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    While not having excessive experience with friendship, Lan Zhan has gathered enough from outside sources to construct a concept of it in his head. He has spent an inordinate amount of time trying to fit Wei Ying into the friendship category, but all his attempts were unsuccessful; no matter how hard Lan Zhan tries, how much he analyses and overanalyses their friendship, how much he extends the limits of friendship in his head, whatever the two of them have developed, it reaches beyond those limits.

    Friends don’t call each other pet names in the tone Wei Ying does, friends don’t kiss each other’s cheek, forehead, neck or hand as tenderly as they do. Friends don’t say my Lan Zhan, with honey dripping from their lips. Of course, they are best friends, a label that’s bound to alter and expand the lines drawn around friendship, but Lan Zhan still does not understand. Which is the issue, as per usual. He does not understand what they really are. He’d be more than content with whatever little crumbs Wei Ying chose to give him, but Wei Ying keeps offering himself up on a plate, in a way he does not do with anyone else, and Lan Zhan does not understand the intention behind it.

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    23 Sep 2024

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    “The sex. Is sex good?” Wei Ying urges on, and despite every part of him screaming on highest alert, Lan Zhan hums, affirmative. “I mean, yeah, I know sex is good. Well, it’s okay. But is it that good? The way movies and everyone else make it seem? Because I just think, like. Not even just sex, but getting off -- do you do that, Lan Zhan? I could never imagine you doing that, you’re so prim and proper,” Lan Zhan thinks he might black out any second if Wei Ying continues this train of thought, “I don’t know, orgasms are so overrated. The whole process is, too. It’s good for a while but then it gets… boring? Boring, yeah, the brain just starts to wander after a while, y’know how it is, and then I’m not into it anymore so what’s the point? Why do people do that to themselves, Lan Zhan? Sex is like a performance we’re putting on, right? I think my partners are usually better at acting than I am, they tell me how good it was afterwards and they’re all fucked out but like, that has to be an act, right?”

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    Wei Ying licks his suddenly dry lips, and continues. “It’s all petty drama, really, and you’ll probably think it’s stupid, hah...” He scratches his head, feeling extremely self-conscious.

    “It must have meant a lot to you,” says Lan Zhan, firmly. “And to the people who followed you.”

    The people who followed him? More like that single person. His chest fills with warmth as he thinks abruptly of bunny130809 and his bunny icon and his earnest, awkward, achingly sweet words.

    “Well, anyway,” Wei Ying says, eager to move on from the subject. It’s making him dizzy, the way Lan Zhan’s voice keeps bleeding into his old follower’s typed words. He’s probably just projecting, and that must say something about him, right? Had there been only two persons in all this time who’d been patient enough to really listen to him, for them to mesh together so seamlessly in his head?

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    16 May 2024

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    “Look, everyone knows them. You only need to open up the first business magazine you can get your hands on. They’ve both been in Forbes China 30 under 30 every year since they started working,” says Jiang Cheng quietly.

    “But he—he’s Lan Zhan,” says Wei Ying, and his voice finally breaks.

    He’s Lan Zhan, who tried to break into a crane game at the arcades to give him all the chicken plushies he could find. Lan Zhan, who waited for him at the line for couch number seven on the platform. Lan Zhan, who listened to him and indulged him as he tried to play detective and kissed him like he’d never been kissed before.

    Except maybe he only did it because the Wens wanted dirt on him, and all of this was an elaborate ploy to kill his second attempt at a career in this industry.

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    Wei Wuxian would have thought that the dragon’s voice would rattle the trees, shake the earth with its force. Instead, his voice is small and a little raspy. He speaks slowly, as if it is difficult to speak at all.

    “I accept....your offer,” he says painfully. “You know....the price? No leaving...until this season comes again...do you understand?”

    Wei Wuxian doesn’t feel fully in his body as he nods. “Yes.”

    ---

    Increasingly desperate, Wei Wuxian turns to unconventional means to help the Wens. If one can call trading away a year of his life to live in a secluded estate with a mountain spirit 'unconventional'. Or, the 'east of the sun, west of the moon' one.

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    05 Nov 2025

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    It’s mid-afternoon by the time he finishes tearing the robes apart. The only ones he can’t bear to destroy are the wedding robes. Lan Zhan must have kept them for someone and he wants to give them back, if he can.

    Once again, there isn’t much to pack. Wei Wuxian folds the wedding robes into his duffel bag, along with the dizi Lan Zhan gifted him, the painting he’d made the day Lan Zhan left.

    The last thing he does before he leaves is to visit the rabbits. They’re still in their clearing, completely unaffected by the absence of their keeper. Wei Wuxian crouches in the clearing, unsuccessfully trying to beckon the rabbits to him.

    “I’m going to bring him back,” he promises. It occurs to him that they’re the first words he’s said since Lan Zhan left.

    Then, with his makeshift rope wrapped around his arm, he heads to the edge of the mountain.

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    To say that he runs to his car would be incorrect, as he is a Lan, and running is both undignified and unnecessary unless in immediate danger. Nor does he slam his key into the ignition, or aggressively swerve around the cars on the freeway, or have a mild panic attack at the fact he is picking A-Yuan up late from school for the first time ever.

    He comes close, though.

    By the time he arrives, it’s 4:35PM, and he has imagined about fifty different worse-case scenarios. The door is partly open when he gets to it, a messy label of 104B—Art Room scrawled with chalk on a placard next to the faded wood. As he opens it fully, he expects to see a wailing, terrified child, or perhaps a scene of utter misery and betrayal.

    What he finds is his son, hands covered in paint, being sung to by a beautiful, dark-haired stranger.

    “Ducks live in the pond, yellow ducks, happy ducks!”

    Lan Wangji stops in his tracks.
     

    (Or: Falling in love with your son’s art teacher, in five parts)

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    30 Mar 2024

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    When Lan Wangji just stares at him, uncertain, Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “You know what, forget it. Hurry up and follow me, and don’t tell him that I came outside to find you, ok? Just—I don’t know, act cool. Hey, those flowers are for him, right?”

    The way he says it makes Lan Wangji think if the flowers aren’t for Wei Ying, they might end up in the nearest trashcan. He holds them tighter against his jacket, protective.

    “Yes.”

    Jiang Cheng looks closely at him, then nods once, jerky. “Good. Come on.”

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    Steve doesn’t think anything of it, the first time. He’s sitting in the boathouse with Munson, waiting for something to happen. He refuses to think about it as hanging out or anything. It’s not like they really know each other.

    -

    Or, the one where Eddie won't stop saying "as you wish". It doesn't make things any easier for Steve to figure out.

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    21 Mar 2026

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    If this were still last August, Steve would be grimly preparing to die. He’d be thinking about how he was right the whole time. He’d be scared, sure, but determined to take the vampire down with him.

    Steve’s scared right now, but not for himself. Not really. He’s scared about what this means for Eddie, scared that Eddie is about to do something he’ll regret, but Steve can’t be bothered to be afraid for his own sake.

    Eddie takes a step forward. Steve’s thrust back in time. Eddie moved the same way, looked the same way that night. Predator, his hindbrain screams. Run away, run away. Steve’s not fucking running. He looks Eddie dead in his red eyes.