Chapter Text
Despite being prone to boasting and exaggeration, Wei Ying isn’t overestimating himself when he claims to be one of the best sprinters that Hubei province has ever produced. When also adding on his intelligence, musical abilities, overflowing charisma, handsome looks, and impressive Gaokao scores Wei Ying is quite the catch.
So it’s no surprise that he was awarded a full athletic scholarship to the prestigious Gusu University.
Well, maybe it was a little bit of a surprise considering Gusu University’s connection to the middle boarding school, Lan Academy - the same school that a fifteen year old Wei Ying managed to get expelled from after only six months.
But since it was practically guaranteed that Wei Ying would be competing in the next Olympics, the Lans were obviously able to recover from the trauma that was Wei Ying’s ability to break ten rules before breakfast and his public fistfight with the Jin Real Estate Empire’s heir. It’s either that or amnesia that explains why the current Vice-Chancellor of Gusu University, Lan Qiren, would willingly accept Wei Ying's admission despite almost making the man cough up blood on multiple occasions while he was Chairman of Lan Academy all those years ago.
An even bigger surprise is that he ended up roommates with Lan Zhan - the same Lan Academy disciplinarian whose life mission used to be punishing Wei Ying for every single act of indiscretion. He’s unsure why his unwanted rival is in shared campus accommodation in the first place when his family is more than wealthy enough to afford a high-rise condo all to himself.
Wei Ying suspects Lan Zhan is meant to be a spy, keeping tabs on Wei Ying in order to find an excuse for Lan Qiren to expel him again.
According to Jiang Cheng this hypothesis is “delusional” and “extremely paranoid” because Lan Zhan often goes out of his way to avoid Wei Ying.
It’s a sad fact that in the month since Wei Ying started university he’s only managed to have a small handful of long conversations with Lan Zhan, often getting minimalistic replies that consist of single decibel words and bland looks of forbearance. He barely even makes eye contact!
Thankfully, Wei Ying still remembers his old three step plan from middle school for befriending the elusive Lan Zhan.
First, he will wear down his defences by provoking him into uncharacteristic outbursts of emotion, slowly shattering the neutral mask he always wears.
Second, Wei Ying will worm his way into Lan Zhan’s thoughts and life by sheer persistence, inviting him to hang out and eventually convincing him to visit Lotus Pier so he can introduce him to his family. Then they can have sleepovers and talk about pretty girls and go running and swimming together and eat at all of Wei Ying’s favourite restaurants.
Three, make Lan Zhan a matching friendship bracelet and tell him “no take-backs”.
Sadly, Wei Ying never got past step one while at Lan Academy the first time around. But with Lan Zhan coming back into his life Wei Ying won’t let this fortuitous chance go. He really couldn’t care less if Lan Zhan is a spy. Wei Ying plans on becoming so close to him that he could murder someone in front of him and he would simply help Wei Ying hide the body.
The main problem with this plan is that Lan Zhan has changed. He’s no longer so prone to yelling or spluttering about Wei Ying’s shamelessness and thick face; he’s somehow become even more quiet, and worst of all, he has developed the ability to ignore Wei Ying no matter what he says or does.
Nothing seems to get to him, from Wei Ying calling him Lan Er-gege, to him coming home late and drunk from parties, or even entering their room after bathing stark naked, wearing nothing but a towel.
Often Lan Zhan’s face will be wiped of all emotion, his eyes becoming serene pools with unfathomable hidden depths, making him appear as though he has achieved spontaneous nirvana. He will maintain this transcendent state for the rest of the day, undergoing his daily life methodically without acknowledging Wei Ying at all. Sometimes he will even go so far as to leave their room and not return for what feels like an eternity.
Despite the lacklustre response Wei Ying doesn’t give up.
Fortunately, as a physical therapist in training Lan Zhan is interning as an assistant for the track team's Head Physical Therapist, Nie Mingjue. He can often be found on the outskirts of the running track during training or busily gliding through the halls of the medical wing of the athletics facilities whenever Wei Ying stops by to complain about his sore muscles and update Nie Mingjue on Nie Huaisang’s degrading study efforts.
In exchange for selling out Nie Huaisang, Nie Mingjue assists Wei Ying's friendship goals by making him a guinea pig while he teaches Lan Zhan, ordering Lan Zhan to practice helping Wei Ying through his stretches, showing him the correct ways to apply heating pads and compressions, and making him answer Wei Ying’s endless questions on pain relief. Even though Lan Zhan tries his best to maintain a professional demeanor the entire time, Wei Ying knows that he’s steadily cracking through Lan Zhan’s facade of indifference, noting down every minuscule frown and barely audible huff when he acts especially shameless in order to draw out a reaction.
Operation ‘Become Lan Zhan’s Best Friend Forever’ comes to a head when Wei Ying accidentally pulls his quad.
His left leg thrums with radiating pain from where it’s propped up on a stiff cushion as Nie Mingjue looks over Wei Ying’s x-rays, holding them up to the ceiling light and frowning.
Wei Ying really hopes that’s a normal frown and not a Say Goodbye to Your Olympic Career frown.
Nie Mingjue finally comes to stand by Wei Ying’s side at the examination table, pinning the x-rays to a clipboard with Wei Ying’s medical chart. He stares down at Wei Ying with narrowed eyes and states gruffly, “You’ve been overexerting yourself.” It’s not a question.
“Chifeng-Zun please have mercy,” Wei Ying begs with his most charming smile, using the cool title the track team had bestowed upon the physical therapist out of an even amount of respect and fear, “I need to practice at least thirty hours a week to keep my scholarship.”
“I don’t remember your scholarship contract saying anything like that,” Nie Mingjue says with the same confident certainty he lives his life by.
Wei Ying pouts and grumbles, “That contract is meant to be private.”
Nie Mingjue doesn’t bother explaining that being best friends with Lan Xichen, the future chairman of Gusu University, means he has access to a lot of things he shouldn’t. Instead he hands Wei Ying the x-rays and points at the gray transparent smudge that is meant to be Wei Ying’s inner thigh. “This is a grade three sprain, so just following the R.I.C.E principles won’t cut it. You’re going to need intensive rehabilitation.”
Most professional athletes know the R.I.C.E principles of Rest, Ice, Compression, and Elevation. The same principles that have been the bread and butter for the recovery of the minor leg injuries Wei Ying has had up to this moment. If they aren’t enough for this injury it means he’ll be out for more than the normal two weeks.
Wei Ying swears and then yelps when Nie Mingjue snatches back the clipboard so he can swat the back of Wei Ying’s head with it.
“No swearing,” Nie Mingjue orders, uncaring about his terrible bedside manner and Wei Ying’s complaints. “I want you to spend a week practicing R.I.C.E before you go into more intensive physical therapy. I can’t give you a definite date for recovery, but I’m putting it down to at least six weeks.”
“But the Asian Grand Prix is in three weeks!” Wei Ying shouts even though he knows there is really nothing Nie Mingjue can do. “If I don’t compete in enough big races I will lose my scholarship.”
“You can’t rush recovery - not unless you’re planning on permanently messing up your leg. You’re just going to have to accept that you have to sit out a few competitions,” Nie MIngjue says with brutal honesty. But he isn’t completely heartless as he adds, “I’ll talk with Lan Xichen about your scholarship. This injury isn’t completely your fault, Wen Zhuliu has been pushing you too hard lately. I will be having a one on one talk with him as well.”
The growl in his voice makes Wei Ying wince. “Ah, there’s no need for that! Coach Wen is just trying to help me reach my full potential,” he says, sounding out the same words that he constantly repeats in his head whenever he works himself to exhaustion trying to beat his own records while under Wen Zhuliu’s judgemental stare.
“Uh-huh,” Nie Mingjue grunts in disbelief. “I don’t care how helpful he’s trying to be. He’s not allowed within shouting distance of you until I give the okay. I’m going to do everything to ensure that this sprain has no lasting effects, even if you decide to be a self-sacrificial idiot.”
The determination in his voice is enough for Wei Ying to deflate into the crinkly plastic sheet on the examination table. He can’t believe that after only a month under his care Nie Mingjue knows him so well.
Although, Wei Ying has a feeling that Nie Huaisang has been traitorously telling his older brother about a few of the antics Wei Ying got up to while they were at Lan Academy together.
“Okay,” Wei Ying sighs, staring down at his injured thigh, which has swollen quite a bit in size from underneath the stark white medical bandages since Wei Ying was first heaved up onto the examination bed.
He looks up when Nie Mingjue pats his shoulder with his broad hand. “Cheer up, I’m going to assign Wangji to monitor you to make sure you’re following my recovery plan.”
Wei Ying perks up and then grimaces when the sudden movement accidentally causes a sharp tugging sensation in his leg. But it’s not enough to dampen his enthusiasm as he asks, “Really!? You’re going to make Lan Zhan my personal live-in nurse? Does that mean I can order him around and he has to listen to me without running away?”
Nie Mingjue squeezes Wei Ying’s shoulder in warning, his eyes flickering from Wei Ying’s beaming smile to the door of the examination room and back again. “Calm down. Don’t take advantage of him, he witnessed you go down hard on the track so he’s pretty traumatised. I’m sure that even if I don’t assign you under his care he’d undertake the duty regardless.”
Despite feeling skeptical Wei Ying doesn’t argue.
.
Wei Ying should trust Nie Mingjue more when it comes to assessing Lan Zhan, since it turned out he was right about Lan Zhan dedicating himself to Wei Ying’s recovery.
Lan Zhan immediately goes to Wei Ying’s side the moment Nie Mingjue lets him into the examination room, scanning Wei Ying up and down for any additional injuries that might have occurred in the half-hour he was out of eyesight.
Enjoying the attention, Wei Ying rubs at the back of his head where Nie Mingjue hit him with his clipboard.
Lan Zhan’s eyes narrow at the gesture.
Before Wei Ying can pretend to have a concussion, Nie Mingjue clears his throat and raises an unamused eyebrow at Wei Ying as though he can read his thoughts. When he gives the physical therapist an innocent smile in return, Nie Mingjue snorts and then starts to list out the steps of Wei Ying’s recovery program in excruciating detail.
Lan Zhan’s unwavering gaze turns to Nie Mingjue, never faltering under the barrage of information and looking as though he is committing everything to memory.
On the other hand, Wei Ying zones out a little as the painkillers start to kick in, making the world around him a little blurry and distant as though he’s watching everything through a fuzzy television screen. If it’s important he’ll ask Lan Zhan about it later.
His brain clears a little once Lan Zhan walks him out to the carpark, the bright sunshine and brisk autumn air bringing him back down to earth.
Wei Ying finds himself being steered directly towards Lan Zhan’s white Toyota Prius, all of his whining about being forbidden from riding his scooter going ignored.
“Not until you heal,” Lan Zhan says as he walks closely by Wei Ying’s side instead of the normal one and a half metres away, as though he’s worried Wei Ying is incompetent enough to trip over his own crutches.
“I can’t just leave my baby here, what if she’s stolen?”
“I will arrange for it to be brought to our accommodation.”
He’s distracted enough by Lan Zhan's mention of ‘our’ that he starts tilting dangerously.
Lan Zhan’s hands shoot out to press against his waist, keeping him upright and not even questioning if Wei Ying is purposely messing around.
Maybe he really is worried like Nie Mingjue said.
Wei Ying tries not to outwardly show his excitement at the realisation of just how much potential his injury has in helping him get closer to Lan Zhan as he jokes, “Hey Lan Zhan, if I get tired will you give me a piggyback ride?”
Lan Zhan doesn’t even pause as he answers, “That position would exacerbate your sprain.”
Wei Ying throws his head back with laughter. Still riddled with giggles, he asks, “Does that mean you would be willing to carry me in another position that won’t damage my quad?”
“Hm,” Lan Zhan hums in non-answer as he opens the car door and indicates for Wei Ying to hold onto the door frame for support as he takes Wei Ying’s crutches and leans them against the back car door.
“What a gentleman,” Wei Ying titters, barely managing to keep his balance as he fakes swooning.
“Careful,” Lan Zhan warns, placing his palm flat over Wei Ying’s lower back as he manoeuvers him into the passenger seat.
A little tongue-tied from the unexpected touch, Wei Ying doesn’t reply as he obediently follows Lan Zhan’s prompting to get himself seated and secured with the seatbelt.
His silence is quickly abandoned once Lan Zhan begins the half-hour journey to their apartment. As they enter the congested lunch-time traffic, Wei Ying pulls out his phone and opens WeChat. He takes a picture of his tightly wrapped thigh and sends it to his group chat with the caption ‘I lived bitches.’
Giggling at the sudden flood of text notifications, Wei Ying begins giving Lan Zhan commentary on most of the replies.
“It hasn't even been an hour and somehow Nie Huaisang already knew,” Wei Ying huffs as he reads Nie Huaisang’s expressions of sympathy in the form of dozens of crying and praying emojis. “I’m pretty sure he’s meant to be in a tutorial right now too.”
Unbothered by Lan Zhan’s lack of reply, he reads Wen Qing’s long ranting message about Wei Ying’s carelessness out loud, using his best imitation of Wen Qing’s voice when she’s especially frustrated by Wei Ying’s antics. He doesn’t mention the single private text she also sends about ringing once she’s finished her shift at the hospital.
“You better be prepared for Wen Qing to stop by our room a lot more. She’s definitely going to want to practice her medical skills on me.”
“She is a neurologist,” Lan Zhan states dryly, the corner of his mouth pinching.
“Oh, so you do listen when I talk about my friends,” Wei Ying says with a bright grin. “She’ll probably give an excuse that she’s interested in podiatry or something. Anyway, from my experience her bedside manner is even worse than Teacher Nie’s, so don’t listen to any of her slanderous claims that I’m a terrible patient. If she’s too mean I’ll tell Jiejie that her girlfriend is bullying her poor invalid brother.”
He watches as Lan Zhan’s shoulders lose a bit of tenseness, probably relieved that there is someone else in the world to shoulder part of the burden of taking care of Wei Ying.
Despite his improved mood he’s still pedantic enough to correct Wei Ying, “Podiatry is the study of feet.”
“Yeah, okay,” Wei Ying mumbles his acknowledgment of Lan Zhan’s medical expertise without much interest, instead reading over Jiang Cheng’s reply, which holds the same note of frustration as Wen Qing’s. His insults are riddled with concern, becoming even more threatening when Wei Ying refuses to answer his calls, texting back that he’s in the car with Lan Zhan. He does send a selfie of himself doing the finger hearts in compensation, along with the assurance that his handsome face wasn’t damaged in the incident.
Wei Ying pouts when he gets a flood of memes of comically disgusted faces in reply.
“Lan Zhan, Jiang Cheng is so mean!” He whines.
His frown transforms back into a smile when Wen Ning texts appear amongst Jiang Cheng’s slander, offering his sincere gratefulness that Wei Ying is okay and commenting on how pale he is, which Wei Ying decides to take as a compliment. “Friendship ended with Jiang Cheng. Now Wen Ning is my best friend,” he declares at the same time he texts these words to his group chat, ignoring the thumbs-up emoji from Wen Qing and Jiang Cheng’s ‘Good. Die then.’
When he looks back over to Lan Zhan he’s once again wearing a frigid expression, his knuckles flexing and white from how tightly he is clutching the steering wheel.
Wei Ying sighs at Lan Zhan’s random mood swing. He doesn’t even know what he did to make him mad this time.
Trying to lighten up the suddenly tense atmosphere, Wei Ying reads a few of Jiang Yanli’s messages, which are as sweet as usual. When Wei Ying informs her that Lan Zhan is his designated full-time carer for his recovery process she instantly sends him back her congratulations and a request for Lan Zhan’s WeChat contact.
“Hey Lan Zhan, if I give Jiang Yanli your WeChat do you promise not to abandon me in favour of becoming her best friend?”
Just as he finishes asking, Lan Zhan pulls into his designated parking spot underneath their accommodation complex, turns off the car, and stares at Wei Ying with a searching expression for a few long seconds. Apparently not finding any sign of trickery in Wei Ying’s grinning face he hands over his unlocked phone. Then, without saying anything, he gets out of the car to walk over to Wei Ying’s side and opens up the back door to grab his crutches.
By the time Lan Zhan is opening the passenger door, Wei Ying has sent the QR code for Lan Zhan’s WeChat and received a response from Jiang Yanli promising that she won’t steal Lan Zhan away from him.
Once they’re settled in their room Lan Zhan immediately makes Wei Ying sit up on his bed and elevate his leg. When he’s sure Wei Ying isn’t going to suddenly get up and try to run a marathon he heads over to their tiny kitchen and begins to rummage around in the freezer, pulling out Wei Ying’s least battered cold pack.
Grabbing a dish towel, he wraps the pack as he walks back to Wei Ying’s bedside and carefully lays it flat over the top of Wei Ying’s thigh, making him shiver at the sudden temperature change.
Wei Ying repositions the cold pack a little bit higher as he shuffles forward to lie down, beaming up at Lan Zhan once he’s comfortable. “Thanks Lan Zhan!”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan nods and turns to his bed to begin unpacking his backpack, which is filled with a couple leg compresses, piles of hot and cold packs, and Wei Ying’s anti-inflammatory and pain medication, all of which Nie Mingjue bestowed upon Lan Zhan before they left the athletics centre.
Feeling a bit useless and drained now that the shock and painkillers are wearing off, Wei Ying mumbles with more sincerity than he meant to reveal, “Lan Zhan you’re really too good. You don’t have to try so hard, I promise to tell Teacher Nie that you did a perfect job even if you abandon me.”
Lan Zhan turns around to scowl at Wei Ying, looking highly offended at the very idea. “I will never abandon you,” he says in an immovable tone.
Just to be sure, Wei Ying asks in a hushed voice still full of an embarrassing amount of vulnerability, “Promise?”
Without breaking eye contact Lan Zhan nods. “Promise.”
.
Over the next few days Wei Ying tests just how far he can push Lan Zhan’s professionalism as he pesters him to fetch food, complete his share of the chores, and keep him company while he makes notes for the recordings of lectures he misses. The entire time Lan Zhan doesn’t complain, his only sign of protest to the more outlandish requests is to give Wei Ying a deadpan stare before completing the task with a general air of disapproval.
Lan Zhan’s dutiful behaviour also extends to Nie Mingjue’s recovery plan. He keeps track of how long Wei Ying has worn his compression, buys him a cushion specially made to elevate his leg, tracks his pain medication, and changes cold presses the moment they start to become warm. At the slightest hint that Wei Ying is going to move his left leg wrong, Lan Zhan will suddenly appear out of nowhere and stop him in his tracks, his hands guiding him back into a non strenuous position while wearing a reproachful expression.
The sheer level of monitoring almost feels like he’s on the Ministry of State Security’s most wanted.
It’s all incredibly nostalgic.
Wei Ying remembers that back at Lan Academy Lan Zhan always seemed to have a sixth sense for knowing when Wei Ying was up to no good, which was just about always according to the three-thousand rules of the Academy.
Lan Zhan’s attention is a heady thing. To know that someone as intense and perfect as Lan Zhan is watching him so closely, even if it’s out of spite or because of an assignment, is addicting. Every time his gaze pricks at the back of Wei Ying’s scalp it makes him want to squirm from the overwhelming need to provoke Lan Zhan into coming closer, to do anything that will ensure Lan Zhan will never look away again.
It’s a strong reminder of why Wei Ying was so obsessed with becoming friends with Lan Zhan back when they were fifteen.
Needless to say, he’s not ashamed to take advantage of his injury.
However, when it comes to the more important part of his recovery Wei Ying finds himself reluctant to bother Lan Zhan.
Pain isn’t something Wei Ying is unfamiliar with; he’s had his share of injuries during his athletic career and the few schoolyard fights he’s participated in. But usually he’s more careful with his body, always taking the time to do his stretches and mostly sticking to the dietary plans he’s assigned.
He’s only ever been hurt to this extent once, when he was first adopted by the Jiangs and broke his leg while trying to show Jiang Cheng how to climb a tree. But that was so long ago that he’s forgotten just how mind consuming this type of injury can be.
The pain is a nagging thing that he can’t ignore. Like the ticking hand of a clock, his leg pulses in a painful rhythm that shoots through skin and muscle down to his bones. The beat is only temporarily disrupted by medication or cold compresses. There is little else he can do with Nie Mingjue who was still reluctant to begin intensive PT.
It’s therefore inevitable that his normal lackadaisical sleeping pattern is thoroughly disturbed.
After five days of restlessness Wei Ying isn’t surprised to wake up in the middle of the night with clenched teeth and Lan Zhan looming over him.
Never the sort to scare easily, Wei Ying doesn’t scream or yell, merely blinking up at the dark outline of Lan Zhan as he forcibly relaxes his jaw despite the pain spasming up his spine. The question on the tip of his tongue is swallowed by an especially harsh jolt of pain as the final numbness of sleep wears off.
Trying to play off his discomfort, Wei Ying smiles widely at Lan Zhan while subtly shifting his aching leg from underneath the crocheted blanket Wen Ning made him. “Lan Zhan? What’s wrong?” He asks as casually as possible, his voice sounding far too loud in the quiet room. “Did you have a nightmare about me and wanted to check if I’m alright? Don’t worry, I haven’t fallen into an eternal sleep and need my true love’s kiss to wake up.”
If Lan Zhan reacts to his teasing, Wei Ying can’t tell under the heavy darkness that shadows Lan Zhan’s face.
“You’re in pain,” Lan Zhan states, stepping closer. As he moves a tendril of moonlight shining through the curtains streaks across his face as though he is being scanned.
It’s enough to show Wei Ying the stubborn pinch in Lan Zhan’s brow, a sure sign that Wei Ying is in trouble.
“It’s fine,” Wei Ying says, waving his hand in dismissal despite being sure Lan Zhan can’t see it. “You can go back to bed, I’m fine,” he repeats, hoping that his assurances will be enough to brush aside whatever has made Lan Zhan mad.
“Do not lie.”
The familiar scolding words make Wei Ying sigh and grumble, “I’m not. It’s not that bad, and even if it was there’s really nothing you can do, I can’t take my pain meds for another few hours and a cold patch will keep me awake. Don’t worry about me okay, go back to sleep. I’ll be fine.”
“Do not hide your pain from me,” Lan Zhan rumbles, his silhouette deadly still.
“I’m not!” Wei Ying objects and then winces when the involuntary tightening of his muscles makes his leg pulse angrily. Trying to keep his voice level, he continues, “I can deal with it. You shouldn’t sacrifice your own sleep just because I’m feeling a little uncomfortable.”
“It is my job,” Lan Zhan argues back stubbornly, his hand reaching out through the darkness to gently cup Wei Ying’s knee with surprising accuracy, as though guided by magnetic energy. “Wei Ying must not hide his pain from me. Please rate your pain.”
Still feeling guilty over disturbing Lan Zhan with his weakness, Wei Ying shakes his head. “Nothing-”
Lan Zhan interrupts by growling in warning, “Wei Ying.” Even at the obvious sign of anger his hand on Wei Ying’s knee never tightens.
A bit surprised that Lan Zhan is showing so much emotion over this, Wei Ying says with forced levity, “So pushy. How about we make a deal? I will give you updates on my pain whenever you want if you admit you like me.”
The room goes startlingly quiet as Wei Ying waits for Lan Zhan’s reply.
When the silence stretches out for too long Wei Ying impatiently adds, “Come one, admit we’re friends. Or if you’re too shy just agree to hang out with me on campus while I walk to class and when I’m with my friends. Isn’t being a good therapist all about building up trust with your client? I’ll trust you more with my wellbeing if you agree.”
“I am a physical therapist, not a psychologist,” Lan Zhan corrects in a mild tone, rudely ignoring everything else Wei Ying said.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying huffs and starts to wiggle his way into an upright position despite his aching leg.
“Stop,” Lan Zhan quickly says, placing his hand flat over Wei Ying’s chest so he stays lying down, “Do not disturb your injury further.”
“Only if you agree to my terms!” Wei Ying fires back, struggling against Lan Zhan’s surprisingly strong hold. It’s actually a little fun to test himself against Lan Zhan’s strength as he positions his hands flat on the bed either side of his waist and tries to push himself upright again.
“Behave,” Lan Zhan orders.
“Never!” Wei Ying flails even harder.
The hand pressing against his chest curls into a fist around Wei Ying’s thin pyjama top.
“Fine.”
At Lan Zhan’s ground out concession, Wei Ying lets his body go limp, a triumphant grin spreading across his face.
“I knew you couldn’t resist my offer! It’s a win-win after all, I will give you complete transparency and you get to be my friend. You’re a very lucky man Lan Zhan. Plus socialising with my friends will be good for you. I know how much fun you have bullying me with Wen Qing when she visits.”
Lan Zhan’s voice is stern when he demands, “You will be honest.”
Wei Ying pouts at the lack of trust. “Of course! As long as you uphold your side of the agreement. I can even get Jiang Cheng to draw up a contract, with penalties and stuff if I lie or you decide to be antisocial.”
“Unnecessary,” Lan Zhan says blandly, his hand lifting from Wei Ying’s chest to guide down over his thigh, “I will not go back on my word.”
As if Wei Ying had any doubt, Lan Zhan is far too noble to ever break an agreement. “I go back to classes tomorrow so I expect you to walk with me to musical theory! No avoiding me like you normally do. And you have to sit with me without complaining.”
“I never complain,” Lan Zhan objects quietly as he leans over to the head of Wei Ying’s bed to grope around for his lamp's light switch.
“Not with words,” Wei Ying teases and then hisses when with a click the room fills with light. He squints at Lan Zhan as his vision painfully adjusts to the change. “Ow. Warn me next time.”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan hums nonchalant. His pale face is shaded a warm yellow from the light as he looks down at Wei Ying with assessing eyes and states with the grace of a professional and not someone who’s been coerced into friendship, “Rate your pain from one to ten.”
“Five? Maybe a six? It’s not too bad, but I don’t think I can sleep anytime soon if it doesn’t stop.”
Lan Zhan nods. “What do you need?”
The question is far too open ended and if Wei Ying were in better health he would tell Lan Zhan to kiss it better, but as a reward to Lan Zhan for being so cooperative he answers seriously, “It feels pretty tight, could you help me stretch it out a little?”
“Not too much,” Lan Zhan warns, which is as good as agreement.
Under the dim glow of the lamplight that halos around them it feels strangely intimate as Lan Zhan removes Wei Ying’s blankets and compression, positioning his hands at the bottom of his quad muscle, just above the underside of his knee.
The warmth of his hands against Wei Ying’s bare skin causes a thrill of excitement to go through him. Perhaps it’s the knowledge that, despite his profession, Lan Zhan dislikes touching people and yet he is still willing to do this for Wei Ying outside of work.
As Lan Zhan’s fingers climb higher, prodding gently at tender spots as he goes, Wei Ying is reminded of the fact he’s only wearing his old threadbare running shorts and a thin t-shirt, leaving him especially exposed for Lan Zhan’s wandering hands.
Wei Ying gives a quiet scoff at his wandering thoughts. His state of dress hardly matters since they’re both men.
“Alright?” Lan Zhan asks, probably curious about what Wei Ying is huffing about.
Instead of trying to explain his brief stint of nervousness, Wei Ying comments randomly, “Your hands are bigger than Teacher Nie’s.”
Lan Zhan’s hands tighten slightly, making Wei Ying grunt. Immediately the hold is loosened and Lan Zhan kneads at the area as if in apology for the roughness. The slight burning sensation that releases through his veins at the treatment is euphoric.
“It’s alright, you can be as rough as you need. It feels nice,” Wei Ying murmurs, his eyes going heavy lidded as Lan Zhan rubs away his pain.
Despite the similar sized hands, Lan Zhan and Nie Mingjue are quite different in their massaging techniques. Nie Mingjue is surprisingly gentle despite his tough demeanor, often lulling Wei Ying to sleep as he wears away at his knotted muscles like lapping ocean waves eroding stone.
Alternatively, Lan Zhan is all about precision, locating the problem area and efficiently working away at it with steadfast determination until the muscle becomes malleable to his healing hands. His methods can be quite brutal, leaving behind bruises and sore muscles long after the warmth of his touch has faded away.
It’s unsurprising that almost all the athletics students prefer Nie Mingjue’s patient touch compared to Lan Zhan.
But not Wei Ying.
Something about the way he sits on the edge of simmering pleasure and pain when Lan Zhan is massaging him is far more enjoyable than napping for the entire session. It’s almost the same type of adrenaline he gets when running marathons, his muscles burning, stomach clenching tight, and heart pounding in his chest as he pushes himself to his limit.
To show his appreciation Wei Ying doesn’t hold back the sounds that are pulled from his throat - moans, grunts, and sighs filling in the quiet spaces of the room.
Fuelled by these sounds Lan Zhan’s movements get meaner, bending Wei Ying’s leg close to his chest until sweat beads on his forehead.
“A-Ah! Gentle, gentle! Please Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying pants but doesn’t fight back. Instead he does his best to relax and lean into Lan Zhan, trusting that he knows Wei Ying’s limits better than he knows himself. “Mnh, ahh-”
Unable to bear it any longer, Lan Zhan shouts, “Quiet!”
Wei Ying’s pained moan is cut off with a laugh. A little breathlessly he says, “I thought you told me to be honest with my pain. Make up your min-Nn, aah, don’t-” he chokes on the rest of his words as Lan Zhan’s fingers skirt along his inner thigh and then dig in mercilessly at the clenched muscle.
Fear finally makes its way inside Wei Ying’s heart as he notices just how far up his pants have ridden, now bunched up tight around his ass and groin, which has grown into half-mast while he wasn’t paying attention, the warmth of relieved pain blending seamlessly with the heat of arousal.
Feeling like their friendship isn’t close enough just yet for Lan Zhan to see his erection, Wei Ying tries to wiggle away, the first sign of honest resistance since starting the massage.
Not having any of it, Lan Zhan uses one of his hands to grip at the bony edge of his hip to pin him in place. “Be still.”
“Um, I’m all good now. You can let go,” Wei Ying says quickly.
The stark difference in his tone from his earlier theatrics instantly makes Lan Zhan comply, relinquishing his hold over Wei Ying and putting a bit of distance between them.
A bit bereft at the sudden loss, Wei Ying lies silent and still for a moment, adapting to the rush of cool night air pricking along his heated bare skin.
“Cold pack?” Lan Zhan asks, already halfway to the fridge.
By the time Wei Ying has gathered his wits to reply Lan Zhan is back with a cold pack, holding it out like a cat gifting a dead mouse to its reluctant owner.
“Maybe for a bit,” Wei Ying mumbles, not having the heart to refuse. He takes it gingerly and places it underneath his thigh with a hiss. “Just until I’m ready to go back to sleep.”
“Mn.”
Seeing Lan Zhan not moving from his sentinel position, Wei Ying says, “Thanks for helping Lan Zhan, you can go back to bed.”
As he watches Lan Zhan shuffle back over to his side of the room he adds, “You know, this probably isn’t going to be a one time thing, until I’m healed I’m going to be pretty restless. You don’t need to sacrifice your impeccable sleeping routine for me...”
“No trouble,” Lan Zhan assures him as he lays down, his soft voice easily carrying over to Wei Ying.
“Promise you won’t get mad...” Before Lan Zhan can answer he continues with a deceptively light tone, “You did seem to enjoy pushing me down tonight. How about as a sign of friendship if I annoy you too much I’ll let you restrain me?”
“Wei Ying!”
Thrilled at the reprimand Wei Ying says with great relish, “Just what are you thinking about Lan Zhan? I was trying to be practical. Who knew you had such a dirty mind.”
The sound of shifting bedsheets hits Wei Ying as Lan Zhan pushes himself out of bed.
Before Wei Ying can prepare for a beating, Lan Zhan swiftly strides over to the door.
Sitting up, Wei Ying shouts after him, “Wait! Where are you going? It’s three in the morning!”
Barely pausing, Lan Zhan doesn’t turn around as he rumbles out, “Bathroom,” and closes the door with a click of finality behind him.
Blinking dazedly, Wei Ying slowly lies back down and turns off his light, unsure about whether he can count this as a victory or not. As he waits for Lan Zhan to return his thoughts grow sluggish, slowly washing away by exhaustion tinged with pain and unfulfilled arousal.
He is long asleep by the time Lan Zhan returns.
.
They are half way to their shared musical theory course the next day when Wei Ying begins to feel a telling tightness in his leg that lets him know he needs to have a rest.
Reluctant to say anything since he was so needy last night, Wei Ying doesn’t even pause as he continues trying to convince Lan Zhan to book a musical study room so they can practice together after class in the hopes he can teach Lan Zhan modern pop songs.
“I don’t know them,” Lan Zhan intones as they cut across a field towards the music building.
Wei Ying almost trips over himself as he turns to shout in Lan Zhan’s ear, “Beyonce! You don’t know Beyonce!? I’m sure I’ve sung Yoncé at you before - you know,” he smoothly switches to lyrical english, “‘Yoncé all on his mouth like liquor’.”
Lan Zhan frowns as if pondering ancient poetry, “What is a Yoncé ?”
Taking a moment to admire Lan Zhan’s flawless pronunciation, Wei Ying replies, “She’s Ms Carter,” and comes to a stop so he can open up YouTube on his phone to find the music video.
“YouTube,” Lan Zhan says with a haughty tone.
“Oh I get it now,” Wei Ying says not looking up from his phone, “You have the musical inclination of an ancient buddhist monk because you don’t have a VPN.”
Ignoring Wei Ying’s taunt, Lan Zhan cups his elbow as he begins to sway while trying to balance on his crutches and type at the same time. “Sit down.”
Not giving Wei Ying any chance to protest he skilfully steals Wei Ying’s crutches from under his arms and replaces them with his hands, practically picking Wei Ying up like an unruly toddler before situating him with his legs outstretched on the grassy ground.
“Huh? Why? I’m almost done,” Wei Ying protests weakly.
“Rest,” Lan Zhan says, moving to sit across from Wei Ying and bringing his injured leg carefully into his lap.
Of course Lan Zhan managed to notice Wei Ying’s flagging energy despite his best efforts. The other man is far too perceptive.
Docile, he continues playing with his phone, secretly watching as Lan Zhan takes off his backpack, reaching inside to pull out a box of cooling patches. Putting them to the side he reaches forward to start rolling down Wei Ying’s leg compression.
As his fingers brush along the downy leg hairs along the top of the compress Wei Ying makes a short noise.
Concerned, Lan Zhan asks, “Hurts?”
“Ah, no,” Wei Ying huffs a laugh and shakes his head once, “Your hands are just a little cold.”
“Hm.” Lan Zhan draws his hands close to his mouth and breathes deeply onto them, rubbing them together to gather warmth. His eyes briefly flicker up to meet Wei Ying’s before he’s once again reaching to pull the compress down just past Wei Ying’s knee, placing a cooling pad on the swollen area when he’s given no protest.
“Better?”
“Yeah, thanks,” Wei Ying says assuringly, feeling a bit lightheaded over how thoughtful and gentle Lan Zhan is acting.
Is this really what it’s like to be friends with Lan Zhan?
Not completely satisfied with his duty of care, Lan Zhan pulls out tiger balm from within the depths of his bag, coating his hands generously before he begins to glide the heel of his hand up from Wei Ying’s knee along the sides of the cold pack.
As casually as possible, Wei Ying slips his phone onto his pocket and places his hands in his lap, worried that his body is going to repeat the reaction from last night.
Looking for a distraction, he brings up a topic that has been plaguing him since he found out Lan Zhan’s major. “Hey Lan Zhan, why do you want to be a physical therapist when you don’t like touching people?”
Lan Zhan stops massaging to look up in surprise, stating, “You remember?”
Scoffing, Wei Ying waves his hand as if clearing away an annoying fly, “Of course I do, don’t sound so shocked! After all, you would try to run me through every time I invaded your personal space when we were in middle school together.”
“Nevertheless, you persisted.”
“I was helping you! Kind of like exposure therapy, I mean, look at the results,” he says, gesturing at Lan Zhan’s hands still pressed against his thigh.
Lan Zhan makes a short jerking motion as though he wishes to pull away before slowly restarting to move his palms in vertical strokes, pretending the moment of hesitation never happened. As he works over Wei Ying’s leg he answers his earlier question, “My family wishes for me to become a doctor.”
“Okay. That’s pretty stereotypical of them,” Wei Ying comments carelessly. “But why physical therapy? It’s only been a few years since physical therapy became widely accepted as part of Chinese medical theology. I thought your family would be all about traditional methods like acupuncture and ancient medicines.” They did give Lan Zhan a courtesy name after all, and nothing can possibly be more traditional than that.
“You are well informed.”
Wei Ying preens at the rare compliment. “Of course I am, it concerns you. Plus if you weren’t so set on avoiding me you’d know that I’m a genius.”
“Hm,” Lan Zhan hums vaguely, neither showing agreement nor disagreement to Wei Ying’s boasting.
When he doesn’t add anything else, Wei Ying prods a little deeper, “So, if you could do any job other than physical therapist what would you do?”
Lan Zhan’s gaze is distant as he lightly traces along the corner of the cold pack, as though he’s forgotten the reason why he was touching Wei Ying in the first place. When he finally looks up he says shortly in a barren tone, “Unimportant.”
“Don’t say that! I think it’s very important,” Wei Ying protests. “How about I go first? If I could have any job I’d be a crazy inventor, with explosions and electricity and a creepy butler, like the guy who created Frankenstein!”
Lan Zhan blinks, silent for a long moment and then corrects, “You are referring to Doctor Frankenstien, his creation had no name.”
“How do you know about Frankenstein and not Beyonce?” Wei Ying deadpans. “Have you actually watched any modern Western movies?”
“It’s a classic novel, not a film,” Lan Zhan’s short answer coincides with his thumbs digging right underneath either side of Wei Ying’s hamstring. “I have watched ‘The Princess Bride’.”
“Ow!” Wei Ying yelps, grabbing onto Lan Zhan’s shoulders and squeezing hard, not really hearing the last bit of his answer, “Lan Zhan! Be gentle, I’ll stop teasing! A-ah!”
Lan Zhan’s hands go slack, and perhaps in apology he whispers, “Music teacher.”
Still a little distracted by Lan Zhan’s brutal methods and the subsequent spike of arousal, Wei Ying grunts, “Huh?”
Generously Lan Zhan expands on his words, “I would become a music teacher.”
Wei Ying’s imagination instantly latches onto the image of Lan Zhan staring down at a swarm of children with a scary blank face, never flinching as clumsy fingers and sheer innocent enthusiasm at making a loud noise creates an unholy cacophony of sound.
The sheer joy that the idea brings him makes Wei Ying break out into laughter.
Misunderstanding, Lan Zhan removes Wei Ying’s leg from his lap and begins to stand up.
Worried that he’s running away, Wei Ying latches onto the fabric at the bottom of Lan Zhan’s cardigan, involuntarily exposing a bit of Lan Zhan’s shockingly toned stomach. The fact that Lan Zhan has an eight-pack is temporarily put to the side so he can quickly assure him, “Wait, I wasn’t laughing at you.”
At Lan Zhan’s dubious look, Wei Ying rephases, “Ah, I mean, I was laughing at the idea of you surrounded by children playing terrible music. You’d be a great teacher. You’re so patient, I bet you’d never yell at them no matter how bad they sound. It’s cute,” he adds, not even at least a little bit ashamed to call an apparently secret bodybuilder ‘cute’.
Thankfully, it’s enough to make the harsh line of Lan Zhan’s shoulders fall back into their normal proud state. He reaches down to help Wei Ying up, once again miraculously taking the majority of Wei Ying’s body weight.
This time Wei Ying uses the opportunity to grab at Lan Zhan’s biceps to see if he really is strong all over.
When his groping gets him a narrowed eyed look, Wei Ying merely smiles innocently and rambles, “You know, maybe once my running career is over and if the crazy inventor idea falls though I wouldn’t mind becoming a science teacher, as long as I’m at the same school as my friend Lan Zhan.”
Even if that school is highly likely to be Lan Academy.
Although, as a teacher not as many of the Academy’s rules would apply to him and it would be hilarious to work at the same place he was expelled; just imagining Lan Qiran’s pained face when Wei Ying is hired makes him take his thoughtless words more seriously.
Wei Ying positions his crutches underneath his arms and starts to hop back on course towards their class while Lan Zhan keeps pace by his side. As they walk he expands on the idea, suddenly determined to convince Lan Zhan to also imagine all the benefits of working together as teachers, “We could eat lunch together every day, and gang up against the other teacher in PTA meetings, and mark each other’s homework, and gossip about our favourite students.”
“It is immoral to discriminate between students,” Lan Zhan says, and despite the rebuke his mouth softens from its normal stiff line.
His indulgence is enough to make Wei Ying’s already good mood reach a new peak, his smile starting to hurt from how wide it is.
Feeling as if he’s flying as he allows his crutches to carry him over in an arch before his good leg hits the grass with a soft wumph, Wei Ying chirps with confidence, “Ah, but in the end none of the students can win against me - your favourite person in the whole world!”
.
Their plans for a jamming session after class are cut short when Wen Qing messages Wei Ying to join her and their other friends for a picnic on the nearby humanities courtyard grounds.
Determined to get the most out of his friendship deal with Lan Zhan and to see his friends while so many of them are free, Wei Ying instantly steers them towards the location Wen Qing sent, complaining that he needs another rest amongst nature to help balance his yang qi for healing.
Not calling Wei Ying out on his bullshit, Lan Zhan lets himself be forced into socialising with an aura of an old god who has undergone countless heavenly tribulations and is now numb to all of life’s trials.
Wei Ying is overjoyed to note that Lan Zhan can be just as dramatic as him in his own special way.
They end up locating the group underneath a large oak tree, a few metres away from the bend of the thin river that weaves throughout Gusu University’s vast grounds. The hollering that goes up once Wei Ying and Lan Zhan are spotted can be heard from the other side of the courtyard.
“Wangji, it's good to see you,” Wen Qing greets as they settle onto the checkered red blanket that is piled with containers of rich smelling food. Judging by the quality and variety, it was all made by Jiang Yanli.
“Where’s Jiejie?” Asks Wei Ying over the top of Lan Zhan’s returned greeting.
“Don’t interrupt,” Wen Qing snaps at the same time Jiang Cheng grunts through a mouthful of ricecake, “Work.”
“Aww,” Wei Ying groans as if he’s taken a blow to his heart.
“Are we not good enough for you?” Nie Huaisang says from his corner of the blanket, his eyes briefly flickering nervously to Lan Zhan, showing a healthy sense of caution left over from their middle school days.
"No," Wei Ying says sweetly as he snaps a set of wooden chopsticks apart. When he sees Lan Zhan pull his own pair of ivory chopsticks from his bag Wei Ying corrects, “Except Lan Zhan of course.”
“Of course?” “Of course.” Wen Ning and Wen Qing chorus with vastly different inflections.
Alternatively, Jiang Cheng elbows Wei Ying in the side so hard he makes a small oof sound and almost falls into Lan Zhan’s lap.
“Hey!” Wei Ying shouts, using Lan Zhan’s thigh to stabilise himself. The muscle under his hand is so stiff that Wei Ying can’t help but comment, “Hey Lan Zhan it feels like I’m not the only one who could use a massage. You should relax a little.” He finished off by trying out the kneading technique that Lan Zhan uses.
Wei Ying’s attempt is put to a stop when Lan Zhan pinches his wrist and moves it away before dropping it limply into his lap like a claw machine at the arcade. The ‘personal space’ is strongly implied with every action.
“It wasn’t my idea to invite you,” Jiang Cheng mutters and tilts his head towards Wen Qing, picking up the conversation as if the strange interaction in front of him never happened.
Wei Ying turns to find Wen Qing eating with gusto, her bowl pulled in close to her mouth so she can shovel in quick dainty bites one after the other.
It's not the first time Wei Ying has witnessed such a display, especially since Wen Qing officially started working full-time at the hospital. If he didn’t know better he would think the hospital is starving the slim woman - not that Jiang Yanli would ever allow a loved one to go hungry.
Nie Huaisang is frozen at the sight, not so used to the image. “I’ve never seen someone eat so much while remaining elegant. It’s almost like Qing-Jie was royalty in a past life.”
Wei Ying nods sagely in agreement. “Absolutely. She even bosses me around like an Empress. I wouldn’t be surprised if she is the reincarnation of a starving Empress who came into power by overthrowing a corrupt Emperor who caused a famine.”
“If she bosses you around so much are you the corrupt Emperor or one of her Eunuchs?” Jiang Cheng muses.
Wen Qing snorts in an unlady-like fashion and makes a show of swallowing her mouthful of food and dabbing at her mouth with a napkin, all the while maintaining eye contact with Wei Ying. “You’ve been watching too many historical dramas. I’m a doctor, not a revolutionary.”
“What if Wen Ning was being threatened by higher-ups?” Nie Huaisang asks with all the interest of a man starved for gossip.
“Hmm... “ Wen Qing ponders, her face going hard and chilling, “I guess exceptions can be made.”
Wen Ning’s mumbled “Jiejie…” Is lost underneath the laughter of his friends.
In comfort Wei Ying reaches over to softly slap Wen Ning’s knee. “It’s alright, just think of all the benefits you’ll get with Wen Qing as Empress, you could be General Secretary!”
“I’m happy w-with being a nurse,” Wen Ning says, smiling weakly. “Um, is your leg alright? If you w-want I can massage it for you.”
It’s only because Wen Ning is the nicest person ever that Wei Ying doesn’t call him out for the unsubtle subject change. “No need,” he says, leaning sideways to bump into Lan Zhan’s hunched shoulder, “Lan Zhan is the perfect physical therapist, he’s been spoiling me rotten by giving me free massages whenever I want.”
Proving Wei Ying isn’t merely boasting, Lan Zhan places a few squared pieces of watermelon and orange into Wei Ying’s bowl, murmuring, “Vitamin C for inflammation.”
“Aaah, Lan Er-gege, my arms are tired. Feed me,” Wei Ying demands coyly, opening his mouth wide and fluttering his eyelashes to show he’s ready for the offering.
“Every day my respect for Lan Wangji grows for not murdering this idiot,” Wen Qing muses.
Jiang Cheng’s face screws up as though he’s being force fed dog food. “I wish he would.”
By his side Nie Huaisang looks like he wants to take out his drawing pad and immortalise the scene in ink.
Wen Ning interrupts out of fear that Lan Zhan will finally act on some long repressed anger, “Wei-xiong, b-be nice. If you need help I can…” He trails off when Lan Zhan suddenly shoves the biggest piece of watermelon into Wei Ying’s mouth, making him sputter and cough.
When he recovers he says with the gusto of a man who doesn’t know the meaning of fear, “Lan Zhan you just used your chopsticks to feed me, it’s almost like we had an involuntary kiss.”
Lan Zhan goes deadly still.
“Does he resent his life for being too long?” Nie Huaisang rhetorically questions with wide eyes.
“Ignore that fool,” Wen Qing intervenes, sick of watching Wei Ying dig his own grave. “A-Li told me that she made the pickled cabbage especially for you as a thank-you for putting up with Wei Ying.” She picks up the container and holds it out to Lan Zhan, who takes the peace offering after wiping his chopsticks clean with a pure white handkerchief.
“I will send her my thanks,” he says, scooping the food into his bowl. As he eats, Wen Qing skilfully draws him and Wen Ning into a conversation over Wei Ying’s recovery, gradually evolving into such complex medical terminology that Wei Ying loses interest.
Seeing that Wei Ying is zoning out, Nie Huaisang takes the opportunity to update him on his latest woes.
“I don’t know how Da-ge does it but he always seems to know when I haven’t been studying for my major,” Nie Huaisang whines, wringing his hands nervously. “It’s not my fault he wanted me to do poli-science! I’m right brained! Anything that involves science is impossible for me to understand.”
Giving nothing away, Wei Ying’s cheeks bulge with watermelon as he slurs through the mouthful, “I dunno. Maybe he’s omnipresent.”
Nie Huaisang blanches, as if all the things he’s done that would earn him a beating from his elder brother have come into the forefront of his mind. “Gods I hope not.”
“Maybe someone you’re close to has been feeding him information,” Jiang Cheng says, side-eyeing Wei Ying.
“Funny how you should mention that Jiang Cheng,” Wei Ying muses, “Didn’t you visit Teacher Nie a few days ago.”
“I was getting advice on working out!”
“Ah-ha,” Wei Ying drawls dubiously. Before Jiang Cheng can use his lawyer skills to try and turn Nie Huaisang against him he says, “Anyway, I need you to draw up a contract for me.”
It says a lot that Jiang Cheng doesn’t ask why, instead demanding, “What type?”
“A friendship one. Lan Zhan and I agreed that if I’m honest about my injury he’ll be my friend.”
“You bribed him into tolerating you,” Nie Huaisang says in awe, clapping once in congratulations.
Pissed off, Jiang Cheng objects, “I’m a double major, I don’t have time for your childish whims.”
“But it’s important!” As much as he trusts Lan Zhan it’s better to get his promise in writing, just in case. “Lan Zhan, you agree right?” Wei Ying asks, tugging at Lan Zhan’s sleeve until he pays attention.
Lan Zhan looks from Wei Ying’s pleading eyes and then to Jiang Cheng’s furrowed eyebrows. He nods once, “Mn.”
Wei Ying beams at him.
Deadpan, Jiang Cheng asks, “Did you even hear what he said? You shouldn’t just agree to whatever he says.”
Contrarily, Lan Zhan simply says, “Yes.”
“Fine,” Jiang Cheng huffs, rolling his eyes, “Your loss. I just hope you know my time isn’t free.”
“Haha!” Wei Ying crows, leaning in close to Lan Zhan, “It’s legal now! You won’t be able to run away or else I’ll get Jiang Cheng to sue the entire Lan Clan. After lunch we have to go to the campus art shop so I can buy some supplies to make our friendship bracelets!”
Lan Zhan blinks down at Wei Ying and hums his agreement.
Quietly, Jiang Cheng mutters under his breath, “Maybe I should write up a prenup instead.”
His words go completely ignored.