Chapter Text
At the burst of morning light one gloomy autumn day, Wei Ying decides to mindlessly follow his heart and is led into a quaint restaurant in the middle of nowhere.
If Wei Ying had even a modicum of self-preservation, he would not risk going outside, especially with a feeble excuse of a hoodie and a mask that doesn't serve to make him unrecognisable, but he doesn't, so here he is: standing with an arm extended on the wooden handle, cold to touch but somehow warm to feel, his mask pulled down, his mind whirling at a kilometre a second. In all honesty, he needs to see Wen Qing lest she turn the entire city upside down looking for him, and before someone figures out who he is. He cannot risk them calling the journalists, but something inexplicable about the restaurant halts him in his tracks and calls his name, pulling him in.
It's inexplicable because really, the restaurant looks too immaculate, too neat and orderly, too 'pale shades of blue and white' to suit his usual fine-dining experience with a boho and rustic aesthetic and yet, it manages to pull off the almost clinical look with the inescapable, immaculate homely atmosphere. The fresh smell of tea and freshly steamed buns greets Wei Ying the minute he steps in. The silent growl his stomach lets out at the smell makes him realise how hungry he is.
Only one person is working behind the counter at this hour — his hair is in a neat, tight bun, focusing entirely on the task before him. He looks up as soon as the chime signals Wei Ying's presence. The person wears a white chef's outfit with blue lining, his eyes glint almost golden in the warm morning light pouring through the tall windows of the restaurant. He has a gorgeous face; his skin is dewy, his long eyelashes framing his face almost delicately — a contrast from the sharp edges of his cheekbones and jaw. Their eyes meet, remain glued to each other for a moment that lasts an eternity and a beat longer; Wei Ying is stunned in his spot, unable to move, helpless to do anything but gaze at the person behind the counter, feeling like a poor replica of the functioning person he's supposed to be.
Wei Ying wants to look away, afraid that he might seem like a creep staring at the pretty man behind the counter, but he is a weak, weak bisexual, standing in front of a man who looks otherworldly, ethereal. Ridiculously, this held gaze makes Wei Ying feel like he is on the precipice of something life-changing. Something tells him that his life is never going to be the same, ever again.
The moment ends a beat too soon; Wei Ying's mind stops whirring, and he takes a huge breath, stepping forward with a wide grin that he knows works best with everyone — even those whose beauty is immeasurable and appear almost closed off.
"Hi," Wei Ying drawls, coming to a stop near the counter. "I would like to see your menu, please."
The person's eyes narrow fractionally, intently gazing into Wei Ying's, otherwise not deigning him with a response.
Wei Ying taps his fingers on the counter with a cant of impatience, smiling broader than before — he is hungry and, he would like to eat as soon as possible because he knows that Wen Qing would be ringing his phone any minute, but at the same time, he is willing to wait for as long as it would take this person.
The person doesn't move; if anything, his gaze gets more focused, as though he knows— oh. Of course. No wonder his infamous grin did not work on him. The smile drains from his face.
"Look, I know what you must be wondering, 'what even is Wei Ying doing here, in the middle of nowhere, especially now, when he should not be seen anywhere in public and why is he here, in my restaurant, trying to be a nuisance'. And you're right, I absolutely should not be here, but I can assure you that I will not be a nuisance here, just for you. Unless, of course, you want me to be one," Wei Ying says with a wink, inclining himself completely over the counter.
The person does not bodily respond, choosing to slowly blink as though he is letting Wei Ying's words wash over him. Taking this as an indication to continue, Wei Ying says, "So, alright. I need to eat. I haven't eaten since... well since last evening. I promise that I will sit in that corner and eat like a dutiful person that I definitely am — not the person that you've probably heard about last night and today morning — and get out of your hair as soon as possible. So, just give me the menu and I will be on my merry way, I promise."
Wei Ying holds his three fingers up, a scout promise, that is dismantled as soon as the man moves the counter. Thinking that he is about to call the police, or worse, the journalists, Wei Ying reaches over to grab his arm. The man flinches back in surprise, but Wei Ying's grip is tight.
"Look man, I see the problem here. You must have heard about me, right? Tell me, what do you need? If you're a fan, I can sign something for you, click a picture with you, so you can post after, well, after things die out a little. If you're not, I can sign the go-to coffee cups for you, huh? That way, you can make some money after things die out. My fans can and will hunt those limited edition mugs down and buy them at exorbitant prices, huh, how about that?"
The person huffs out in anger, shakes Wei Ying's hands off of his shoulders with disdain, and places the menu on the counter, the glare on his face only intensifying without a hint of recognition.
"Oh," Wei Ying says, his voice softening. He doesn't know me. He doesn't know me. He doesn't know me. Wei Ying cannot downplay the relief he feels upon realising this. "Thank you," he says, for more than one reason, grabbing the menu, but the person only succeeds in pulling it back.
"No," the person says, their voice deeper and smoother than expected, somehow entirely fitting. "The restaurant isn't open yet," he says — and it strikes Wei Ying that this is the first time that he is being spoken to but he files that away for later — pointing at the emboldened 9 am to 6 pm written on it, right under the name of the establishment. "I cannot serve you anything. It would be against the rules of the establishment."
"Oh," Wei Ying breathes out. "Oh, but isn't it 8:50 already?" Wei Ying asks, pointing at his watch for a millisecond. It is 8:35, but the person does not need to know that. "Wouldn't you break the rules for me? Just this once?"
The person raises his eyebrows — again, fractionally — as if he knows the time without looking.
"Oh, come on," Wei Ying is not above pleading. "I am starving. Be a darling and fix something up for this poor, starved actor, why don't you? I will give you those signatures as promised."
"Unnecessary," the man stiffly mutters. He shuts his eyes for a second, composing himself and then pushes the menu towards Wei Ying and asks in a manner that feels rehearsed, "What would you like to have?"
Wei Ying leans over the counter, folding his elbow and tilting his head in his palm. "Anything you like, gege."
The person's nose flares, his ears turning bright pink. He pushes the menu towards Wei Ying once more, stopping it a thread's distance away from his elbow. "Ridiculous," he hisses. "Choose," he says, pained.
Wei Ying brightly leans back, pushing the menu towards him, letting their fingers brush a little on the menu. "No, really! Surprise me! Anything you make would be so good, really, but just don't hold back on the spice, okay? And some coffee, please. I really need to use your washroom, so see you soon!" Wei Ying says, walking towards it before the pretty person behind the counter can get another word in.
Wei Ying closes the washroom door behind him when his phone blares out the awful tone he sets specifically for Wen Qing. He can ignore it, paving way for him to enjoy a warm breakfast at this restaurant he doesn't even remember the name of with the man who decidedly does not want him there and face Wen Qing's wrath twice-fold or he could pick up her call and leave right this instant to soften the impact of the wrath he would be facing regardless of the path he chooses.
"Qing-jie!"
"I am sending a car for you, wherever you are, right this instant."
"Qing-jie," Wei Ying hopes his pout is conveyed appropriately through his voice.
"You shouldn't be out, Wei Ying. You should either be with me or you should be with Wen Ning, of all people. Not by yourself; never by yourself. You shouldn't be using this phone as well. How would you know if you're being followed?"
Wei Ying wouldn't, is the thing. He knew it had been a stupid thing to do, but he couldn't imagine going back to his apartment, the four walls ready to stifle him at any given second. He wanted to simply exist in the liminal space between his house and Wen Qing's office, knowing full-well that the time would be limited and yet worth it.
"Qing-jie…"
"Do not Qing-jie me!" Wen Qing snaps. "Your phone has been off ever since last evening. You haven't been home, you haven't talked to us, Wei Ying. I finally caught hold of you and, you're pretending that everything is fine! So I am going to ask this again. Where are you?"
"I don't know," Wei Ying replies, petulantly. What was the purpose of having the friend-tracker on his phone if she wasn't going to use it? "Give me a moment. I'll find out—"
"How are you at The Jade Kitchen?" Wen Qing briskly asks. "I know that you're smart enough to not drive there, so the only other alternative is that you've walked. You walked for two hours, Wei Ying? Two?"
Two is a bit of an understatement — he has been out since last night, unwilling to go back to his apartment after what happened — but Wei Ying does not dare correct her.
"Qing-jie…"
"Wen Ning is on his way. He'll be there in ten minutes, he's sure."
"Ah, Qing-jie, I can just walk there —"
"No!" Wen Qing exclaims. "You're going to climb into his car, come to my office, and then we're going to talk, Wei Ying. Talk, and figure out a way out of this mess. Is that understood?"
"Yes," Wei Ying murmurs, leaning his head back against the bathroom door. Seems like he won't get to enjoy the pretty person's breakfast, then. Wei Ying dials down his disappointment.
When he exits the washroom after spending seven of his ten free minutes in it, the person, Lan Zhan, his name tag reads — he must've put it on when Wei Ying went inside — is setting up what seems to be a sandwich. An egg sandwich.
"Lan Zhan!" Wei Ying calls, delighted. "Wow, this is a surprise," he says, taking in the meticulously decorated sandwich and a cup of black coffee beside it.
"Mn. Fried egg sandwich," he says, the corner of his mouth tilting up. "It has been infused with chilli oil."
"Ah, Lan Zhan, how will I ever thank you," Wei Ying chuckles, a little awkward. There isn't really a good way to say that you can't digest the taste of egg after pestering someone to make food for you fifteen minutes before they were supposed to. "I, well. I should've mentioned it. This is my fault, really."
Lan Zhan's eyebrow minutely shifts in confusion.
Wei Ying clears his throat, pushes the plate towards Lan Zhan and picks up the coffee. "The food looks good. Great, actually! So appetising. Your food could almost compare to my sister's food, really, which is high praise, coming from me. But the thing is," Wei Ying takes a deep, dramatic breath, making himself look at the tiny scar near Lan Zhan's eyebrow. "I hate eggs! I hate them! I would much rather never eat anything, ever again. I'm sorry I forced you to make them!"
When Lan Zhan's eyes turn murderous, he hastens to add, "Ah, Lan Zhan, please don't kill me. I love the coffee," to prove so, he takes a huge, burning sip of the actually delicious coffee that tastes amazing even when it is hell-bent on scalding his entire mouth. "I love the coffee so much, Lan Zhan. So, so much. You're an amazing cook. I will definitely pay for the fried egg sandwich that looks so good and I'm sure it tastes even better. I would pack it up for my manager but she's trying to be vegan lately and I don't want to tempt her. You understand me, don't you?"
Lan Zhan does not answer, only fixing Wei Ying with his most intense stare yet. Fair enough, Wei Ying probably deserves it.
Wei Ying pushes a few extra notes along Lan Zhan's way. "I am sorry that I forced you to make my food," Wei Ying says.
Lan Zhan looks at the money on the counter, a tiny furrow between his eyebrows. "What do you suppose I do with the food?"
"Store it for your next customer? Eat it yourself? Ah, Lan Zhan. It's on me. I will be taking this coffee though, it is really good."
"What do you suppose I do with the extra money, then?"
"Think of it as monetary compensation for all the extra efforts you put in for me!"
Lan Zhan is about to say something when he hears the unmistakable car horn outside. Wei Ying winces, knowing that his doom is inevitable. Well, he supposes that he can't be invincible all the time. He reaches over to pat Lan Zhan on his forearm "Thank you for this, Lan Zhan," Wei Ying says and he is out of the quaint restaurant, almost crashing into another person on his way out before he can listen to what Lan Zhan might say.
A shame, really. He should've asked Lan Zhan for his WeChat or his number. He'd really like to meet Lan Zhan again under better circumstances, where he can appreciate him and his food better. A shame, really, to not have a definite day of meeting Lan Zhan again. Beautiful, glowing Lan Zhan. He turns back to see him, still standing in the same place Wei Ying had left him in, and winks, blowing a kiss. The last thing he sees before he is pulled inside the car by Wen Ning is the blurry image of Lan Zhan stiffening in surprise. This day was turning out to be better than he'd hoped.
***
Or, not.
Wen Qing looks at him with narrowed eyes, her hands crossed against her chest, communicating to Wei Ying that he better come clean or else she wouldn't hesitate to make a violent mess of him and force him to clean even that up.
"I already told you what happened," Wei Ying pleads.
"You told me that you didn't hit him," Wen Qing states.
"I did not," Wei Ying confirms. "What would I even get out of hitting Su She, Qing-jie?"
"You didn't hit Su She, but you hit his associates?"
"Associates?"
"The people on his security team," she says, pulling up their pictures. Wei Ying recognises them. They were certainly not his associates.
"Haven't seen or heard of them in my life," Wei Ying says.
Wen Qing narrows her eyes, leaning forward to hold his fingers. When Wei Ying realises what is about to happen, he tries to wrench his hand free, but Wen Qing has a steel grip.
"The bruises on your knuckles then," Wen Qing observes. "I am sure that these two instances are completely unrelated, huh?"
"Qing-jie," Wei Ying whines, managing to pull his hand free and cradling it close to his chest. "I am bruised, can't you see?"
"Tell me what happened last night, Wei Ying. That is the only way we can fix this, right?"
"I've already told you everything," Wei Ying says. "Su She fell, I tried helping him up, people thought I was beating him but I really wasn't, they clicked pictures of us in a manner that seemed like we were fighting, and now I am being demonised."
"You're not being demonised," Wen Ning says gently. "We can fix it if —"
"If I tell the truth?" Wei Ying asks, his jaw ticking. "How many times do I tell you that I am telling you everything there is to know about this."
Wen Ning looks slightly admonished, making Wei Ying feel worse than he did before.
"We can fix it if we know the extent of it," Wen Ning says, taking a seat beside him.
"So you don't trust me, do you?"
Wen Qing sighs in exasperation. "You and I both know that we trust you more than anyone," Wen Qing says. "You and I both know that you're not revealing the truth of the entire situation. And it is important to do so or else," Wen Qing pushes the tablet in Wei Ying's hands, a blurry CCTV footage from outside the bar. "Or else, it wouldn't be hard for Su She's agent to find it," Wen Qing says. "And they're vicious. They are threatening to rip you apart, with no fault of your own."
Wei Ying opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. What is he even supposed to say in his defence in front of this incriminating piece of evidence? On the tablet, Wei Ying and Su She stumble out of the bar together; Su She is seen putting a hand on Wei Ying's shoulder and Wei Ying jerks his hand off, turning to scream at him, enraged. Su She is seen shouting at him too, before Wei Ying steps forward, quite menacingly, he can tell, and Su She stumbles back in cowardice. Despite the pictures from inside the bar, if this footage is leaked, it might as well be the end for him. There is only one way to interpret this situation and Wei Ying does not want to think about it.
"Your impromptu interview does not help," Wen Qing states, swiping to get to a video of a frazzled Wei Ying mere twenty minutes ago at the parking lot as he waited for Wen Ning to park the car.
"A reporter accosted me! What was I supposed to say?"
In the video, the reporter surges forward, thrusting their microphone towards Wei Ying, still not covered — a drastic mistake on his part. He is glad that only three reporters were hiding in the shadows of the parking lot.
"Is it true that you physically assaulted Su She?" they ask, clamouring up in Wei Ying's space.
The camera does not catch Wen Ning and the security guards run towards the reporters from behind.
"No," Wei Ying replies. "Don't you know me at all? I would never do such a sloppy job. Trust me, if I was the perpetrator, I would have left him in a much worse state. He wouldn't have been able to talk, much less accuse me."
The video ends then, just as Wen Ning rescues him and the security guards work towards removing the reporters out of the building.
Wen Qing appears to take a deep breath, as though composing herself. "Did you have to say that?"
Wei Ying shrugs his shoulders. "Am I wrong?"
"It sounds like a threat!"
"It was."
Wen Qing sighs, leaning forward. "We've been through this a lot of times before, remember? We always follow the same protocol. This can get over as soon as it has started if you just tell me the extent of what has happened."
"I don't want to follow the protocol anymore," he says.
"What do you want to do then?"
"I did not hit him," Wei Ying says, at last.
Wen Qing hums in understanding. "But?"
"But nothing, Qing-jie!" Wei Ying exclaims, his heart picking up speed in his chest. Somehow sensing his discomfort, Wen Ning reaches out to tentatively place his hand on his back. Wei Ying takes a shuddering breath, relaxing under his touch. Wen Ning takes it upon himself to hold him tighter.
Wen Qing says nothing, simply picks her phone from the table. "Do you want me to involve your sister, then?"
Alarmed, Wei Ying jumps out of his chair to grab her phone. "You cannot involve A-jie, Wen Qing. You can't!" Wei Ying would have a stake piercing his heart faster than he would trouble his sister with his issues when she is on a solo trip after years of not taking a break for herself. Wei Ying knows that she'd never call her, but it's simply the mention of her name that makes Wei Ying realise the magnanimity of everything that he's hiding from practically everyone. It is a horrible weakness that Wen Qing knows about and does not hesitate to take advantage of. Wei Ying would love to tell his sister everything, but for a while, he wants to know if he can salvage this situation himself. If not for his sake, then for Su She's. "Don't tell A-jie, please," Wei Ying pleads. "This will die out in a while, I promise. Just that generic statement you released was more than enough, Qing-jie. There is nothing more to add to it. I will stay hidden and not talk to a single reporter until it dies out."
"You are not going to tell us, are you?" Wen Qing breathes, putting her phone aside.
"I've told you everything there is to tell."
"No, you haven't," Wen Qing insists, but Wei Ying can tell that she is relenting. She sighs, looks expectantly at Wei Ying again, and when Wei Ying doesn't budge, she takes out a piece of paper from her desk along with a spare phone.
"An acquaintance owes me a favour, so I'm going to be asking him to look for a place for you to stay. It will be a long, long way from your condo and I hope that no one tracks you there. Do not use your phone, but use this, just in case." She slides the phone and the paper across the table. "Give Wen Ning a list of all that you'd like from your house. Order something to eat, and then sleep. You look like you haven't slept in days, Wei Ying. Wen Ning will take you to your new apartment after I talk to the acquaintance, understood?"
"Understood," Wei Ying says, looking at his new phone number. A stone sits on his stomach. He's been in the midst of controversies before, but after the first few times, it's never affected him so badly before. Suddenly, he feels 18 again, hiding his face in his sister's arms as she strokes his head, only turning when his brother takes turns feeding him ice cream because that's the only thing he could fathom. This situation already seems bigger than him and it's only just started.
"No mischief," Wen Qing states. "You will not leave the house without covering your face. If the journalists find out where you are, it will be hell for everyone involved, do you understand?"
"Understood," Wei Ying murmurs. He needs just enough time to figure out what to do about Su She without jeopardising any of their careers. The faster that happens, the sooner it is fixed. The sooner he can return to his condo, back to his old life. He really is not looking forward to spending time in an unfamiliar apartment, away from the streets that know him.
A cursory glance at the results that pop up after typing Wei Ying on the search engine tells Lan Zhan everything he cares to know about the loud, expressive man who had stumbled into his restaurant way before it opened the door for business.
Wei Ying is an excellent, successful, revered actor, it seems, gaining fame and admiration from the young age of sixteen after starring as a supporting character in a period drama. He sings and dances and has even tried his hand at rapping; he is loved by everyone — fans, no matter the age, and brands, no matter the product. Wei Ying is brash and outspoken, he speaks against the blatant discrimination in the entertainment industry and is known to share anti-establishment sentiments. Just recently, he expressed support for the miners working under inhumane conditions and spoke out against the Jin Corp, creating ripples of awareness to the general public. Lan Zhan respects this; attending a silent protest with Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan just the week before on the same matter had been exhilarating and disheartening at the same time. He is well-known and well-loved for all the right reasons, up until last night when he became well-known and well-hated, overriding all his accomplishments.
Wei Ying, the news article says, had been witnessed 'mercilessly beating' one of his colleagues in a bar establishment. The witnesses, other patrons at the establishment, have come forward with elaborate accounts of how it happened. Apparently, Wei Ying does not fare well after drinking. There are articles upon articles of Wei Ying being openly criticised for being violent, his cheerful and friendly façade slipping off the minute cameras turn off, revealing an outright cruel and violent person that he is in real life.
Somehow, Lan Zhan finds it hard to reconcile the image of Wei Ying from this morning — exuberant and lively, even if he seemed a little tired around the edges — to the Wei Ying that is being talked about in the media. Wei Ying had been a little loud, perhaps, exuding more energy than Lan Zhan is used to, but had not seemed cruel.
Lan Zhan closes his eyes and sees Wei Ying's bright smile from just this morning.
This morning. Lan Zhan does not exactly sigh at the recall of what happened earlier in the day, but he does turn toward the fridge where the egg sandwich lies covered in plastic wrap, lamenting internally. He turns back to his phone, scrolling past more articles on Wei Ying, knowing full well that he wouldn't be able to explain his brother — should he glance above Lan Zhan's shoulder — why he wants to know more about him when he's only ever infuriated him in their fifteen minutes of acquaintance and an hour of saying, "No, I haven't seen Wei Ying come this way. No, he hasn't been here," to ten different reporters who came in moments after Wei Ying left.
Lan Huan, it seems, does not have to glance over Lan Zhan's shoulder to know what he is thinking about. He merely has to glance his way from the other side of the restaurant — while he is taking someone's order — with a smile that only appears gentle to most people, but Lan Zhan knows just how smug his brother is.
"Ge," Lan Zhan frowns when Lan Huan smiles in the same smug manner after passing the order to Lan Zhan.
"Not saying anything at all, A-Zhan," Lan Huan says, in the most infuriating manner ever.
Lan Zhan is about to turn to make the scallion oil noodles when his brother says, for the third time since he crashed into Wei Ying this morning, "It is just interesting how Wei Ying has caught your interest, that's all. I shouldn't be surprised, I suppose. Wei Ying is well-famed for good reasons."
"You do not believe that he has violently beaten up one of his colleagues, then?"
Lan Huan, who has always been a little too invested in celebrity gossip under the excuse of 'stress relief' despite their uncle exclusively prohibiting it, says with a hint of distaste, "I do not like Su She. He tries too hard and he is known to be extremely jealous of co-actors."
Lan Zhan merely looks at him, hoping to convey extreme disinterest. His brother had never bothered telling Lan Zhan about celebrity gossip till now, and Lan Zhan had never asked. Why start now?
"Don't give me that look, A-Zhan. You know how I feel about seditious remarks the press makes against celebrities without even letting the other person explain their side of things, especially after what happened with A-Jue."
Lan Zhan sighs in response. He remembers being fifteen and watching his brother's boyfriend crumble before them because allegedly, he drank and created a ruckus at whatever places he played, and allegedly, he was prone to violent outbursts, leaving no man standing. At 22, Nie Mingjue was one of the only independent metal artists who had reached the mainstream masses. His music had been heard by everyone, even their uncle who, despite finding it too brash for his usual classical Chinese music taste, was also witnessed humming it. Nie Mingjue had a pan-Asian tour booked, only to have false claims against him brought under the spotlight overnight. Those brazen claims caused him to lose what could've been an enriching career in music, and his first love, music, as a whole. Lan Huan tells him that he hasn't been able to pick up his guitar even after all these years.
"Not that I condone it or even believe it, but if Wei Ying punched Su She, he probably had it coming," Lan Huan continues with a smile.
"It does not particularly interest me," Lan Zhan says. "He does not. He ordered food and did not eat it. He was disrespectful to the food that was prepared. He asked me to prepare coffee, ge. We do not serve coffee. His presence brought a swarm of reporters to the restaurant."
"He paid for it as well," Lan Huan says, gently. "And we do make coffee for A-Sang and his friends. He doesn't sound so bad. Besides, you saw how relentless those reporters are. It is hardly Wei Ying's fault."
Lan Zhan does not deign his brother with a response, hoping to convey just how much he does not care with the look of utter boredom he sends his brother's way and turns around to finish the order, hoping to escape from his brother's knowing eyes and from any thoughts of Wei Ying's smile and Wei Ying's maroon hoodie that looked warm and the enrapturing red ribbon in Wei Ying's hair and Wei Ying's voice and —
Traitor. His mind was a traitor.
Lan Zhan only needed to focus entirely on work to escape the thoughts of Wei Ying.
***
Turns out, it is an impossibly hard task to escape Wei Ying.
He is everywhere that Lan Zhan goes. Quite literally.
There is a huge billboard with Wei Ying's face plastered right across from his restaurant, that he had never noticed before. On the billboard, Wei Ying is seen holding and wearing red lipstick, as he smirks at the camera in a black turtleneck. If Lan Zhan stumbles after sneaking another glance at Wei Ying in that form — an image of which will burn in his mind for a long, long time — no one pays him any notice. He just hopes he can make it home, without the events from this morning causing a disturbance in his set schedule.
Lan Zhan has a set schedule that he follows on a daily basis. It instils discipline and makes his day predictable to a large degree; he is not meant for spontaneity, no matter how appealing it sounds to others. His day begins at 5 and ends by 9. He does Yoga every morning, and if he has the extra time, he goes for a jog at the nearby park. On the days that he comes home from work, he tips his rabbit sitter, pets his rabbits for ten whole minutes, and once they doze off, he practices music and has a bath. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, he teaches piano to a group of children at the Yiling Kids' Home. On the other days such as today, Lan Zhan stays home, sometimes all by himself, silent enough for it to be stifling after a point, and on the exceptionally good ones, with his brother and his husband or Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan.
Lan Zhan reaches home at his pre-destined 4:30 pm, stashes the egg sandwich in his fridge, tips his rabbit sitter, and sits placidly with his half-asleep rabbits in his lap.
"For a day that started with unimaginable chaos," he tells his Peony and Gentian, "it seems as though it will end just as quietly as it always does."
In retrospect, he should not have spoken so soon.
Halfway through his shower, Lan Zhan's phone rings; a swift glance at it from behind his shower curtain, indicates that it is Nie Mingjue calling from his office number, confirming Lan Zhan's suspicions that the call isn't important at all. He had called him before as well when Lan Zhan was in the middle of his guqin practice. Lan Zhan does not think much of it and lets his phone ring until it stops, figuring that Nie Mingjue can wait, come whatever may.
It is when he is tying the towel around his waist that he hears it.
The unmistakable rattle of his front door and the thud of the door shutting close.
It is impossible for Lan Zhan to have not shut the door, nor is it possible for anyone to have entered his house without informing him beforehand. The only plausible explanation is someone finding the means to break in.
With his heart plummeting, he grabs the most lethal object he can find — cuticle trimmers in his case — and his phone. He extends his hand wrapped around his fingers protectively in front of him, moving forward at a threateningly slow, stealthy pace, just so he can catch the probable thief off-guard.
When Lan Zhan reaches his living room, he is faced with someone wearing an all-too-familiar figure hunched over his fridge in a maroon hoodie, wearing the extra house slippers reserved only for guests. Before Lan Zhan can react, can even say, "Stop," in a manner that is known to be threatening among his peers, his phone blares out the standard ringtone, making them jump together. The person turns towards him in a twirl, an awkward chuckle in tow.
The cuticle trimmers in Lan Zhan's hand clatter onto the floor when he sees Wei Ying — Wei Ying, looking at Lan Zhan the same way he had before — in person. He can only mindlessly look at Wei Ying's bright smile morphing into astonishment, as he stares at Lan Zhan, eyes widened and lips parted.
As if on autopilot, Lan Zhan picks up the call, muttering a small greeting, and reacting with nothing verbal when Nie Mingjue says, "I was calling to inform you that another person will be living with you for a while. A-Sang was telling me about how you'd been looking for a roommate lately, and I owe this friend of mine a favour, so it made sense for me to give him the keys to your house. He might already be there. You're going to be okay, right?"
Lan Zhan does not remember telling Nie Huaisang that he is looking for a roommate. The lack of response — mostly because Lan Zhan has been trying to find words to convey just how angry he feels at the fact that Nie Mingjue did not tell him sooner — prompts Nie Mingjue to say, "Lan Zhan, I know that you prefer solitude, so tell me if you're not comfortable with it, okay? Let him stay over for tonight, though. You may not know him, but he's kind of a big deal in the industry and I've been told that he's a good kid, being incriminated for something he didn't do."
"He is here. And I do," Lan Zhan finds himself saying, still looking at Wei Ying, whose face emanates something akin to trepidation. He bites his lips and looks surprised when Lan Zhan says that.
"You do… what?"
"I know him," Lan Zhan says. "We've… met before."
"Ah! So you're friends already!" Nie Mingjue says, letting out a hearty chuckle. Friends is a bit of a big stretch, but Lan Zhan does not correct him. Lan Zhan does not think he can speak to him without the unimaginable anger clouding his words. The kind of anger he hasn't felt since he was eight. "Regardless, if you're not comfortable, tell me and I can set up another apartment for him, okay? Have a good evening. I'll ask your brother to call you when he returns from work."
The call ends, and Lan Zhan does not — can not — look away from Wei Ying. Wei Ying seems to be in a similar state, staring right into Lan Zhan's soul, before his eyes wander down for a split second. A mortifying realisation dawns on Lan Zhan. He is half-naked in front of his roommate, he discerns. He is greeting his roommate in nothing but a towel. He is greeting Wei Ying in nothing but a towel. Shame burns through him. He spurs into action, walking incredibly speedily to his room and pulling on his silk pyjama set that he had laid out earlier that evening.
"Surprise! We're roommates!" Wei Ying exclaims, fake cheerful after Lan Zhan emerges from his room, freshly dressed. "Ah, Lan Zhan. I did not follow you home. I swear I didn't know that you lived here. I thought that my roommate would be out, which is why I did not knock. Or ring the doorbell. Or basically, follow any etiquette. Sorry, I just did not think that it'd be you."
Lan Zhan does not know how to respond to that, the implication being that he would even infer that Wei Ying would stalk him and his apparent dissatisfaction at who his roommate is, so he remains silent, letting Wei Ying fill in the gap.
"I hope you don't mind me staying here, Lan Zhan. Although I haven't shared an apartment with anyone in over seven years, I am an excellent roommate! My mess will be confined to my room only, not the common space. And I will, of course, help you take care of your rabbits. They're so cute, by the way! What's their name? Don't look at me like that, Lan Zhan, it's okay, I don't have to know their names to love them! Anyway, I'll be the best roommate ever and you won't have any complaints, whatsoever. Just — you look like someone who has house rules, don't you? Just tell me all about them and I'll promise to follow. If you still feel uncomfortable with me here, I won't mind and will move out as soon as possible. Promise!"
Wei Ying holds three of his fingers up, the same scout salute that he'd done in the morning, and Lan Zhan is caught between offering reassurance and stomping his feet, demanding to be alone again.
"Peony and Gentian," Lan Zhan says instead.
"Eh?"
"The rabbits," Lan Zhan explains. "The white one with the brown spots is Peony. The black one is Gentian."
"Oh."
"Mn. I have a rabbit sitter coming in every day that I work, so you don't need to take care of them."
"Oh, but I'd love to, Lan Zhan! I know what you're thinking, Lan Zhan! And you're right! I don't have a lot of experience in taking care of rabbits. Eating them on the other hand…"
At Lan Zhan's horrified expression, Wei Ying's laughter quietens and he hastens to add, "It's a joke, Lan Zhan! A joke! Don't worry! I don't think I'll be able to eat rabbits anymore. Not that I did before," Wei Ying nervously throws the rabbit pen a glance in haste. "And I lied, I do have some experience with rabbits. Don't you know that I was a rabbit in the 'Infamous life of the Immortal Rabbit'?" Lan Zhan feels less horrified but no less confused. "Anyway, what I mean is, I am a fast learner. Just tell me what to do and I will do so in the time that you're away, alright? I told you, I am going to be the best housemate you've ever had. You will have no complaints by the end of it."
The only other housemate that Lan Zhan has ever had is his own brother, and he doubts that anyone can take that position from him.
"We shall see," Lan Zhan says, picking the cuticle trimmers from the ground and walking towards Wei Ying, who stands against the refrigerator, even though he already plans on introducing Peony and Gentian to Wei Ying.
Wei Ying's eyes widen when Lan Zhan comes closer. "You will!" he says, brightly. "But you're okay with me staying here? I really won't take much space, I promise!"
"We shall see," Lan Zhan repeats. He does not want to be presumptuous.
Wei Ying picks at his sleeve. "You read the news," he states. "Aren't you afraid that I'll reveal my violent tendencies towards you? That I'll beat you up too?"
Lan Zhan takes a good look at Wei Ying — he looks more exhausted than he did in the morning, despite the purple under his eyes fading colour. He looks rumpled in his large hoodie, his hair now in a loose braid. Mostly, Wei Ying appears to be in utmost need of a hearty, warm meal and a good night's rest. He looks nothing like the violent picture those news articles have painted about him.
Lan Zhan knows that a person's violent tendencies are not rooted in how they look — even those who look the softest can be violent and malicious on the inside — but this is Wei Ying. Beautiful, bewitching Wei Ying. Something in his gut forces him to trust him.
"I am not," Lan Zhan replies, swiftly walking past him. "Have you eaten?"
As if the conversation never happened, Wei Ying clamours up to him.
"Are you making dinner, Lan Zhan? What are you planning on making? Can I help?"
"No," Lan Zhan answers briskly, taking out the barely used bottle of chilli oil from behind his cabinet. He does not like cooking with others, no matter how well he knows them. "You can go settle yourself in any of the two unoccupied rooms on that side of the apartment," Lan Zhan says, pointing in the other direction. "The last door on the right is mine. The first room that you will come across has a few instruments and some rabbit toys, but we can move them if you prefer that room."
"Wow, Lan Zhan, you play? That's so cool. I will take the other room then, don't worry about it. We'll eat together after I settle in?"
"Mn."
"This is so exciting, Lan Zhan! I am so excited. I cannot wait to get to know you more and eat dinner with you every single night until I have to move out. We're going to be best friends, I can tell."
"Unnecessary," Lan Zhan answers. His lack of emotional expressivity is as predisposed as it is a choice; it serves well to build an invisible wall around him, barring entry to almost everyone he encounters. He does not need any more friends, he tells himself, he has enough. Besides, Lan Zhan does not see the purpose of being friends, especially when Wei Ying would move out of his apartment as soon as things become better for him.
However, it seems like the wrong thing to say because something shutters on Wei Ying's face.
Wei Ying does not let that deter him, though. He smiles even widely, even though it looks a little self-deprecating to Lan Zhan. "I will make my stay fun for us. I will be the best housemate ever! I can guarantee that."
If Lan Zhan had not been taught that scoffing was an undignified response, he would've scoffed out loud. "We shall see," Lan Zhan repeats. He doesn't want to give Wei Ying the benefit of the doubt, no matter how easy his radiant smile makes it for him.