is definitely another kettle of fish. 

Hmm...interesting. 

“We know, now open ours first. We got here before everyone else, so we got dibs.” Uncle Four says that like it's a known thing.

“Er…everyone is coming over?” Wei Ying asks just as there's another knock on the door, and definitely the sound of jostling.

This time, when Lan Zhan opens the door, it's Mianmian and Wen Qing engaging in a little bit of a pushing and shoving match that's so captivating, but only to them, that they completely ignore the open invitation. What's even more interesting is that they're tugging on a box covered with glittering red wrapping paper and clearly labelled with Wei Ying’s name. They're clutching it so hard that their knuckles are white, and there are clear indentations on the package from their fingertips.

“I'm giving it!”

“Fuck you, I'm gonna give it to him!”

“I shouted dibs first! Are we just going to ignore that?”

“Listen, I love you, but I already promised my boss that Wei WuXian comes first!”

“What the fuck has Huaisang got to do with this??”

“Quite a bit, actually,” says the man in question, sauntering up to the two engrossed women still fighting, now more physically than just verbally. “By the way, she just said she loves you,” Huaisang says that part loudly and nimbly steps past them, snagging the present as he passes, and they don't care because the penny just dropped and both of them realised what a big deal it was.

Lan Zhan shuts the door firmly, leaving them outside. As far as he's concerned, today (and tomorrow) is all about Wei Ying, and he will not have anyone taking away the spotlight from him. He will not. (Also, since those two are now sucking faces out there, he wants absolutely nothing to do with that, thank you very much.)

Huaisang hides a chuckle as he enters the lounge, easily chucking the stolen present at Wei Ying, and it's definitely a gamble on whether he would catch it or unexpectedly kiss it with his face, but lucky for him, Lan Zhan intercepts it in time and gently places it on Wei Ying’s lap instead. He glares at Huaisang, who shrugs and makes himself at home, but then Lan Zhan is distracted by Wei Ying who raises his lips for a quick kiss and of course, Lan Zhan is more than willing to oblige. 

When another knock sounds again from outside, he lets out an imperceptible sigh but just as he's getting up to go open the door (again?!!), SiZhui flies past the open door of the lounge breathlessly, calling out, “Got it!”

There's loud whispering, a clatter of many feet and Wei Ying leans into Lan Zhan’s shoulder, hoping to get a glimpse of who it might be when Wen Qing and Mianmian get stuck in the door of the lounge with their eagerness, until SiZhui gives one of them a slight shove in the name of helping them out, and they tumble inside the room.

“Um…happy birthday!” Luo QingYang bounds up to Wei Ying and pulls him up into a hug while Wen Qing actually stomps her foot because now she's second, but Wei Ying pulls her into the same hug anyway because, like, peace.

“Yeah, happy birthday, Didi! And also, do you mind if we don't stay? We just had a moment out there and now we can't keep our hands to ourselves, so we wanna go back to the guest house from here!” 

“TMI,” Wei Ying firmly assures them, and they're like two giggling schoolgirls at a fan meet, amid scandalised murmurs of agreement from those already sitting down.

“Go, go,” Huaisang waves them out, adding, “We'll fill you both in later.”

Meanwhile, the girls almost run into Uncle Qiren and Lan XiChen, who calmly swap out their shoes and enter the lounge after narrowly avoiding a collision, followed by SiZhui carrying a silver box carefully into the lounge.

“If no one minds, can Baba open this one first? Only because it needs to go back inside the fridge when we're done, so they can have some tomorrow.” He's such a sweet kid. 

Wen Ning and Uncle Four nod reluctantly.

“I'll open your presents next,” Wei Ying promises them.

Then, as SiZhui makes space on the coffee table and pushes it towards Wei Ying, Wei Ying tugs on Lan Zhan’s sleeve to get his attention, though Lan Zhan is already looking at him. Wei Ying realizes at that moment that whenever he's looking for him, Lan Zhan always seems to be doing that these days. It's a nice feeling, being at the centre of his attention.

“Lan Zhan, did you happen to mention to all of them that I didn't want a party this year?” Wei Ying whispers as quietly as he can, given that all of these people are a bunch of nosy parkers, except maybe Uncle Qiren and Lan XiChen. Maybe.

“Mn. But they've got thirteen years worth of suppressed party feelings in them so I had to give them an outlet.” Lan Zhan explains with a little uncertain smile. “They've also missed you, Wei Ying.” And then he adds, “But if you don't like it, we'll kick them out.”

Well, and doesn't that just make him tear up and laugh at the same time?

“Ta da!” SiZhui has set everything up, bringing plates and forks and a big knife with him. “Ba, you can just lift up the cover from the top.” 

“Come ‘ere, my beautiful boy!” Wei Ying doesn’t give him a chance to say no, hugging him tightly to say thank you. He missed his family, too.

“Happy birthday, Ba! I hope all your wishes come true!” SiZhui kisses his cheek, and then Wei Ying is wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

With trembling hands, Wei Ying lifts the silver box cover up carefully, revealing a white butter cream frosted cake with red icing writing saying, “Happy birthday, WWX!”

His name is shortened because of the thirteen red candles decorating the surface of the cake that also has some scattered red shining pearls, as well as his actual age of thirty-one, which makes the total candle count go up to fifteen.

Uncle Qiren stands to light them, and Wei Ying notices that he's using the same pale blue lighter that he did on proposal night, when he helped to light up the lanterns.

“Shufu, do you smoke?” He gasps out, only to see Uncle Qiren straighten with pink ears.

“It's medicinal,” he huffs defensively, glaring at him for bringing it up.

And then everyone hurriedly sings happy birthday, the lights are switched off and Wei Ying makes a wish and blows out the candles, still dazed about the elder's admission. There are lots of cheers and clapping, the lights come on again amid the sound of cameras snapping a record of these joyful memories. 

However, when Uncle Qiren and Lan XiChen sit down, there's the distinct sound of passing air. It happens in the most unfortunate coincidence between sounds so everyone hears it.

Then Wei Ying cuts the first slice and before he can offer a piece to Lan Zhan first, the fork is swiftly stolen by elegant long fingers, and carefully shoved into his mouth. Of course, Wei Ying retaliates by doing the same to Lan Zhan, and while they're aggressively sharing that one slice, SiZhui, exasperated but efficient, is sharing out the rest of the cake among them, leaving four slices alone and taking them back to the kitchen. Two for his energetic aunts and two for his parents, for tomorrow. 

Once everyone is done eating, and they're just sitting around chatting, Huaisang clears his throat. There is immediate silence and everyone looks at him, even SiZhui who has wanted to be near his fathers, so he's sitting on the floor next to their legs.

“Aside from your birthday, which is a happy coincidence, I have some news that concerns the band and both of you,” he glances at Wei Ying who is wrapped mostly around Lan Zhan by now.

“Okay, tell us.” Wei Ying tries to sit up straight but is pulled back into Lan Zhan’s arms immediately, and Huaisang earns a sharp glare.

“So really, it depends on your own plans for the future. Nothing needs to be decided immediately, so you can think about it and let me know. The band enjoyed a high level of success on the last tour and demand is still high, plus they have a huge backlog of songs and ready material alongside their extensive and renowned discography, if you want to go down that route. That's mostly thanks to your songwriting skills anyway,” Huaisang makes a point of looking around the room to make sure the others are aware of it, before he continues. “If that's what happens with the group, it's still good to go with or without you both. But I would like to know by January 2026, for the promotional aspect of these things. 

“The second thing I need to tell you about is that I've been approached by a well-known publishing house. They want exclusive rights to your autobiography and they're promising a pretty penny for it. A hundred K words is all they want in exchange, and of course, the promotional photo shoot, interviews, that kind of thing.”

“What?” Wei Ying’s mind has slid from a comfortable, happy, relaxed place to one of abject bafflement. There is zero activity in his noggin.

“Think about it,” Huaisang offers, his business side coming out. “It's a sensational story, the gradual rise of an up-and-coming band, how things went to shit, exposing the underbelly of a corrupt music industry, your memory loss, and the emotional payback of your reunion. That'd make a great fictional story regardless, but it's actual fact, and it's your life story. It might even be therapeutic.” He suggests.

XiChen shifts on the couch and once again, the sound of passing gas is heard, quite loudly, too. This time, there's no way to hide it. He glances at Uncle Qiren expectantly, but the latter is glaring back at him. 

“Do you think it was the beans last night?” Uncle Qiren whispers, but how quiet can you honestly be in a room of suddenly silent people?

“I think, as the body gets older, it becomes harder to digest pulses and such.” XiChen sounds sympathetic. 

“There might be supplements that can be taken to facilitate a better digestive system.” Uncle Qiren tells him purposefully, glancing at XiChen's belly.

XiChen looks back at Uncle Qiren's stomach, pointedly, lingering.

“ANYWAY,” Huaisang continues, ignoring the two Lans who are obviously bickering and don't know it, “My point is, the offer is there. You can do everything, or none of it, or pick and choose what appeals. It's up to you.”

Wei Ying nods, but his attention is stolen by a particularly loud noise from the two Lans. Again. Wei Ying moves closer to Lan Zhan, just in case there's an accompanying odour.

“XiChen, I think you better excuse yourself. Perhaps if you lie on your stomach, it will go away.” Uncle Qiren firmly suggests.

“Me?” XiChen incredulously points at himself. “I haven't been the one blowing a tornado out of MY back–”

But they're interrupted by Wei Ying collapsing over Lan Zhan’s lap, laughing so hard, tears are falling from his eyes. Even Lan Zhan’s lips are curved up.

“You were right,” he tells a weak, giggling Wei Ying. 

“About?” Uncle Qiren demands, now red-faced and spluttering. 

“The fart cushion we invested in,” Lan Zhan replies with a straight face. “We thought Wen Ning would sit there, but you two are funnier.”

Uncle Qiren stomps off in a huff after flinging a book shaped gift on the table, while XiChen tries not to smile, and follows him out. They're still arguing by the door as they leave.

“Nice try,” Wen Ning says, and something about his tone gives off dangerous vibes.

Lan Zhan ignores him in favour of looking at his beautiful boyfriend. Fiance. It's still an unbelievable turn of events for him, and he gets a punch to the stomach feeling every time he thinks about it. Every time he sees Wei Ying, or hears his beautiful laugh, and then the realisation slams into him that Wei Ying is really here and with him.

“Alright,” Wei Ying says, wiping his eyes with his hands and is offered a white handkerchief quickly, which he accepts with a grateful grin, before facing the rest of them. “I should probably tell you that I've been writing songs, almost daily. They're just coming out of me at this point, like a seahorse giving birth.”

He gets blank looks at this.

“Oh, me and Lan Zhan have been watching nature documentaries,” he explains enthusiastically. “Great stuff, highly recommend. Anyway, getting back to the point, the songs. The thing is, they're deeply personal and I don't know if I want to record them, or even share them with anyone.”

Lan Zhan pulls him closer and they share a look full of understanding, as if they are having a whole conversation privately, just through their eyes.

“Um, so, I have some news, too. It feels like the right time to share.” SiZhui says, and he smiles when he feels Wei Ying’s hand on his head from where he's sitting by his Baba's feet. “Jin Ling, Ouyang Zizhen and Lan JingYi, you know we have our band, The Untamed Boys, right? Well, we were throwing around the idea of holding an open air concert in summer. For charity.”

“That's a fabulous idea!” Wei Ying gushes, bending so he can kiss the top of SiZhui's head and give his shoulder a squeeze. 

“Mn.” Lan Zhan agrees.

“But JingYi says we would need the Burial Mounds to pull in the punters and nobody knows us enough to spend the kind of money we need.” SiZhui carries on.

“For what? Why do you need the money?” Lan Zhan asks him, pulling out his wallet.

“Er, not me exactly, A-Die. It's JingYi. You know he's from the orphanage in Caiyi Town, right? Well, he's doing much better now and he wants to give back to the place that raised him. And we all want to start a music workshop at the community hall there, near the children's home. Maybe when we're not touring or working promotions.”

“I can talk to Jie-Jie about that, look at dates and get back to everyone,” Wen Ning says supportively. 

Wei Ying nods and picks up the gift he gave when they entered. He rips open the paper with a satisfying tearing noise, watching for Lan Zhan’s predictable wince, and giggling when he gets it.

Wen Ning has given him a set of guitar picks, all with feel-good puns that are music related. Uncle Four’s present is a fruit wine with a low alcohol content. Wen Qing and Mianmian have given Wei Ying cured pickled peppers and rare to find chilli sauces. Huaisang's gift is a fan, and SiZhui hands Wei Ying a small box. Inside is a silver key. Wei Ying holds up with a raised brow.

“It's the key to the recording studio, and my apartment. So you can come by. Anytime,” SiZhui says shyly. Wei Ying tugs him into another hug for that, promising he'll use it soon.

Everyone leaves after that, Huaisang saying he needs to get back to work, and the other three deciding to go into town instead of the guest house which might be out of bounds because of the frisky women inside.

“Hey, Lan Zhan, wanna go for a walk?” Wei Ying says, stretching high.

“Mn.”

****************

Outside, the air is cold with the taste of snow to come as they walk around the Cloud Recesses. They're both bundled up tightly with woollen hats and scarves and thick coats, and still Lan Zhan has taken Wei Ying’s hand and put it inside his own pocket.

“Lan Zhan…when would you like to get married?” Wei Ying asks him, watching with fascination as his breath steams in front of them. His face is cold and yet he's warm because of Lan Zhan walking so close to him.

“As soon as possible,” Lan Zhan says straight away.

“Well, that's great because, me, too. Second question, where?”

“There is a monastery further up the mountain.”

“A monastery??” Wei Ying stares up at him in shock.

“They have a temple,” Lan Zhan clarifies, hiding his smile.

“Oh, right.” Wei Ying is relieved at that.

“Our family’s ancestral tablets are also kept there. It is beautiful when the cherry blossoms arrive.”

“Oh…I can just imagine it. Shall we do that, then? Get married in the spring time?”

“Mn. Wei Ying will look beautiful with the pink flowers,” Lan Zhan says as if he's not turning Wei Ying into a puddle of gloopy sappiness. 

“So will my Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying hugs his arm and they walk along slowly, savouring the peace and tranquility that the Cloud Recesses embodies as if saturated with the very air they're breathing.

And then it is shattered with the most unholiest of screams.

Wei Ying looks around, alert and shocked, to find themselves outside of the guest house.

It's Wen Qing and she's still screaming profanities at them, having spotted them outside. She races outside, wearing a satin robe and she's barefooted, her hair's a mess and she looks wild.

“You fucking child, Wei WuXian!” She yells at him. 

Lan Zhan steps in front of his man immediately. 

“There's a lot wrong with that sentence,” Wei Ying points out, peeking out from behind him.

“Lan WangJi, fucking move or I'll make you!”

“I don't know what I've done!” He protests, backtracking.

She steps forward menacingly, and from behind them, the window of the top floor opens and Luo QingYang yells, “Catch!” 

Wen Qing holds her hand out and plucks it in mid air without looking.

“Impressive!” Wei Ying cheers.

“We thought it was real! Do you know what went through our minds when we saw it??” She's absolutely livid.

“If you are referring to the fake excrement, then you are barking up the wrong tree,” Lan Zhan says, motioning behind his back for Wei Ying to run for it.

“Barking?? Are you fucking making puns out of this?” She waves the fake dog poop in front of his face.

“Mn. You accuse Wei Ying. But it was me. I did it.” Lan Zhan delivers that and turns around, walking off.

Wen Qing is so shocked, she simply stares at him leaving, and a giggling Wei Ying who throws finger hearts at her as they both disappear towards the Jingshi. 

Chapter Text

The Magnolia tree arrives in March with instructions on where and how to plant it. Lan Zhan carries it with the plant pot after Wei Ying boasted he could and then could not, with an indulgent smile as if he enjoyed being the stronger of the two.

It turns out that the spot Wei Ying singled out for it is perfect, and the instructions say that late autumn or early spring when the ground is not frozen is the best time. They trek up the mountain path to the wide ridge where the whole of Caiyi Town is visible like a finely woven carpet beneath their feet, full of bright colours and the intricate patterns of roads and buildings forming a natural symmetrical beauty.

Up here in the mountains, the last of the snow disappeared a few weeks back and even the frosty mornings have warmed to light sunshine. The sun rises earlier and for Wei Ying, that's the downside because then, Lan Zhan makes him get up a bit sooner for their daily yoga practice. Just that morning, he had run downstairs to find Lan Zhan, too excited to shower first, and all the way down to the kitchen, he'd been shouting with exhilaration.

“LAN ZHAN, LAN ZHAN! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT?!! LOOK WHAT HAPPENED!!”

Lan Zhan had raced out of the kitchen in a panic to find Wei Ying almost crashing into him, a massive smile lighting up his whole face. 

“Are you hurt?” Lan Zhan had demanded, and Wei Ying had laughed, dancing around in a circle and stepping back from him. 

He'd lifted up his t-shirt to show Lan Zhan what he was talking about, too obsessed with what he had seen in the mirror just a minute ago.

“Look! All that yoga has paid off!! I have abs!! They're babies and, okay, they're not fully developed like yours but then to be fair, you've been doing it for longer–what are you doing?” Wei Ying had been caught up in his word vomit, and not noticed how Lan Zhan’s eyes had gone so dark, primal and fierce as he slid to his knees in reverence. He held up Wei Ying’s t-shirt with his thumbs, his huge hands holding Wei Ying’s torso effortlessly, fingers spread on his back like reverse ribs, and he was closely examining the newly shaped muscles that were now properly defined.

Wei Ying’s mouth had gone dry with the impatient hunger apparent in Lan Zhan’s gaze, and then his lips parted as soon as Lan Zhan had leaned in to kiss each section worshipfully. All the way down.

So…they were late to yoga.

And, well, everything.

Now, watching Lan Zhan dig the softening ground deep enough for their baby tree sapling is both endearing because of the amount of care he's taking to get it right, and also incredibly hot because he's so efficient at it. Halfway through, Lan Zhan discards his white jacket and the baseball cap, and now Wei Ying is drooling because all of his muscles are on display, biceps, triceps and whatever the shoulder muscles are called - Wei Ying doesn’t care much for technical terms as long as he gets to touch, taste and feel…later.

But Lan Zhan proves to be tempting, and Wei Ying knows it would be detrimental to their task of planting the tree if he launched himself at his boyfriend's back just because he is a weak, weak man when it comes to those super strong defined muscles, even across his back. He forces himself to look at the plant instead.

Its gorgeous shiny leaves are as deeply green and similar to the jade plant, otherwise known as a money tree, but these leaves are as long as his hands though half the size in width. They're smooth and hard on one side and there's a lovely strength about them. He turns one over gently, letting his fingers trace the veins running along the centre of it to the stem. This is an evergreen tree, and while it might shed some leaves throughout the year, for the most part it will always look like this, richly verdant and strong.

To distract himself from jumping his boyfriend's bones and therefore, delaying the day's proceedings, Wei Ying starts chatting, knowing that Lan Zhan is really listening to him while he works. They've had conversations in the past and every time Wei Ying challenged his memory on what was said, Lan Zhan has perfectly recalled every word. The last time was a teaching moment, because Lan Zhan insisted on giving him a bite for every word. Lucky for Wei Ying, it was a short conversation he'd asked about.

“Do you know why I thought of this tree, Lan Zhan? A magnolia?”

“Mn?”

“It's because it kind of reminds me of us. It's so strong, can grow anywhere, mostly, and it's a survivor. It stays like this, no growing brown and fading away in the autumn, but always bright and green and fully alive. In the summertime, it will have huge creamy white blooming flowers, and that part's you.” 

“Mn.” Lan Zhan is still listening to him, but he's being quiet about working as if he knows Wei Ying is just letting his thoughts out, like taking a dog out for a walk. But that one's an uncomfortable analogy so he quickly turns his mind to something else. 

Being out here in the hazy sunshine makes him want to open his heart and look inside it, for some reason.

“I have a tune in my head and it won't go away,” he muses now, sitting himself down on a slightly flat topped boulder so he can better watch the show Lan Zhan is unintentionally giving him. “But I'm in two minds as to whether or not I should record it.”

“Why?” 

“Well, recording it is like making a commitment, isn't it? Then I pressure myself into thinking about releasing it so others can listen to it…and I don't know that I'm ready for that. SiZhui says his other band wants to focus on pop songs, C-pop, cos that's becoming real popular after K-pop went massive in the West, and they want to try their luck. It's a more flirty, fun kind of style. Plus he said it's fifty percent talent and fifty percent good looks and they have both in spades. The Burial Mounds was always a little more grungy, older, like soft rock with a solid bass undertone. We focused towards making a point. Like, each song said something, you know. Hard hitting, and maybe because the people needed something uplifting and fun, but slightly angsty at the time helped gain our popularity. Or maybe I'm just scared, plain and simple.” Is that it? Is this how he's feeling about his recent exploration of himself? He tries to explain it better, aware that Lan Zhan wants to know more.

“These songs have a different vibe. They're softer…no, that's not right. The message is strong but I feel like too many other sounds would kill off the thing before it's had a chance to grow, you know? I don't know. I want the main focus to be on the words. And I've been away from the music scene for so long, I'm thinking it's me. Maybe I've lost my confidence. I don't know if the songs are any good. I keep going back and changing the lyrics and then going back and keeping the original ones. It's kind of driving me crazy.” He laughs softly, and it's a sad sound.

“Doubts are normal,” Lan Zhan tells him. “Songs don't have to be good or bad. They can just be. You don't have to define them in that kind of black and white mentality. But why haven't you said anything about this to me?” He stops digging and puts the spade to one side.

They've brought water with them for the tree, and Lan Zhan takes the bottle from Wei Ying’s offered fingers to sip a few mouthfuls. Sweat beads along his forehead, a drip of it trailing down the side of his face. Wei Ying searches his pockets for a clean tissue which he also hands over, while mulling over Lan Zhan’s question. Their fingers brush as Lan Zhan takes the tissue to wipe his sweat away. 

Wei Ying looks out across the view, not really seeing the fluffy white clouds and the opposite peaks in between, dappled in the weak sunshine. 

“I didn't know I was feeling like this until now. You know when you get that unsettled feeling? Like that, but I couldn't put it into words until I tried explaining myself to you. I think that's why I haven't been able to say yes to the book people. It feels like too much of a commitment, typing out a hundred thousand words. I mean the length of it, you know? It's daunting to me. Writing in the journal you gave me is overwhelming enough as it is. I don't know if I'd ever finish if we started writing everything down.” He turns back to face Lan Zhan, knowing that he will be supportive no matter what. 

These last few months have shown him that for sure. Lan Zhan’s unfailing attention to him, his insightful thoughts, his unconditional support, have all given him a boost of strength in voicing his own struggles. It's nice to be able to share his thoughts and also listen to Lan Zhan’s own hopes and fears, the things he struggles with too, and they give each other a strong foundation of understanding and hope for betterment. This is what makes it easier to open their hearts and talk about anything and everything. There's no judgement, no hidden agendas or ulterior motives. They listen because they care and that's enough. Quite often, they find solutions to their individual worries just by talking it out.

They've come a long, long way together to reach this point.

“I could help you,” Lan Zhan offers, giving the bottle back and motioning to Wei Ying that he should also drink some.

“With the book, you mean?”

“Mn. Among other things. If talking to me helps, perhaps we can change up the format of the book. Or parts of it. Make it like an interview, more engaging that way. And I could type it up for you. All you'd have to do is talk.” Lan Zhan goes back to the tree sapling that is now buried deep into the hole. “If the amount of content is putting you off, don't think about it. They're just numbers. I don't think a person can judge what the final word count is in any creative effort, and that's professional authors, I mean. Unless they're following a formulaic story, but even then, every creative process has unexpected branches worth exploring.”

Wei Ying watches Lan Zhan patting the ground firmly into place around the base of the plant so it won't tip over. He loves that caring side of this stoic man, so much like an iceberg on the outside, but deeper under the surface. That Lan Zhan knows he thinks better when he's not being stood over is the reason why he walked away then…and the thing is, Lan Zhan knows him better than anyone else ever could. He's the one person Wei Ying would trust with something so personal as an autobiography. 

He jumps up off the boulder with a renewed vigor, going to join Lan Zhan by the baby plant.

“Alright,” he says. “Let's do it together.” 

Lan Zhan takes his hand and together, they carefully water the tree. He knows Wei Ying is talking about more than just this one thing.

“Mn. Together.”

That's a nice word.

*****************

Huaisang wonders why Wei WuXian has called him over to the Cloud Recesses this morning. Spring has fully blown into the settlement nestled up here with just the other mountains for company, but it has shown its colours in the new leaves shooting up into life amid the already emerald pine trees and firs. It's just the sort of place he could imagine Lan WangJi choosing to live in. A home to all the extremes of Mother Nature and her whims.

He pulls his jacket closer together, still feeling the bite of the wind, a reminder that it could change in a heartbeat, just like everything around him. But even though the lessons he learned were harsh, they've taught him to be vigilant and always to be at the top of his game, even if it's just behind the scenes. That is the safest place, actually. But none of his little birds have been able to tell him why he's here, and if there's anything Huaisang hates, it's being unprepared for surprises. That's why there are none in his life - he's made sure of it.

That's why he's much more relaxed these days, he notices, sauntering up to the door of the Jingshi and knocking loudly just because it will annoy one of the owners. Maybe he's let his guard down…

However, it's an excited Wei WuXian who bounces up to the door and opens it, talking a mile a minute and yanking him inside.

“A-Sang! Great to see you! Come in, come in!” Wei WuXian gives him a bright, happy smile. 

Just for a second, Huaisang is reminded of the first time this young fellow had bounced into his life and offered to tutor him for free in University. Huaisang hadn't really believed that somebody would or could help him without expecting something in return, but Wei WuXian was straightforward and although mischievous, he turned out to be honest. And far too giving. Huaisang had been terrified that his brother would find out about his bad grades and the last exam he'd failed, and no amount of trying to convince his older sibling that the academic life wasn't for everyone always fell on deaf ears. But Wei WuXian had spoken on his behalf to the teacher, promising that although it wouldn't be a grade A because obviously, he couldn't work a miracle, he could guarantee at least a pass. 

Huaisang had fully expected him to offer cheating, so when Wei WuXian had barged into his room armed with study books and snacks, Huaisang had been shocked. Pleasantly so, even though he had to work harder than he'd ever attempted in order to eventually scrape through.

That single chance meeting changed both of their lives forever.

Now, he smiles back at the guileless man. “It's great to see you, too?” Huaisang makes it into a question because he still genuinely doesn't know why he's here, and it's T minus thirty seconds before he starts freaking out.

“Ah, let's get a bit more comfortable before we let the cat out of the bag.” Wei WuXian rolls on his heels, ever impatient as Huaisang changes into the house slippers and follows him inside.

The lounge is just as cosy as he remembers, and Lan WangJi is pouring out a new blend of white tea. The air is pleasantly fragranced with peach blossoms and something chocolatey. Huaisang eyes the tray with the many varieties of pastries with a fond suspicion. 

“What do you want me to do?” He asks, as soon as he settles into his seat.

Wei WuXian, the chattier of the two, launches into an attack after laughing awkwardly. “Why do you say that? Why would we want something? Can't we all just meet up like a regular bunch of friends and share some tea? Snacks? Talk about what we've all been up to?”

“Wei Ying.”

Again, they do that thing where they have a conversation without speaking, and it's such a loaded moment, and Huaisang low-key is a tiny bit jelly about their communication skills, and then Wei Ying pouts, slumping in his seat. His consolation is an arm around his waist and a soft kiss on his head.

Huaisang watches them over the rim of his teacup, feeling oddly relieved. One of the casualties of his long con was the fear that Lan WangJi and Wei WuXian might not be able to be together again, after such a traumatic long separation and of course, because people change. And they did change, but somehow, this is better. 

Lan WangJi has aged like fine wine, only becoming more dependable and solid, and Wei WuXian, well, he has become more like only Wei WuXian can be. They're a good match and he's grateful that they survived that operation of bringing down Jin GuangYao. 

“Okay, ffffiiiinnnneee! I'll tell him,” Wei WuXian whines, and then turns towards Huaisang. “Okay, so you know you said that thing about the book people and the autobiography? When would they want it done?”

“Are you thinking about doing it?” Huaisang sits forward in his eagerness, suddenly glad that they're doing this in person. This is exciting. And he's been getting bored lately with no new criminals to put away, or evil corporations to take down. He's also been missing Mianmian, since she's always mostly here and he might drop in to see here while he's visiting…but on second thoughts, better send a text first, or call, just in case. Word on the grapevine is that they're worse than these two, and it's always surrounding a fight, for some reason. But each to their own, he supposes.

“That depends, are you too busy to help with it?” Wei WuXian looks far too excited though.

“I can make time,” he says. “They keep hounding me for an answer, you know what these executive types are like, darling!” he flicks his pinkie while taking a dramatic swig of his tea. “They were looking at six to nine months and then the promo events and all that. So when are you thinking about doing it? They said a minimum of a hundred K.”

“Oh, well, the thing is, Lan Zhan said he'd help, and so we did it. Here.” Wei WuXian shyly hands him a flash drive. “It's closer to a hundred and fifty K but you can edit it, if you like.” His smile is much wider when he adds, “You were right. It was therapeutic. Also, would you like to come to our wedding? We're thinking, the first week of April, maybe the sixth?”

Huaisang is still picking his jaw up from the floor.

*******************

It's the first week of April and the new buds of the blossom trees have shown their rosy pink faces. On the night before the wedding, Wei Ying is kidnapped by Wen Qing and Mianmian, against both the grooms’ wills.

“It's good luck, idiot!” Wen Qing tells Wei Ying, brandishing the comb, which may or may not be a lethal weapon, depending on the intentions of the wielder.

Wei Ying is currently being thrown over Wen Ning's shoulder in a fireman's carry, while Uncle Four and Uncle Qiren are locking the door to the Jingshi and being glared at viciously by the sole occupant from the window adjacent to it: Lan Zhan, and his son, SiZhui, who is most amused by the turn of events.

Mianmian is risking Wei Ying’s teeth by holding a hand over his mouth as they literally carry him away to the guest house. 

“Shut it, Didi, this is for your own good. We're gonna do the hair ceremony. And can't you spend ONE night away from your boyfriend?? It's just one, sodding, night!” She growls when he bites the soft skin of her palm. 

“Ow! What are you, a dog?” She yells, cradling her hand, and then because he shudders at that, in the distraction, they manage to get him inside without too much of a fuss.

He glares at all three accomplices, pouting while crossing his arms over his chest.

They go the whole hog, too. They wash his hair, blow dry it, give him a face mask while they braid it, and all the while, tell him how lucky he is. Wei Ying sits there in silence, taking it, and plotting all the while. They pluck his eyebrows, trim his nose hairs, define his sideburns and finally, finally leave him alone in one of the rooms, loudly locking the door behind them.

Wei Ying lies down obediently, waiting for sleep that refuses to come. He can't make a move until everyone else is asleep. The guest house goes silent just past midnight and that's when he rises. His biggest problem is, he can't sleep without Lan Zhan these days, and he hasn't even got his phone - the girls stole it without a good reason, and he misses Lan Zhan with every cell in his body. There will be no peace for him until he's back in Lan Zhan’s arms, and the worst thing is, he knows it's exactly the same for his Zhiji. 

So Wei Ying gets up, goes to the dresser where he picks up two Bobby pins and a third for good luck and tucks them into the pocket of his dressing gown. It's the black silk one from the same place they bought their wedding robes from, and the pockets were an extra addition for things that he might need, like lube ... Anyway, onwards and upwards, well, downwards, Wei Ying amends, looking out of the window.

Thankfully, they've forgotten to lock it because it slides open without a sound. Gotta thank the Lans for being so conscientious towards their guests, Wei Ying thinks appreciatively. Then he almost screams because a shadow has climbed up the oak tree outside and is crawling towards him.

Oh.

It's Lan Zhan. 

The adrenaline, coupled with the relief that it's not an axe murderer, makes Wei Ying giggle uncontrollably, and Lan Zhan covers his mouth as soon as he gets closer.

“Great minds, huh?” Wei Ying splutters out when Lan Zhan lets go so he can climb in. Wei Ying shows him the pins he had taken to pick the lock on the door for the Jingshi. 

“I cannot sleep without my blanket,” Lan Zhan mutters, pointedly looking at his body. 

Then he does a doubletake and turns around, after accidentally slamming the window shut.

“Wei WuXian! Do not think about using the window, you dolt!” Wen Qing yells from her room.

“Don't worry,” Wei Ying yells back, uncaring about who he disturbs because they've brought this upon themselves. “I'm still here!” Then in a whisper, he says to Lan Zhan, “How did you get out?”

“I slipped a sleeping tea in SiZhui's cup,” he says without any shame, and pushes Wei Ying towards the bed with a hand over his mouth because his husband-to-be can't stop laughing. But then, Wei Ying has worn THAT robe, and he shouldn't have done that without expecting consequences. 

They've shared a lot of wild times with their special robes. And just for the record, they ARE washable.

“Are you going to have your wicked way with this poor virgin,” Wei Ying goads him, knowing full well what is about to happen. 

Lan Zhan throws him a look full of disbelief. He knows why Wei Ying said that; Lan Zhan gets a possessive kick out of knowing he was Wei Ying’s first, and vice versa, but tonight, they have to be quiet, and Wei Ying is anything but that.

The same thought must have crossed his mind because Wei Ying says, “Er-Gege, you better gag me. Otherwise we're gonna get in deep trouble.”

“Mn.” 

Lan Zhan whips off the sash around Wei Ying’s robe and wraps it around his mouth. There is much delight in those silver rimmed eyes watching him back with a limitless desire. He then carefully removes the silky black robe, kissing each inch of exposed skin with love and adoration, losing himself in the tender waves of love as they wash over him. Tonight, there is something even more special in the way they come together. Moving as one, they rush towards a never ending joy that crashes over them, between them and through them, riding a wave of pleasure so great, so intense that Wei Ying is sure he passed out at some point from sheer bliss.

As he slips into a deeper sleep, he feels the soft kiss of his lover all over his face, a physical reminder of how much he is loved.

Dreams of softness, of pink clouds and ice cream skies, of lovely flowers blooming all around him and so much peaceful joy.

All of that shattered by a single voice, way too soon for his liking.

“WEI WUXIAN! LAN WANGJI! HOW COULD YOU???”

********************

Lan Zhan is packed off to the Jingshi with an escort and some choice words too colourfully much for Wen Ning's sensitive ears, and Wen Qing ensures that Lan Zhan knows how much she's disappointed in him (but he doesn't care because he got to have Wei Ying in his arms for most of the night, and that's a win-win in his book).

She's so pissed at him and Wei Ying that her voice doesn't go down to an acceptable level until way after two cups of black coffee, neat.

“You know,” Wei Ying says conversationally, “there's a reason why you're not the lead singer. Ow!” Okay, he probably should've waited until her hands weren't deep in his hair to say that.

“Didi, it's your own fault. Both of you were explicitly told not to see each other until today, and what did you do?” Even Mianmian isn't sympathetic to his plight.

“Aren't you guys supposed to be nice to me, today?” Wei Ying grumbles, whining. “It's my wedding day, and it's supposed to be a happy time! Ow, Ow! Okay, I'll shut up!”

That's after a particularly hard tug, but then Wen Qing kisses his cheek to make up for it. Mianmian does his makeup and in no time at all, his hair is fastened into an elegant curly bun with strategic strands framing his face. Wen Qing expertly weaves a red silk ribbon through his hair and ties a bow, letting the long crimson  strands dangle down his back. 

Then it's time to start putting on the layers. He goes into the bathroom to put the red silk trousers on, and the first shimmery layer over red underrobes. When he comes out, the girls are terrifyingly ready, holding up the next two layers and ignoring his complaints. Both are lightweight compared to the top and last layer. It's a pure silk brocade, and the dragon on the back is exactly as he requested. It's woven on a handloom as opposed to made by a machine, and the sides are lovingly overlocked and hemmed in. When Wei Ying shrugs it on, and turns around in the mirror to see the reflection on his own back, a gasp leaves his lips by itself because this magnificent piece is glorious. The artwork is so intricate, with delicate gold thread embroidery along the edges and sewn along the lines of every single scale, that the celestial beast looks real. As if smoke will be leaving its snout in a blink.

The wings shimmer along his arms with iridescent threads woven into the fabric itself, and someone has painstakingly embroidered tiny golden seed beads all along the dragon's body and between his impressive brows. His long wispy whiskers flutter at his sides and is the cutest thing about him, even than his curling tail.

Wei Ying can't believe how good he looks. It's not just the clothes, either. He looks different. 

“You really are glowing,” Wen Qing says, and she bursts into tears. “My Didi is getting married today!”

“So is my Didi,” Mianmian says, and then she bursts into tears too, and Wei Ying is left handing out tissues to the snotty blubbering messes by himself until Wen Ning comes to his rescue.

He doesn't roll his eyes, but he does not not roll them, either.

“It's time,” he announces.

That means Lan Zhan and his party are already at the monastery, waiting for them. And suddenly, Wei Ying really wants to get there fast. Like, yesterday. 

But because of the waterworks, the girls take an age getting ready after redoing their makeup, and it's another half an hour before they get going. (Wei Ying had to send Uncle Four on ahead just to let the other side know why he's going to be late.)

The girls are ‘encouraged’ to walk ahead of Wei Ying because they keep forgetting one thing after another and at least this way, they can be persuaded to keep going forward. Wei Ying follows behind them, accompanied by Wen Ning on one side and SiZhui on the other. This wedding is really just close family and friends only, and both of the grooms are happier this way.

The ground is wet from an early morning mild shower, and the leaves they pass by are glistening with water droplets, the meadows alongside the ascending path  lush and green and just beginning to flower. Wild pale pink cherry blossoms flutter in the gentle breezes, coaxed from their perches on tangled branches, and the air is sweet with a subtle perfume from them. With the sunshine warming their joyful faces, it really couldn't get better than this.

Wei Ying imagines what Lan Zhan will look like, waiting for him to arrive. Will he be inside the temple, his family by his side? Or will he be too impatient, like how Wei Ying feels, like hundreds of bees are swarming under his skin, and so will he choose to wait outside?

Wei Ying’s hands are joined in front of him as he walks, mostly to stop them trembling, and his thumb caresses the white ribbon he had tattooed around his wrist, his unconscious mind seeking the connection, the bridge between the two lives he was living. He hadn't understood the significance of it at the time, and covered it up with his watch, because he didn't want anyone to ask him about it, not when he had no real answers for himself. But on those nights when sleep wouldn't come and his head wouldn't let him rest, his thumb would trace the outline of the white ribbon and clouds on the silver metal piece of it, and he would wonder.

He used to spend hours thinking about who he might have been, if not for Mo XuanYu and his own terrible familial connections. Maybe a part of him knew he was taking the easy way out of the problem of not knowing anything beyond the last thirteen years. But always, at the end of any speculation, he would offer up a prayer to the unknown family, perhaps a group of people who might be waiting for him to come home. And he would wish for them to have peace in their hearts.

The white ribbon around his wrist made him feel connected to someone. He had no idea who it was, or how important they might be, but it was a connection nevertheless. He wasn't alone. Like the red string of fate, this was his subconscious mind's way of making him feel better.

“Ying-Ge.” 

Wen Ning's quiet voice brings him out of his thoughts and Wei Ying looks up to see fluttering red robes much like his own, billowing out behind a tall man pacing anxiously in the front courtyard of the temple, at the beginning of the monastery grounds, behind the gold tipped black gates. Wei Ying would recognise those broad, strong shoulders anywhere, even blindfolded. 

Lan Zhan looks like an emperor of ancient times, majestic and regal and foreboding to others. But not to Wei Ying. Never to Wei Ying. 

The crimson silk suits his pale complexion so well, complimented by his dark hair that hangs in a straight, heavy waterfall down his back. There's a gold and jade guan with clouds engraved upon it, holding up the sides of his thick lustrous locks, and Wei Ying knows exactly how luxuriously soft Lan Zhan’s hair really is. He's never felt anything like it. And, he has never seen a man more beautiful in his life. 

Lan Zhan’s forehead is one expanse of unblemished smooth skin, his brows perfectly arched as if painted by a master artisan. They frame gorgeous golden eyes that shimmer like glittering dunes baked under a hot burning sky. Sometimes fierce, sometimes petty, always full of love when they're looking at Wei Ying. The softness in Lan Zhan’s expression has yet to find a rival, because he is unmatched in this feeling he holds towards only Wei Ying. And then there are his chisel-cut cheekbones, so sharp and unyielding, and it's hard to believe that it's the same Lan Zhan in the childhood pictures Uncle Qiren secretly showed Wei Ying one day, because Baby Lan Zhan had biteable soft plump cheeks back then, and Wei Ying teases him about them constantly. Baby Lan Zhan also found relief in biting people too, especially when he was teething and even afterwards if he didn't like them. That's definitely an ongoing trait, even if he's narrowed it down to biting only one person now.

Wei Ying could write songs about his lovely lips, how soft and pink they are, how nice they feel between his teeth, and how shy Lan Zhan gets in the most adorable way whenever Wei Ying mentions them. And his jaw. It's fast becoming Wei Ying’s favourite place to nibble, something to latch onto when Lan Zhan gets too passionate, but then he's never complained about it, either.

Now, as Lan Zhan turns around slowly as if he knows that Wei Ying is there, their eyes meet and time really does stand still. The magnetism of his intensity, how neither can look away, and nor do they wish to, drinking in the sight of each other on this most important of days.

Lan Zhan wastes no second in marching purposefully towards him, only seeing Wei Ying in all his glorious beauty. His heart breaks a little, in the way that it is wont to upon hearing a lovely piece of music or seeing a beautiful sight.

Mianmian and Wen Qing have outdone themselves with Wei Ying’s makeup, giving him a smokey red shadowy tint to his stunning silver eyes, always, always sparkling with mischief. He looks like something out of a magazine, a hot model straight off the runway with his flowing robes and natural, easy elegance. 

They've done something lovely and dainty to his hair, and Lan Zhan makes a mental note to ask his sisters for tips to recreate it, because he's never seen Wei Ying look this beautiful before. The urge to kiss him is strong, and Lan Zhan is just about to when his lips touch the barrier of a soft palm.

“Fuck off, Lan WangJi!” Wen Qing makes a disgusted face and wipes off her hand on a tissue, glaring at him.

“Yeah!” Mianmian chimes in. “We didn't go to all this effort just so you can ruin it before they take the wedding pictures! Now go in, both of you.” She commiserates with Wen Qing about her hand.

Thoroughly chastised, Lan Zhan can't resist saying to both of them, “When did you get here?”

“We were literally leading Wei WuXian here,” Wen Qing screeches, but Lan Zhan no longer cares.

He takes Wei Ying’s hand and links it through his arm, shivering because his shameless husband-to-be feels up his bicep just to be a brat, and then they're walking inside the temple.

A second Altar has been made and set up in front of the huge golden Buddha statue. Two red velvet cushions are set down in front of it, and there are fresh incense sticks waiting to be lit, three on each side. Lan Qiren is standing on one side of it and Lan XiChen on the right side of the altar, waiting for them to arrive.

On the right side of them, a table and chairs have been set ready for the tea ceremony held after their bows.

But as they get closer, Wei Ying gasps, his feet faltering. He doesn't have to say anything because as he blinks back tears, breath shuddering in his chest, Lan Zhan knows why he is like that.

Four cherry wood tablets are upright on the altar, bearing the names of two sets of parents.

The Lan Ancestral chambers always had those belonging to the parents of Lan Huan and Lan Zhan, but Lan Zhan had searched for the ones that should be connected to the Jiang family. However, when his inquiries led to nothing, about a week ago, he had these tablets made for Wei Changze and Cangse Sanren.

“You…you've thought of everything,” Wei Ying whispers, carefully dabbing at his eyes.

“Anything for you.” 

The head priest guides them to the altar and they kneel. As Wei Ying holds up his three incense sticks, he's glad to see that his nerves have dissipated, and his grip is firm. That's why he's so surprised at Lan Zhan’s shaking hands, and he helps by holding his elbow.

“Together,” he whispers, looking straight ahead.

The priest nods his approval and Lan Qiren lights them, again with the light blue lighter, and why is no one talking about this, Wei Ying wonders somewhat hysterically as they begin the first bows.

Once to Heaven.

Second, to their parents, to Lan Qiren and Lan XiChen. 

Third, to each other.

SiZhui comes closer with their golden rings on a white silk cushion. The lights from the candles fall upon the writing engraved on the inside: Everyday. Meitian. 

As Lan Zhan kisses the place where the ring will sit, sliding it on, his own hands are still shaking. Wei Ying does the same and because he knows Lan Zhan wants to kiss him, he does it anyway, even if it's not conventional.

Then they rise and pour tea for their families, roping in Huaisang and Wen Ning, and SiZhui, whose bloodshot eyes give him away. Wei Ying hugs him, and pulls Lan Zhan into it, too, overwhelmed by the love encompassing him, and flowing out of him towards all of these people. 

Their photographer is amazing, and he's been taking pictures constantly throughout the ceremony, capturing the special moments. He guides them outside for more family shots underneath the cherry blossom trees, and he gets them to do all sorts of poses, as well. Wei Ying’s favourite family picture will be the one where even Uncle Qiren is making finger-and-thumb hearts at the camera. But he can't choose at all of the ones he has with Lan Zhan. There's one of their backs facing the camera so that the dragons on their backs are kissing, with their own arms touching their heads to make another heart, and the one straight after where Lan Zhan kisses him deeply.

“For our private album,” he promises, as the red-faced photographer directs them into other poses.

The Lan family have treated all the monks at the monastery to a meal, and the wedding banquet is held at the back of the temple in the open space of the courtyard in front of the actual monastery building. 

Lan Zhan has three surprises waiting for Wei Ying back at the Jingshi, when they return, but for now he hopes Wei Ying isn't too disappointed with the vegetarian food to accommodate the majority of the guests. Wei Ying had suggested it himself, and it's part of their dynamic to compromise, but Lan Zhan wants Wei Ying to enjoy himself too, even if it's later.

It's past midday when they begin making their way back down the mountain. Lan Qiren informs them that all the presents they received are already inside the Jingshi, and then he and Lan XiChen leave along the path that splits off towards the older Lan's house.

Next to leave are the frisky women, Wen Qing and Mianmian, who can't seem to keep their hands off each other, even out in the open right here. They're the reason the other three head towards Caiyi Town to entertain themselves because of the unspoken understanding that the guest house is strictly off limits if Wen Qing and Mianmian are there at the same time.

Hand in hand, Wei Ying feels like skipping joyfully down to the Jingshi, but Lan Zhan’s sedate pace keeps him grounded and it's more of a stroll than a jog to their home.

Lan Zhan unlocks the door and then in a smooth, fluid movement, tucks his hands behind Wei Ying’s back and knees, carrying him into his arms as he crosses the threshold of their marital home as husbands for the first time. It's worth it to see the shy blush colour Wei Ying’s cheeks, his bright eyes full of emotion. 

He's surprised at the red silk swags decorating the hall and the bannister leading up the stairs to their bedroom. There are red silk carnation garlands threaded through and wound around the handrail, and when they reach upstairs, the door is covered by long hanging blooms joined together like a curtain.

“Did you do all this by yourself?” Wei Ying asks Lan Zhan, snuggling closer to his chest.

“No. XiChen helped downstairs, and I was responsible for this.” Together, they push gently past the garlands and the actual door.

“How is he really, these days?”

“Much better.” But Lan Zhan doesn't want to talk about his brother now.

Today is about them.

“Are you hungry, Wei Ying?” Just in case he is.

“What? Did you miss me pigging out on the table next to you?” Wei Ying giggles, wrapping his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck when he's allowed to stand. Lan Zhan isn't even out of breath, and boy, is that hot.

“But the wedding meal was vegetarian. I have prepared food downstairs in the kitchen, which is more to Wei Ying’s taste.” 

Lan Zhan looks so concerned about this that Wei Ying leans in and kisses his nose. 

“Maybe later. But I do believe we're supposed to be sharing wine now…” He taps his nose, thinking. “Uncle Four gave us a barely-there-alcohol content wine…we should share that. How do you think you'll fare with it? Otherwise, fruit juice is just as good.”

“I will drink whatever Wei Ying drinks,” Lan Zhan promises. “But first, I have a gift for you, Husband.”

“A gift?? What a coincidence! I have one for you, too!” Wei Ying beams at him.

Wei Ying has smiled so many times at him, so Lan Zhan can't understand why this is any different, but he does what comes naturally and pulls him closer. It's the warmest of hugs and they just stand there, enjoying their closeness and allowing their reality to sink in. Wei Ying is really here, they're married now and they belong to each other as they should have right from the day they met.

“Alright, Sweetheart?”

“Mn.” When Lan Zhan steps back, he can see from the tenderness on Wei Ying’s face that he doesn't need to explain anything. Wei Ying knows.

Lan Zhan nudges Wei Ying to sit on their bed. He's decorated it with red silk sheets and rose petals, only because lotus flowers are not in season at the moment, and he's looking forward to laying Wei Ying down and worshipping him as he should be, surrounded by the luxurious scarlet silk, his stunning dark hair a pool around his head.

Presents, he makes himself remember. 

He fetches the scroll commissioned on the same day as they placed the order for their wedding robes.

“This is for my husband. A promise to love him.” Lan Zhan sits down next to him, watching Wei Ying’s face. 

“I love you so much, Sweetheart. More than words can ever express. I'm yours as much as you are mine,” Wei Ying says in a thick voice full of feeling.

Carefully, he flicks the lid off the cardboard tube and tips out the contents, catching them in his hand.

“The master calligrapher in Caiyi Town? I remember,” he whispers, and he gently opens the catch to reveal the two characters written in black ink on the red background. He admires the words, the masterful brushstrokes and the simple elegance of the writing. “We should put this somewhere we can see daily,” he says, and then he laughs when Lan Zhan takes the silk material and hangs it up on a hook he fastened to the wall earlier. Alongside the bed, it is the only flash of a deep colour inside this room, aside from themselves. 

“They are working on a glass frame for it. Will be with us soon.” Lan Zhan returns to Wei Ying’s side on the bed.

Wei Ying hands him his art book, the latest one. “You're a hard person to buy a gift for,” he murmurs. “You can buy anything you want to without much difficulty, and your needs are so little. So I thought I would give you a piece of my art work, let you see how I see you. Perhaps you mean more to me than anything I could paint, but I tried my best. Go on, open it.”

“Lan Zhan” is written underneath a figure standing in a field, wearing snow white silk robes, the band around his waist made from a pale blue silk. His hair is very similar to what Lan Zhan is wearing right now, and in his hands is an ivory and pale jade sword. The painting is so realistic that Lan Zhan is half expecting a gust of wind to stir the long silky hair of his counterpart, so majestically depicted on paper.

“You're smiling. Does that mean you like it?” Wei Ying scoots over onto his lap, sitting on Lan Zhan’s thighs and letting his rest on either side of him.

“Mn. Wei Ying is very talented.” Lan Zhan carefully puts the book on their bedside cabinet and turns back to him. “I have been hiding something from you.”

“Ooooh! Is this the part where you tell me that you're a secret kidnapper and we're absconding from the law?” Wei Ying wiggles with excitement, not at all worried about Lan Zhan’s confession. Whatever it is, they will deal with it together. 

He watches as Lan Zhan unwinds the wrist guards on the ends of his sleeves, one after the other. Then he lifts his arm up and shows Wei Ying the tattoo he's had done, a scarlet ribbon tied around his wrist exactly like the white ribbon on Wei Ying’s wrist, almost a mirror image.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying gasps, shocked. “When did you get this done? And why haven't I noticed until now?”

“Last week. And every time you were about to see the bandage, I would distract you. Wei Ying is easy.” 

“Easy? Easy?? How was I supposed to know that you were working your love Juju on me? But anyway, it's beautiful. Did it hurt you?” Wei Ying brings his wrist to his mouth and kisses him there. 

The red ink really stands out on Lan Zhan’s pale skin, and he's outlined it in black to make it even more stunning.

“No. Nothing can hurt me after your absence.”

“I promise, I'll never leave you, my love!” And Wei Ying proceeds to kiss him all over his face.

Of course, that leads to both of them getting excited, and all sadness is forgotten. Lan Zhan flips them over and as he looms over his breathless Wei Ying, he gets his wish to come true. Wei Ying is even more beautiful like this, a gift made for him to unwrap and appreciate. 

Today is their wedding day, and the night to follow, and Lan Zhan is going to make every second count.

“Make as much noise as you want,” he eagerly tells Wei Ying, “because there are only us two in the house.” 

His mouth latches onto Wei Ying’s neck, sucking a beautiful blooming flower at the base of it, and leaning back to check his work. Wei Ying’s eyes are fluttering with pleasure, and he yanks Lan Zhan down to plunder his mouth. After that, there are just excited hands and mouths, giving and taking and being the best gifts for one another forever.

********************

Just one more part to go, I think. An epilogue of scenes stuck in my head. Wow, I can't believe we've reached 20 parts in this story. Tell me what you guys think and I hope you enjoyed it!

All my love,

Charlie

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