Chapter Text
Wei Wuxian’s bouncing leg stopped when he felt A-Yuan’s hand on it.
“Xian-gege, you’ll hurt Zidian if you keep doing that. Even A-Ling is stressed.”
Wei Wuxian chuckled to hide his embarrassment. Then, his hand darted to pinch A-Yuan’s round cheeks. “Ah! Sorry, sorry! My apologies to A-Ling!”
Yelping in surprise, A-Yuan tried to get away. But Wei Wuxian wouldn’t give up. With a quick glance, he checked on the toddler two seats down. In response, A-Ling gasped and covered his cheeks with chubby hands and leaned backward, shaking his head.
Wei Wuxian laughed harder. He kept a hand on Zidian’s carrier, wishing to take a peek at the snake. The contraption was purple with black accents, sturdy, with cushioned, insulated panels that maintained a constant temperature inside. Jiang Cheng had made sure Wei Wuxian learned the protocol: once they left home, the lid should only be opened once they were with the herpetologist. They had spent hours putting the carrier together, securing a snake plushie—provided by Jiang Yanli—and opening it again.
“When are we doing this blindfolded? I’m ready for a challenge, A-Cheng!”
“This is serious, Wei Wuxian! If anything happens to my snake while I’m not here, I’m going to break your legs!”
At this point, the ‘I’ll-break-your-legs’ threat was more of an endearment, so Wei Wuxian didn’t think much of it. He just memorized every step, since Zidian was a living creature and he didn’t wish any harm to the snake.
He finally let go of A-Yuan, who rubbed his now even redder cheek. “You’re so responsible, you know? I don’t know how I’d manage without you,” Wei Wuxian added in earnest. He and A-Ling alone in the waiting room of a veterinary clinic was a recipe for disaster.
“Qing-jiejie said to help when I could.” A-Yuan picked up a toy from the floor and went back to play with A-Ling.
Meanwhile, Wei Wuxian went back to ruminate. He hadn’t planned for this but, then again, when did he ever? At times, he felt like he spent too much time putting out fires. His life was supposed to be back on track now that he had secured enough investors to work on The Burial Mounds—his pride and joy. A video game set in a xianxia world. He had most of it figured out—the setting, the story, the premium items, and it was coming along nicely. Only the design of the main character was missing.
Either way, because he worked at home, he got plenty of requests for babysitting—and snakesitting.
This disaster started the previous day, when Jiang Cheng left for his business convention.
“I’ll be back on Monday. Make sure to read—and double-read—the notes I left next to Zidian’s terrarium. I know that with the upcoming cold front it’s not the best time for me to—”
Wei Wuxian, head wrapped under the safety of his favorite blanket, cut him off with a hand wave and a sleepy grin. He held a cup of coffee with the other. “It’s fine. Thanks to your training, I’m more than capable of taking care of your baby. Have fun at your conference,” he added with a yawn. “Now hurry or your ride’ll leave you behind.”
Jiang Cheng scoffed and left, followed by his three bodyguards, who had already taken the luggage to the car.
Since he was already up, Wei Wuxian turned on his computer and started to work. The rest of the day was a breeze.
The next morning, Jiang Yanli called a little after ten, asking for help with her son for the day. His answer? Kicking off the blanket and looking for his car keys. Before he reached the parking lot, a second call came in. Wen Ning, this time. He and Wen Qing were swamped with work and exams and papers, so Wei Wuxian also immediately agreed to take their little cousin off their hands for the week.
For any other kid, Wei Wuxian would’ve thought twice about it. But A-Yuan was an example of good behavior and common sense. As much as anyone can be at five years old, anyway. Now, with A-Yuan keeping an eye on A-Ling, Wei Wuxian hoped to have time to work. Deadlines didn’t wait for anyone, not even the cutest baby.
Or that’s what he thought until, once he had settled the children and their luggage in the guest room, disaster descended upon them.
“Xian-gege!” A-Yuan called, hands and nose pressed against the terrarium glass. “Zidian is not moving!”
“Not moving!” A-Ling repeated, standing on his tiptoes and imitating the other boy.
Neither of them would’ve done that had Jiang Cheng been at home.
“What do you mean she’s not moving?” Wei Wuxian asked, kneeling down next to the boys, mimicking their position.
He also wouldn’t have done that with his adoptive brother around.
A-Yuan was right. The three of them remained in that position for about a minute and, although Zidian seemed to be breathing, she remained utterly still. Weird. The snake was always active at that time of day, slithering all over her terrarium. She hadn’t even touched the mouse Wei Wuxian had microwaved and left for her earlier—which should be taken out before it started to stink. But that was a secondary emergency. Zidian had to be dealt with first.
That was how Wei Wuxian ended up with two kids and a snake in a box in the waiting room of a fancy veterinary clinic, bouncing his leg in distress—yet glad he had tagged along with Jiang Cheng once before. This saved him from having to text him—or worse, call him—asking for the address. He’d love to live a little longer.
“Good evening. Hello. Excuse me. Don’t mind me,” said another boy as he walked into the waiting room. He was around A-Yuan’s age and held a small carrier in both hands. His face lit up when he saw two other children in the room. “I’m Lan Jingyi! Who are you?”
“I’m Wen Yuan. This is Jin Ling, and that’s Xian-gege,” A-Yuan answered, gladly taking point.
“What? No full name for me?” Wei Wuxian mock-complained.
“What’s that?” A-Ling asked. He hopped down from the chair with the express purpose of looking into the carrier.
“This is my cousin’s bunny,” Lan Jingyi said as he placed it on the floor. “He’s at the front desk, but he’ll be here in a minute.”
“Is the bunny sick?” A-Yuan asked.
“Nah,” Lan Jingyi replied. “He just needs to have his teeth checked. Did you know? Let a bunny’s teeth grow without control and they can go up, up, up all the way to its skull and—and puahhh! Blood and brains explode everywhere!” The boy finished his performance with some choice sound effects.
His audience let out some worried gasps but nothing more.
Lan Jingyi pouted and slouched his shoulders. “Everyone tells me to stop being scary once I get to the brain part.”
“Xian-gege’s zombie stories have more detail,” A-Yuan said.
Jingyi looked at Wei Wuxian with bright eyes. “Really? Can I hear one?”
“No scary stories!” A-Ling looked from Lan Jingyi to Wei Wuxian, his glare so Jiang Cheng-like that Wei Wuxian shuddered.
“It’s Burial Mounds lore! I’m just sharing my work with you, guys. Besides, it helps broaden your vocabulary.”
“What’s Burial Mounds?” Lan Jingyi asked.
“A video game I’m working on. It’ll definitely be out by the time you’re old enough to play it. Hopefully much, much sooner, since I want it to be for ages 13 and up. Point is, come find me then and I’ll get you a discount and maybe throw in a DLC or two.”
Jingyi bounced. “Awesome! I love getting free stuff!”
“Don’t we all.” Wei Wuxian laughed and ruffled the kid’s hair, not caring at all that they’d just met.
“I didn’t know bunny dentists exist,” A-Ling said.
Wei Wuxian just loved that pensive look on his innocent face. “Are you imagining a bunny who is a dentist or a human checking a bunny’s mouth on a tiny chair?”
A-Ling gaped, surprised to even have options. “A… human?”
Wei Wuxian laughed out loud.
A-Ling shot back an offended glare, as if Wei Wuxian wasn’t going to do that regardless of the answer.
“Do you know what’s important?” A-Yuan asked. “This is an animal hospital. If his teeth need help, he’s already in the best place!”
Lan Jingyi’s face lit up. “Yes! The Lan Animal Clinic is the best!” He beamed and then turned his attention to the box on Wei Wuxian’s lap. “By the way, who’s your patient?”
“Zidian,” A-Ling announced. “She’s a snake.”
“We think she’s dead,” A-Yuan murmured too.
“She’s not! She’s not! We’re not sure of anything!” Wei Wuxian hurried to add, squirming in his chair when he saw A-Ling’s face crinkling, about to cry. He had already gone through an ordeal on their way there to calm the little one.
Meanwhile, Lan Jingyi tapped his lips, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought. “I know how we can find out.”
“How?” Wei Wuxian and A-Yuan asked at the same time.
“Help xiao-jiujiu’s baby,” A-Ling mumbled as he wiped his face with his sleeve.
With a wide, ceremonious hand gesture, Lan Jingyi opened the carrier and extracted the bunny, a small, fluffy thing not much bigger than his hand. “We’ll have your snake smell him and if she tries to eat him we’ll know—!”
“No!” exclaimed everyone in the room at the same time. Wei Wuxian jerked Zidian’s carrier over his head to keep the snake away from the bunny.
“Jingyi,” said a deep, even voice coming from the door.
Jingyi’s energy disappeared and he put the bunny back in the carrier. “Experiments without proper supervision are against the rules, I know, I’m sorry.”
Wei Wuxian looked up to see the newcomer—and his breath caught. Standing in the doorway was the most beautiful and elegant man he’d ever seen. Ethereal, even. He was dressed in white and his every movement flowed like water. Light coming in from the window shone over his rich black hair, reflecting in his amber eyes. He came in with larger carriers in each hand, which he promptly placed at his feet.
Many things went through Wei Wuxian’s mind, but the one that made it past his lips was, “My protagonist!”
“I’m sorry?” the beautiful man asked as he straightened up.
Realizing what he had said, Wei Wuxian lowered the carrier to his chest and sprang to his feet. “Nothing—it’s nothing!” He laughed—and got no reaction from the man. Not even the smallest of smiles. “Ah, anyway, my name is Wei Wuxian.”
“I’m Wen Yuan,” said A-Yuan, holding one of Wei Wuxian’s legs, but trying to look into the carriers.
“Jin Ling,” said A-Ling, holding Wei Wuxian’s other leg. He was obviously fed up with other people introducing him. Yet, he continued to copy everything A-Yuan did. “Are they more bunnies?”
“Lan Wangji,” said the man. “Yes, those are more bunnies.” His voice softened when he answered the question.
“He’s my cousin! And the new vet tech in the clinic!” Lan Jingyi declared, folding his arms in front of his puffed-out chest. “And they’re my new friends!” he told the man. “They came because their snake died.”
“She’s not dead!” A-Ling exclaimed.
“We’re not sure,” A-Yuan said.
Wei Wuxian felt his smile turning awkward. He could only hope Lan Wangji wouldn’t think him a terrible pet owner, even if he didn’t own this particular pet. “It’s a long story.”
Lan Wangji nodded. “Zidian? Doctor Lan Qiren is ready for you.”
Wei Wuxian’s heart fluttered at the idea of Lan Wangji escorting him to the exam room. “Ah, great, thanks. Let’s go, kids.”
But the kids didn’t move.
“Xian-gege, can we stay with Lan Jingyi and the bunnies?” A-Yuan asked.
“Yes, da-jiujiu. I like bunnies.”
“Ah—” On the one hand, Wei Wuxian didn’t want to—shouldn’t—leave them out of his sight. On the other, this could serve as a buffer in case the doctor had bad news about Zidian.
Lan Wangji settled the matter with a single phrase. “I can look after them.”
“Will you? That would be wonderful. But I— I mean, I’m not sure where I should go exactly.”
“Down the hall, last door on the right.”
“Yes, that’s—that’s good. Thanks again. A-Yuan, keep an eye on A-Ling. A-Ling, behave.”
“Yes,” the kids replied in unison and hurried to join Lan Jingyi around the carriers.
Before leaving the room, Wei Wuxian turned to see Lan Wangji unrolling yoga mats he produced from somewhere. Once they were all sitting down, he opened the carriers and coaxed the bunnies out with a soft voice. Wei Wuxian wouldn’t object to hearing it in his ear.
That’s when he decided to finally leave, before his heart managed to jump out of his chest.
I didn’t kill her! Wei Wuxian thought while Doctor Lan Qiren explained brumation at length. He was one of the best-regarded herpetologists in the world, handpicked by Jiang Cheng to be Zidian’s specialist. This made the man—Lan Qiren, no Jiang Cheng—one of the few people Wei Wuxian forced himself to listen to. An uphill battle since his brain insisted on deciding how he’d render the light reflecting in Lan Wangji’s eyes.
“I find it strange that Mr. Jiang didn’t mention it. He’s usually very thorough.”
The image of Jiang Cheng’s tall stack of notes, scattered on the ground when he moved Zidian from the terrarium to the carrier, flashed in Wei Wuxian’s mind. “He was running late for an out-of-town conference, so…”
“You haven’t offered her any food, have you? That’s dangerous in her state.”
Wei Wuxian let out a nervous laugh. “Nope. And I certainly would’ve never offered her a microwaved mouse, hahaha…” He shut up when Lan Qiren’s eyebrow rose all the way to the man’s hairline, feeling judged.
“As long as you’re aware of how stupid that would be.”
Clearing his throat, Wei Wuxian grabbed Zidian’s carrier and nodded several times. “Of course, of course! Thank you very much for the advice and I’m sorry for wasting your time. I’m glad it’s just a funny story to tell the kids.”
Lan Qiren sighed and walked Wei Wuxian out of the examination room. “It would’ve been a lot worse for Zidian if you hadn’t. Remember to follow the instructions to the letter.”
“I will. Don’t worry. Thanks again!” Wei Wuxian said before speeding back to the waiting room, ready to share the good news and try to get Lan Wangji’s number.
When he reached the waiting room, he found A-Ling (good), A-Yuan (good), Lan Jingyi (nice), and three bunnies (fluffy) on the yoga mats, but no trace of Lan Wangji (ouch). In his place, an elderly woman in the doctor’s uniform was telling them the story of a family of rabbits living in the countryside.
Ah, well. He still had his good news to share. He waited for the story to stop at a natural pause before butting in. “Hey, kids, guess what?”
“What?” three voices asked at the same time while three pairs of eyes locked on him. Kind of creepy, but it showed Lan Jingyi’s almost perfect assimilation into the pack.
Wei Wuxian grinned and showed them the carrier. “Zidian—will be fine! The cold made her sleepy, but that’s something that happens to her species. We just need to keep her warm.”
“Yay!” exclaimed four voices now, since Wei Wuxian joined the kids in the celebration. Even the new doctor clapped alongside them.
A-Ling spun in place with the enthusiastic innocence of toddlerhood. “Now xiao-jiujiu won’t break da-jiujiu’s legs!”
“Yes, thank you,” Wei Wuxian said. “By the way, where is—?”
Lan Jingyi tugged at Wei Wuxian’s pants. “My cousin had to help with an emergency surgery.”
“He asked me to fill in for him and offer you his apologies for not being here when you returned,” the new doctor added.
“Thank you. That’s very kind of you to watch over this lot,” Wei Wuxian replied with honest gratitude. Then, he pushed down his disappointment. Asking how long the surgery would be was on the wrong side of invasive, and he had three vulnerable living creatures to look after. In the end, he turned to A-Yuan and A-Ling. “Alright, kids. Let’s go home.”
“Aw,” they whined, with Lan Jingyi joining the chorus.
“I’d offer to take Lan Jingyi with us but I already made the head doctor angry enough. The police will interrogate him about an alleged kidnapping and disrupt his clinic. That might as well be my death sentence!”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Lan Jingyi said. With great solemnity, he shook A-Yuan’s and A-Ling’s hands goodbye.
A-Ling accepted the handshake after an instant’s hesitation and a wrinkle of his nose. However, A-Yuan hugged him—and got hugged back. Wei Wuxian placed Zidian’s carrier on a chair so he could take a few pictures of these precious moments. “Look at the boys making a new friend!” he wrote as a caption when he sent them to Jiang Yanli and Wen Ning.
Now, to the front desk. Wei Wuxian got his phone ready to pay for the consultation. He wasn’t sure how much it’d be, but it couldn’t be cheap. “Make it quick. I’ll close my eyes. Tell me when it’s over so I don’t have to look.”
The receptionist cleared her throat to swallow a giggle. Then, she replied in a well-practiced customer service voice. “The invoice has already been sent to the account linked to Zidian’s file. The payment is taken care of.”
A cold shiver went down Wei Wuxian’s spine. There went his plan of Jiang Cheng never finding out about this.
Well, since he had his phone out, he turned it off before loading the kids and the snake into his car and driving everyone home.
During the trip to the apartment, Wei Wuxian found out that Lan Wangji had the foresight to give the children advice about Zidian.
“Vet-gege said that Zidian will need silence,” A-Yuan said.
“Turn the radio off!” A-Ling said.
“I’ll turn it down,” Wei Wuxian said.
“No! Off!” A-Ling insisted.
“Fine. I’m not sure she can hear anything inside that carrier, though.”
A-Yuan continued. “He also said that she needs warmth.”
“Make the car hot!” A-Ling said.
“Warm is not hot,” Wei Wuxian protested.
“Hot!” A-Ling yelled.
“Fine, fine. Only because I love you.”
Thus, Wei Wuxian found himself driving in silence, sweating through his shirt. The kids wouldn’t allow even the smallest crack in the window. Thankfully, the apartment building was less than twenty minutes away.
The apartment Wei Wuxian shared with Jiang Cheng was in a tall, expensive building. It was close to Jiang Industries HQ too, an invaluable asset for their president. Jiang Cheng got the position when the former leader retired to travel the world with his wife, of all things. Currently, they were in Bruges. Wei Wuxian lived there rent-free until his video game empire took off. No timeline had been discussed, but Wei Wuxian had a lot of faith in his current project and the team he was working with.
“I want to look out the window!” A-Ling said as they crossed the lobby.
“If you promise you won’t get sick,” Wei Wuxian said as he leaned down to put the carrier on the floor. The lowest part of the elevator was covered with what the building administration called “an aesthetic metal stripe.” It would take a few more months for A-Ling to be able to look out without help.
A-Yuan stopped him. “I’ll help A-Ling. You keep Zidian up and away from the cold, Xian-gege.”
Wei Wuxian shrugged. He was done trying to explain that the panels inside the carrier kept the temperature stable by design. “Alright.”
A-Yuan struggled, but he managed to lift A-Ling high enough to see over the metal stripe. Wei Wuxian got ready to intervene because, even if the elevator was fast, they lived on the top floor. In the end, nothing happened. The worst part was A-Yuan’s heavy sigh when he let A-Ling down to get into the apartment.
The kids jumped in to “help” Wei Wuxian when he set Zidian’s carrier down in the terrarium.
“Left! Left!”
“No! Less left! A little to the right!”
“There! There!”
“Yes, that’s good.”
“Wow. You two are more nitpicky than the clients I got when I did fanart commissions.”
“What are commissions?” A-Ling asked.
“People pay him for drawing things,” A-Yuan said.
A-Ling gasped. “Pay? He’s my da-jiujiu! I always get free drawings!” He did his Jiang Cheng impression again and, ignoring A-Yuan’s prompt to slip in a ‘please,’ he added, “I want one of Zidian! And—And a bunny dentist!”
“Geez! Fine. Can it wait until I’ve read Jiang Cheng’s notes, though? I’d rather not mess up again.” Wei Wuxian added the last part more to himself. He also swallowed the comment on the fortune A-Ling would inherit one day, enough to sponsor countless artists without breaking a sweat.
A-Ling’s face contorted again but A-Yuan held his hand before his tantrum started. “It’s okay. We can change into our pajamas while he reads. He’s a fast reader.”
Wei Wuxian grinned his approval. “Yes, that sounds good.”
Reluctantly, A-Ling let A-Yuan lead him to the guest room. Meanwhile, Wei Wuxian sighed and picked up and organized the scattered pages—Jiang Cheng had been kind enough to number them. He winced when he compared the notes to the leaflet Lan Qiren gave him. The information matched almost word for word.
Wei Wuxian had finished scanning the documents and setting reminders to himself to read them again later when the children returned.
“Drawings! Drawings!” A-Ling chanted, bouncing his way down the hall. He donned his yellow pajamas with the logo of the Jin Corporation embroidered in the front.
A-Yuan said nothing, but he looked so hopeful about getting a drawing himself that it would be a crime to deny him.
“Okay. Digital or paper?”
Both children immediately replied, “Paper!”
“So we can color them!” A-Yuan clarified.
Wei Wuxian preferred working on his tablet but, again, it would be a crime to tell them not to. He fished out some paper from Jiang Cheng’s desk and pencils from the art supplies he still kept in the closet. Some minutes later, the three of them were lying on the thick carpet. The kids supervised the portraits of Zidian and the bunnies Wei Wuxian drew for them.
“Xian-gege! You have to draw them on different pages!” A-Yuan said.
“Do I? Why can’t they be friends and live together on the same piece of paper?”
“Because Zidian could eat the bunnies if she’s hungry!”
“Jingyi said!” A-Ling punctuated with a huff.
Wei Wuxian opened his mouth before shutting it. He should take advantage of his braincells engaging before the words gained a life of their own. Setting unrealistic expectations about the real animals was wrong—and realizing this in time had to be a sign of maturity.
“Alright,” he sighed, and grabbed two more sheets of paper.
When he was done, he gave the kids some colored pencils (not the good ones) and let them color. Then, he grabbed his laptop to do some work before bed. Once he plugged it into the docking station, his monitors came to life. A cascade of notifications buried the screen—and were dismissed out of reflex. He knew what they were: a new round of attacks from his personal hater and his bot farm.
He groaned. “Tsk! If it weren’t for your daddy’s money, Wen Chao…”
Wen Chao, one of Wen Ning’s more odious relatives. Wei Wuxian didn’t fault his friend for his blood relations, but he firmly believed that the world would be better without that side of the family unleashed on Earth. The months he’d worked for him were the most miserable time in his life. But any second spent dwelling on it had as much worth as Wen Chao himself. Wei Wuxian was out now, working on his own project. All he could—and should—do now was to power through and prove that asshole wrong. His current team was strong. They wouldn’t only survive; they’d thrive.
First things first, though. He maximized the chat window to inform his team that he had found the perfect protagonist—the perfect Hanguang-jun. He only had to ask this person to sign over the rights of his likeness, which would definitely happen the next time he saw him.
A notification popped up. It was a private message sent by one of his collaborators. A too-long apology to explain a single fact: the hate he received that day was too much and he had to quit.
That’s fine, Wei Wuxian told himself after a long moment of staring at the screen, his fingers hovering over the keyboard without touching it.
“I respect your choice,” he wrote. “No hard feelings.”
It was true. It was fine. It would be fine. The rest of his team was still there. The workload remained manageable. They’d be able to reach the deadlines and keep their backers happy.
That done, he shared the news, good and bad, with everyone. Then, he reassigned all the extra work to himself and began to pick up the slack.