Work Text:
---One year before the start of Chapter 1---
The key turns almost soundlessly in the lock as Lan Wangji lets himself into his flat. It is quiet, calm, a sanctuary from the world outside. Everything to his particular preferences, the colours muted and his possessions organised logically. In some ways, his life would be easier if he'd returned to his family home - as had been suggested multiple times - after university. But he prizes his independence these days. Even if it means loneliness. He is good at being alone.
He hangs his long coat from its hook, ensuring the folds lie correctly, and exchanges his shoes for a pair of soft slippers. Stores his bag in the hall cupboard and his keys in the little dish by the door.
The lights turn on automatically as he moves through the flat, soft and soothing. He washes away the day's dust and stress from his face with a cool cloth. Makes himself dinner with the spring vegetables he'd picked up and sits at his small dining table to eat in silence. Once he's washed and dried the dishes and folded his laundry he sits neatly under a weighted blanket and tunes in to a documentary about the evolution of court music in China.
At 8.30 he turns off the television and begins his nighttime routine. He feels relaxed by the comfort of habit, prepared to sleep for eight hours and do it all again tomorrow. Before he changes into his blue rabbit pajamas, he checks his phone and finds a message from his brother.
[WeChat message from Xichen: Are you free for tea next week sometime? No business, just a catch up. My treat 🤗]
[WeChat message from Wangji: Tuesday or Thursday afternoon.]
He could go to Bichen TuBaobao on whichever day Xiongzhang does not pick. Yes, he decides, a good plan. Aside from his own flat, the bunny café is his favourite place.
He sets his phone to Do Not Disturb and lies back in his long, narrow bed, dark hair combed neatly around his shoulders. His sight lands on the two matching degrees framed above his dresser, neither of them the one his family had expected him to take. Xiongzhang isn't angry about it any more, if he ever truly had been. Wangji thinks, or hopes, that he even understands. It had taken a long time to bridge the gap it had caused between them, but they are genuinely close again now. Wangji is thankful for that.
He runs through the likely scripts for their conversation before he surrenders to sleep. Xiongzhang will ask him how work is. He'll politely avoid discussing Gusu Corporation, since he promised no business. He'll ask if Wangji is working on any compositions, though he won't ask to hear them unless Wangji offers. He'll ask if he's happy.
Work is fine, some of his students very promising. Yes, he is finishing up that seasonal sonata: autumn is the last section and has been a little tricky to fit into the rest of the piece. He would like Xiongzhang to play it with him once it's ready. Of course, he is happy.
No. Lying is prohibited. He is… content? Maybe he can get away with that.
...
The trouble had started with their mother's death when he was six years old. Well, in all honesty, it was probably before that. If he thought hard about those early years, he had a vague sense of stress. Most of his memories of that time were of wishing to see Mama, or of Shufu's scoldings when he'd put that yearning into childish action. So, then his mother's death. He'd taken a long time to recover from it once he'd finally understood she was gone, if he'd really recovered at all.
Their father's death a few years later had been less acutely devastating, but it certainly still affected both of them. Their father had been a strange, almost abstract figure in their lives, only actually appearing every couple of years while technically running the family company from 'seclusion'. Wangji remembered striving for his recognition, and somehow never really feeling like he succeeded or failed in getting it.
Xiongzhang leaned on cousins and aunties, as well as friends, as they grew up. He seemed to wear his neurodivergence comfortably where Wangji sometimes felt as if he was in a straitjacket: he'd mastered the art of masking early and well, and besides genuinely enjoyed the company of other people even when it tended to drain him. Wangji did not isolate himself deliberately, but he might as well have. He had no interest in socialising, especially in those years when his grief was keenest. If his awkwardness and flat affect held others at a distance, that was no great loss to him.
At least, it was easy enough to tell himself that.
His uncle was pleased with the way Wangji sank himself into school to cope instead, and it felt good to have the explicit approval of an adult relative. He grew to crave his Shufu's praise, even as he cultivated modesty as was proper of a Lan. He received his forehead ribbon on his tenth birthday with quiet pride and learned to take satisfaction in doing everything to the highest possible standard. Being the bright pearl in his uncle's palm was easy. He was smart, skillful, single-minded in his endeavours, and untempted by the distractions that seemed to plague other teenagers. He lived in a cold bubble of perfection and had no urge to step outside it.
As well as academics, the Lan children were required to devote time to gymnastics, music, and martial arts such as taijijian. As long as it did not interfere with these worthier pursuits, Shufu did not discourage Wangji's special interest in video games. But then Wangji discovered a virtual reality game called Secrets of Cloud Recesses. And with it - perhaps more precisely - Wei Ying.
Wei Ying was… an anomaly. Infuriating. Irreverent. Everything Wangji should have hated. And maybe he did hate him at first. Or maybe he was just afraid: afraid of the freedom he represented, the carefree joy with which he so openly lived, the possibilities he hinted at beyond Wangji's narrow worldview. Afraid, and deeply allured by. He never had any idea how to respond to him, turned around and agitated by everything he did; his sixteen year old body reacted in confusing, unfamiliar ways to Wei Ying's voice alone that left him feeling ashamed and hungry for more. He had not known he was capable of such intense feelings - had never realised a person could fit so many emotions inside himself at once.
The more time he spent with him, the more addicted he grew to his boisterous laughter, his unfiltered way of speaking, and his fearless sense of justice. Wei Ying was like a drug, a wonderful, sweet drug that infused colour into Wangji's white, sterile life.
Until he was gone.
Wangji assumed his family was on holiday, or he had an assignment he was taking seriously for once, or perhaps had misbehaved and had his gaming privileges revoked temporarily. He'd complained about his aunt's temper often enough, and the heavens knew how disruptive he could be. But days turned into weeks, and then into months. Wangji found himself checking the Cloud Recesses lobby multiple times a day, increasingly desperate for some sign of his- friend? Wangji hadn't had a friend before. Wei Ying had called him his zhiji. Wangji had not said anything at the time, and bitterly regretted his silence now. Had he driven Wei Ying away with his coldness, as he drove away everyone else?
Had something terrible happened to him?
Wangji knew he was letting his anxiety get the better of him and was powerless to stop it. His grades slipped for the first time in his life and he felt horrible but it did not curb his obsession. Everything came to a head when he skipped the annual company gala to stay home and compulsively refresh the forum. He didn't even have a specific role to play in the event, but he and his brother were expected to be there, to show that the next Jades of Lan were polishing up well. When Shufu got home he was enraged like Wangji had never seen him. He yelled rather than lectured, spittle flying in a very undignified manner, his face red with outrage. The shame! Did Wangji care so little for the family name?
Wangji didn’t know what made him do it. He'd never spoken back to his uncle, even on the occasions he'd run away to seek out his mother.
"It doesn't matter anyway, Shufu, because I am not going to join Gusu Corporation."
His uncle was silent for a few seconds, face swelling like a frog, Xiongzhang goggling behind him.
"What do you mean, not going to join?!! What would you do instead? Do you have some grand plan??"
"I am going to become a professional gamer," Wangji said, and it sounded a little stupid to him, and very brave and daring. It sounded like something Wei Ying would say.
His uncle had to sit down and take deep breaths, probably reciting the family precepts in his head. It didn't seem to be helping. Wangji waited with his head held high, even though he sort of wanted to kowtow and beg for forgiveness.
Shufu's bloodshot eyes turned grimly to Wangji's computer, and Wangji thought for a moment that he was going to throw the machine out the window.
"Who has put such a frivolous idea in your head?" Shufu demanded, and there was a trace of clemency, an assumption that Wangji had simply been led astray by some evil Online People, that he could be guided back to virtue.
"He didn't-"
"He?" It was rare - almost unheard of - for Lan Qiren to interrupt anyone. Almost as rare as Wangji answering back.
"My-" Friend? Zhiji? (Boyfriend? maybe? one day? in Wangji's dreams?) He took too long to decide.
"This person has corrupted you!!"
"He has not. We..."
Shufu's eyes bulged dangerously and Wangji felt a surge of defiant courage.
"Shufu, I am gay," he declared. "I like boys. I like him."
The slap across his face was more shocking than painful. It had been many years since Shufu had raised a hand to either of them. Wangji kept his hands by his sides, stiff with shame and anger. Xiongzhang had gone pale in the doorway.
Shufu did not throw his computer out of the window, but he stood over him like thunder made flesh as Wangji miserably deleted his Cloud Recesses account, uninstalled the game, and handed over his VR headset. Shufu set parental locks on Wangji's phone and computer to strictly control his internet use. By the time it was done, Wangji's bravado had fled like water down a drain, his righteous confidence replaced by a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Xiongzhang tried to console him once their uncle had stalked out with the headset (to throw it away or lock it up, Wangji didn't know), but Wangji pushed straight past him to go to bed early. He'd never been so rude in his life. Shufu at least did not punish him further for this.
As he lay there with the light all wrong for sleeping, his cheek throbbing and his throat aching from the tears that didn't know how to fall, he tried to think of a loophole and couldn't find one. The Cloud Recesses forum was blocked on their home wifi now, even if Wangji were to directly disobey orders and make a new account. All hope of reuniting with Wei Ying had been taken from him.
He could not bring himself to regret his actions. He was numb with loss, and knew it would have been wiser to keep his thoughts to himself. But the punishment did not make his feelings less true. No amount of harsh words could shake his certainty. He dug out the silly picture Wei Ying had drawn to annoy him and held it very carefully to his chest. It was all he had of him, now.
I love him, he whispered in his head. I love Wei Ying.
As the sky darkened toward his proper bedtime, he thought maybe Shufu would relent once he'd calmed down. He knew Xiongzhang would intercede on his behalf. Perhaps there was still hope after all.
Shufu did not, of course, relent. The restrictions on Wangji's internet access were not relaxed over the next few years. He was able to do what research he needed for school and not much more, and without anything else to do he dedicated himself to his studies once more. Shufu offered stiff praise when his grades soared again, but it no longer warmed Wangji like it used to. He felt like a thing, valued only if he was performing well, not by his inherent existence as a person.
As Wangji reached the end of high school and readied himself for university Xiongzhang talked constantly about the family company and how much nicer it would be once Wangji was working there too. Wangji nodded obediently, having learned his lesson about sharing his feelings at great cost. Nobody double-checked what major he was signing up for. It was so accepted that he would study business like every other Lan heir - what he had been working toward his whole life - that nobody imagined for a moment he would deviate, even after his youthful missteps. By the time they realised, it was too late to change.
Xiongzhang talked himself around to enthusiasm for Wangji's choices. He decided that it would be a good thing, actually, for them to diversify their skillsets to better manage the company together. Wangji very carefully did not examine his own motives.
Shufu didn't forbid him from moving out for his first year of college, but he strongly discouraged it. Wangji moved out. It was like he could finally breathe after years with his head in a bag. He found a tiny, shitty room near campus, barely more than a cupboard, so he wouldn't have to live with strangers. He could have afforded something nicer with slightly more allowance, but he felt bad for his trick with the majors and did not like to ask for more.
He didn't strictly have time for video games while working through both a computer science and a music degree, but Lan Wangji was, after all, a prodigy. Besides, he reasoned, it could be seen as relevant to his studies. He bought a full-dive VR headset with the money Xiongzhang gave him to 'spruce up that room of yours a little'; surely it was within the parameters of the gift, if one squinted.
He tried out a number of different games after looking into and quickly abandoning the deserted Cloud Recesses server. None of them seemed to be quite what he was looking for. None of them had a player called 'Wei Ying'. Wangji was forced to consider that his joy for video games was simply not what it once was. He would have liked to think it was not all because of Wei Ying. He hoped he was not that shallow. But that missing piece was always there in the back of his mind.
He played, regardless, anything and everything he could get his hands on. Games were a solid distraction when the world was too much, even if they were not entirely fulfilling. He was still very good even after a couple of years out - he picked up new games swiftly and topped the leaderboards even when he wasn't putting in special effort. He never made friends, but other players always seemed to figure out they could come to him if they needed help anyway.
Every time he started afresh he searched for a certain username, but eventually he had to admit to himself that he had lost hope of finding him. And even if he did, Wei Ying probably would not care. Wei Ying would be an astronaut, or an explorer, or a pro esports player. He would not be bogged down in nostalgia for- whatever Wangji had been to him. He would probably find it weird, even creepy, in fact, that Wangji remembered him.
During university he kept to himself unless forced to work in a group. He had no interest in parties or clubs or flatmates, no matter how many times Xiongzhang casually brought these things up or invited him along. All he needed was his coursework, his music, his hours at the gym, and whatever game he was working his way through. He was not certain at what point he recognised for sure that he really was never going to join Gusu Corporation. Maybe he had known all along, deep down.
During the four years of his double degree, he took up music tutoring on the side. It was only supposed to be a little extra income during his education so he could feel less reliant on the family's money, but as he neared graduation he realised he didn't want to give it up. He realised he loved it. Working with children was hard, and Wangji would have never expected it to be something he liked, but there was nothing as rewarding as when his young students mastered a new skill or played through an exam piece with no mistakes for the first time. Their unguarded smiles spoke to a tender, childlike part of himself that had never quite seen daylight. Even as he maintained a strict and distant manner, they seemed to look up to him unquestioningly.
He almost cracked when his brother realised he wasn't joining the company. Xiongzhang looked like a little boy whose teddy had been run over. Betrayed. Lost. He stammered that they were supposed to inherit the business together. That he had been waiting for him. He needed him by his side. Then he gathered himself and said it was okay, and a wall came up over his eyes. That hurt worse than the raw disappointment.
Shufu was even more let down. Wangji felt like a pariah. But when he lay awake past hai time and tried to imagine his life as CFO of Gusu Corporation, he could only feel intense relief. He knew they thought he was wasting his life. A teacher? With your talents? Your brain? A teacher?? But he felt like he was doing something that mattered, something real, and did not care how small it seemed to them. Working for the huge tech company would have killed something vital inside him, now.
He did let Xiongzhang talk him into consulting for them. After all, he'd graduated youxiu biyesheng in computer science, and perhaps it would have been spiteful to himself not to use the degree at all. He could take work on his terms, and he did find satisfaction in the challenges they sent his way. He knew Xiongzhang was paying him far above the market rate for his time but he didn't confront him about it. It was hardly a loss for the company, and he thought Xiongzhang deserved some face. After all, it wasn't his fault that things turned out the way they had.
It took time for things to settle between them. After that first outburst Xiongzhang never complained about it again, but he didn't have to. He had never been able to disguise his emotions. It took even longer for any kind of reconciliation with Shufu, and Wangji suspected Xiongzhang talked up his consulting role heavily to soften him up. At the occasional stilted dinners they shared (speaking only once the food was finished, of course) Wangji avoided any subjects that had caused problems in the past and bit his tongue whenever Shufu's remarks cut close to the bone. They'd never discussed the incident after the fact, and Wangji thought perhaps it was for the best if they never did.
Wangji built a life in which he was perhaps not happy, or even content, but was at least comfortable. He opened his own music classes, named for his mother's favourite flower, teaching guqin and other instruments to students of all ages (though mostly children), and quietly offered pro bono classes for families who could not otherwise afford it. He did not pursue postgraduate study at university, but allowed himself a single paper each year in a new subject. He read as widely as possible, broadened his culinary horizons, and sought out music he wouldn't automatically choose to listen to. He wrote his own, and occasionally shared it with his brother, though nobody else.
(He did not share the ballad that spilled from his fingers like it had a life of its own and had merely needed his assistance to rise from the strings of his qin, laying his heart bare to anyone who knew how to listen. That piece would remain private, even the name unspoken. Even to himself.)
He still found solace in many of the Lan family rules. He slept at the proper times, and was quiet during meals (not that he usually had anyone to talk to), and meditated to keep his mind balanced. He did everything in his life to the best of his abilities, not because he had to, but because it felt right in his heart. That urge would always be a part of him, he thought.
He didn't date, and even Xiongzhang seemed wary of broaching that particular subject. Sometimes he thought he should try, and there were a few times he thought men were making the appropriate advances. None of them fit his very specific set of requirements. He felt a little ashamed for still being so preoccupied with his first love. But it was not his fault that he could still hear Wei Ying's laugh with perfect clarity in the quietness of his own head. Not his fault that his heart still stuttered when he saw a character of his name out of context. That his body filled with a heat and need late at night that only one person had ever inspired. If he could not have Wei Ying - and obviously he could not - then he would stay single indefinitely. That was fine, he thought. He was good at being alone.
Two years after graduating from university he discovered a game called Where The Chaos Is that he genuinely enjoyed. It was still not quite the same - perhaps nothing ever would be - but it was the closest he'd come to recapturing the innocent joy of those days playing Cloud Recesses. Somehow that made him feel worse and he found himself drinking one night for the first time in his life. When he woke up (feeling awful, and not understanding why anyone would do it a second time), Xiongzhang was on his couch under a couple of throw blankets. He'd clearly just woken at around the same time as Wangji, and winced a little as he sat up. Wangji had a nice couch, but couches were not meant for sleeping on. Wangji stared, mystified to find him there.
"Good morning, Wangji," Xiongzhang said. "Do you feel okay?"
"Xiongzhang," Wangji greeted him, not over his surprise. "You…"
"You called last night, sounding very unlike yourself, so da-ge and I came to get you. You- How much do you remember?"
Wangji frowned as he realised he had, in fact, no memory of the previous night.
"Mm, I suspected that might be the case, based on personal experience," Xiongzhang said easily. "It's genetic, don't worry. You, er, have you seen…? On your thigh."
Wangji went to the bathroom to let down his trousers and stared for a while at the small white rabbit tattooed below his hip, the skin around it red and angry. It looked suspiciously like the drawings Wei Ying did for him all those years ago.
His ears were burning when he returned to the living area, where Xiongzhang was working out where he kept his tea.
"I…"
"We picked you up from a truly shady-looking tattoo parlour. You were distressed about not being allowed into the rabbit café, so we had to take you back to prove to you it was closed for the night." Xiongzhang spoke delicately, as if aware that this must all be mortifying for Wangji. His eyes lingered on the bandage that had appeared on Wangji's wrist this morning. "You became quite angry for a bit, then got surprisingly talkative."
"I apologise," Wangji said, chest tight with embarrassment.
"No need, didi," Xiongzhang said gently. "It was your first time, mm? Yes, well- You're a grown man so I won't tell you what to do, but I've certainly found for myself that drinking is really not worth it. Although," and his eyes twinkled just a bit, "you were a little endearing toward the end. It reminded me of when you were very young and Mama would pinch your cheeks."
He smiled apologetically at Wangji's scandalised look. "Sorry, I won't tease." He put a cup of Wangji's favourite tea in front of him, then pursed his lips. "He's the same one from back then, isn't he? The man you're in love with."
Wangji was suddenly a cornered lion, panic rising in his throat. He half-stood from his chair. It was not as if he wasn't out to his family, but his memories of the occasion were- painful. He'd sort of thought - hoped - they'd forgotten.
Xiongzhang's smile faded.
"I'm not Shufu, Wangji. And I just want you to be happy," he said gravely. "If you're into men, I support you." He reached as if to put a hand on Wangji's shoulder, then seemed to think better of it.
Wangji's heart rate slowed, muscles relaxing grudgingly as he took a mouthful of tea. When he'd drunk half the cup, he felt able to answer. "Yes. Wei Ying." He'd rarely spoken the name out loud before. Well, not during daylight hours, not for anyone else's ears. It felt almost salacious, in that way.
"Have you been in contact with him since then?"
"No. We had never talked outside of the game. Things happened… suddenly." Wangji hadn't had the urge to confide in his big brother in years, and he hesitated as he felt the distance between them. Wanting to go on, but so used to keeping everything buried by now.
"You spoke a little about it last night. I'm sorry, Wangji-di." Xichen handed him his coat as he finished his tea. "Come on, let's go and get breakfast."
"I can cook."
"Of course you can, but you don't have century eggs, so we're going out for congee with the works."
"I haven't even meditated yet," Wangji objected.
"Special occasion," Xiongzhang said, steering him toward the door, gentle but inexorable as the tide. "If this is going to be your one and only hangover, it's my responsibility as your gege to make sure you do it right." He did not listen to any protests, and Wangji had to admit that he felt much better after they'd eaten an unnecessarily luxurious breakfast.
Somehow things got easier between them after that. They saw each other more often, and Wangji found himself gradually talking more freely with his brother, like they had once when they were small and the world was simple. Bit by bit, they worked out how to lean on each other again. It was not as if everything was magically fixed overnight, but the bridge finally felt like it had a middle.
He continued to play Where The Chaos Is and gave himself permission to enjoy it. Made an effort to reconnect with his extended family with Xiongzhang's guidance. Found as many ways to make his life meaningful as possible. When one of Xiongzhang's best friends died unexpectedly, he was there to support him through it and felt, though he was just about tactful enough not to say so at the time, like things really were alright between them again. He filled his days with things he could look back on with satisfaction and kept well away from alcohol.
And all the while he tried very, very hard not to wonder what it would be like to be happy.