Chapter Text
"I'm just saying, Lan Zhan, we're going to find way more potential clients online than by just sitting around and waiting for them to knock on our door."
"The old ways serve me just fine."
"The old ways haven't brought us a new case in a month, and I'm tired of waiting. At this rate, I'm going to go haunt somewhere myself just so I can get out of the office for a while."
"Do what you must. I won't stop you."
An irritated humph is all the warning Lan Zhan gets before a hand snakes over the top of his book to yank it from his fingers. Instead of an (admittedly, rather dry) chapter about the economic prosperity of the Tang Dynasty, he finds himself nose-to-nose with an exasperated Wei Ying as the other man crowds into his personal space. His friend is frustrated today, Lan Zhan notes absentmindedly, and more so than usual. Wei Ying's expression is an open book, just as it always has been; though the light dancing behind his silver eyes is no dimmer than usual, there's a restless furrow between his brows and a twist to his pretty mouth that spells trouble, his bottom lip jutting out in a boyish pout.
Lan Zhan wants to bite it.
In a truly monumental display of self control, he does not reach out to drag his friend into his lap, simply snapping the hefty Tang tome shut with a roll of his eyes. "Wei Ying," Lan Zhan says levelly, "should there be a spiritual disturbance that requires our intervention, the relevant parties will seek us out of their own accord. That is how it is, and how it always has been. To go out of our way to proactively find such disturbances will only lead to misfortune."
Lan Zhan's armchair is definitely not built to hold two people, but neither of them complain as Wei Ying squeezes into what remaining space there is around Lan Zhan's body, kicking his long legs into a position that cannot be at all comfortable.
"That's a funny way of admitting you're scared of technology," Wei Ying mutters under his breath, and Lan Zhan's jaw clenches.
It's…not an entirely incorrect observation. Wei Ying, who had met his unfortunate demise only a scant few decades ago, seems to have taken the rapid-fire evolution of technology in stride. On the other hand, Lan Zhan finds keeping up with it to be a terrible chore.
It hadn't always been so bad. He had found the telegraph rather intriguing, in fact, and had even been quite partial to the radio when it had first taken off. Unfortunately, the wheel of human innovation has only continued to turn faster and faster since, and these days the release of each shiny new gadget makes Lan Zhan long for the slow, simple life he'd left behind so many centuries ago.
Perhaps he is, as Wei Ying so often tells him, a fuddy-duddy. Lan Zhan is fine with that, if it means he is not expected to learn how to use a smartphone.
"Just humor me and look at this for a moment, would you?" Wei Ying prods, pressing even further into his space. The warm weight of his body is pleasant enough that Lan Zhan acquiesces for once, though he frowns as he squints down at the glare of the tiny screen held under his nose.
"What am I supposed to be seeing?" He sighs, and Wei Ying makes an odd pinching motion on the screen with his fingers. As if by magic the text on the screen grows larger, wider, mercifully bold enough for Lan Zhan to actually be able to read it.
"This part. See here? There's this big fancy gallery over in Suzhou that's trying to put on a new exhibition, but the pieces keep going missing from the back rooms, turning up in weird places." With a brisk tap on the text, Wei Ying looks up at him with barely concealed excitement. "One of the gallery curators posted about it on Weibo asking for advice. He thinks maybe the exhibition is cursed, or the gallery is haunted, or something spooky like that."
Lan Zhan heaves a deep breath, long and slow. "And I suppose you also think it's haunted, do you?"
Wei Ying shrugs, but either he doesn't manage to contain his smirk, or he simply doesn't bother trying. "Me? Couldn't say. Seems like the sort of thing we'd have to check out ourselves to know for sure, doesn't it?"
What on earth could wait for them in Suzhou but a fool's errand? Whether Wei Ying's gallery is truly haunted or not, it's still hours of travel from home, even if they can slip onto one of the fancy high-speed trains. Lan Zhan is no stranger to travel, but he's all too aware that every second they're away from the safety of their office could be the second in which Death finally catches up to them, finally pins them down and draws them into her warm embrace. They've had far too many close calls recently — it simply won't do to risk another.
There's also the fact that Lan Zhan hasn't been back to Suzhou in many, many years, not since it went by a different name entirely. However selfish it might be, he has no desire to return. No matter how much he may ache for the distant shores of Gusu, there is no returning to a home that no longer exists, regardless of how much he might yearn to at times.
Still… Though he may have his reasons for not wanting to leave, the thought of caging a spirit as free as Wei Ying's is unthinkable.
If you love something, set it free. Isn't that how the old saying goes?
"Are you bored here?" Lan Zhan asks quietly after a moment, eyes fixed on the wall in front of them.
Wei Ying chews at his lip. A dull rhythm throbs like a heartbeat across Lan Zhan's skin as his friend taps his fingers across his shoulder absentmindedly. "I guess?" He finally answers. "It's not that I don't like it here. I just need to get out of here for a little while, you know? Breathe some fresh air, see some new sights!"
Lan Zhan's heart sinks, a stone in his chest. "Then what is stopping you from leaving? You are free to come and go as you please." At Wei Ying's puzzled look, he clears his throat once, twice, before continuing. "It's true that we've been working together for some time now, but that does not mean you are obligated to stay here for all eternity. Wei Ying, you may go where you please. You are not bound to this place."
You are not bound to me, he doesn't say — at least, he doesn't say with words.
But Lan Zhan has spent so many years wandering alone that he has forgotten that the most important things don't always need to be said out loud, not to those who matter.
He's startled away from staring a hole in the wall by soft fingers smoothing the furrow from his brow. "Lan Zhan, ah, Lan Zhan. You're so silly, do you know that? As if I could ever get bored of working with you." Wei Ying tuts at him good-naturedly, the corners of his mouth twitching up sweetly as if he doesn't know that Lan Zhan would do anything for him. "Whether you like it or not, you're stuck with me for the rest of our afterlives. Now stop scowling, you'll ruin your pretty face with wrinkles."
They both know this is impossible; Lan Zhan's appearance hasn't changed since the day he died. He stops scowling nonetheless.
"That's better." Wei Ying's grin, as warm and lovely as ever, turns pensive as he thinks to himself for a moment. "I'm not planning on packing my bags and leaving forever, nothing like that. I'm just feeling a little restless, you know? I was the same back when I was alive. Sometimes I just need to go somewhere new, do something different, shake things up a little, that's all."
"And Suzhou of all places will help with that?"
"Maybe? I dunno. I thought it might be fun." There's a flash of something in Wei Ying's gaze as he glances away, shifting against Lan Zhan. "I thought it might be fun for both of us to go. Like a vacation! It's supposed to be really nice there around this time of year, and I figured that you'd be more inclined to come with me if there was actual detective work to be done."
It's testament to the twenty years they've spent glued to each other's side that Lan Zhan only has to raise an eyebrow for Wei Ying to correct himself. "Fine, fine, spiritual cultivation, not detective work, whatever. Same thing."
There are plenty of things Lan Zhan could say to that, but he bites his tongue. Twenty years, they've been working together. Twenty years since their first meeting, twenty years since Lan Zhan had stumbled across the final moments of Wei Ying's short life, twenty years since he had helped guide his friend's trembling spirit to the other side.
I'm what you'd call a ghost, Lan Zhan had said, and Wei Ying had shrugged.
I've been dead for hundreds of years, Lan Zhan had said, and Wei Ying had grinned.
I chose to stay behind and pacify spiritual disturbances instead of passing on to the next life, Lan Zhan had said, and Wei Ying had taken a deep breath and replied, Where do I sign up?
For twenty years, Wei Ying has worked by his side without so much as a complaint, quietly adapting to a life that he could never have expected. Never changing, never aging, never moving on.
Of course he's restless. And though Lan Zhan is many things, he is not cruel enough to force Wei Ying into a life where joy stops at death.
There are still many, many reasons they should not go to Suzhou. Lan Zhan takes a long, thoughtful look at his friend and decides that none of them matter.
"When do we leave?" He finally mutters, and as Wei Ying whoops and curls his limbs around him like a koala, he's reminded that even long-dead hearts can still skip a beat.