Wangji is not tormented with nightmares like his brother is. If he dreamt, then it would be memories that faded as soon as he woke. Too many times, he dreamt of a face that was unclear, a figure he tried to reach out for but slipped away between his fingers. Too many times, he called out for Wei Ying and he never responded. Never even looked in his direction.

Now that Wei Ying is back, the face is clear—but that is all. He still does not look at Wangji. He does not smile; he does not acknowledge him or listen when Wangji calls for his name. His face is blank and he is as distant as ever. Wangji will never reach him.

It takes him back to a day he wishes he can forget. The bloodbath of the Nightless City used to torture him every night after Wei Ying died. He blamed himself that he could not reach the Yiling Patriarch in time, or even stop his beloved sister from dying. As endless years passed, the details blurred but the feeling did not. The ache in his heart is still there, as strong as it was the day he stood before Wei Ying with his fingers trembling on his guqin. Wei Ying had laughed with an unmistakable manic in his crimson eyes. He looked at Wangji as if he hated him. Perhaps he did hate him. Wangji gave him plenty of reason to.

I knew since the start that we’d have to fight a real fight like this one sooner or later. You’ve always found me disagreeable no matter what.

When Wangji tried to save him, Wei Ying only thought he came to harm. Even as Wangji pushed and shoved everyone out of the way to stop him from losing control, it was too late. Wangji did not try hard enough. He saw the pain in Wei Ying's eyes and struggled to decide what to do. Too late.

It is the same, even now. In his dreams, he sees Wei Ying in the distance, staring at something Wangji cannot see. Again, he will not even acknowledge Wangji is there. No matter how much Wangji tries to reach him, he is too far.

He wants to reach him. He wants to be there for him this time, but Wangji does not even know where to begin. He does not know what hurts Wei Ying, let alone how he can help him. He is useless, as always, and he fears he will lose him for the second time.

Wangji is not tormented with nightmares like his brother is, but he is tormented by his thoughts. They are emotions he will never say out loud, words he will keep inside until his heart rams against its cage and continues to ache as it has been for the past two thousand years. When Wangji sleeps, he does not get nightmares. He gets reality; that he was useless, that he continues to be useless. The nights are long and he wakes with a sickening dread that he will never change and he will fail Wei Ying all over again.

Morning comes. The sun's drunken rays spill through his curtains and Wangji's body is automatic in getting dressed. He moves without thinking, refusing to acknowledge the dreams that circled his mind all evening. He hears Sizhui's alarm blaring in the room next to his, followed by the sound of the teenager getting up.

Today is a new day. As with every morning, Wangji pushes the past to the back of his mind and focuses on the day ahead. He wonders if he will see Wei Ying, if they will talk like old times. Along with the yearning to see him, Wangji, as usual, hopes for a miracle that today will bring about a change. Maybe today will be the day he takes a step closer to Wei Ying.

Today is a new day, and Lan Wangji remains a foolish man in love.

 

- x -

 

The week is almost over and there are no improvements whatsoever with Jin Ling. If anything, things have gotten worse. Jin Ling makes it very obvious he'd rather jump off a cliff than treat Wei Ying with any semblance of respect. The most he'll voluntary interact with him is when he grunts for attendance. Other times, he will either tell the teacher to piss off or he'll just stomp away like the mature brat he clearly is.

That's not even what Wei Ying is concerned about. Jin Ling can hiss at him all he wants. Wei Ying doesn't give a shit. It's the other students he's concerned about. The more Jin Ling shows his attitude, the worse the rumours get. Wei Ying is starting to get a headache with all this talk that Jin Ling is a stuck up rich kid with no manners, that he was kicked out his old school because he was no good and only caused trouble—and that didn't even compare to the other rumours about his parents not wanting anything to do with him.

High school continues to be the bane of Wei Ying's existence, but he refuses to stand here and do nothing about Jin Ling's experience with it.

After lunch, he finds Lan Sizhui as he's about to leave.

“Sizhui, a word before you go?” Wei Ying calls.

The teenager looks up. He zips his bag close and walks over to Wei Ying's desk with that polite smile always plastered on his face. Why can't every kid be like Sizhui? Being a teacher will be ten times easier.

“Yes, Teacher Wei?”

Wei Ying spares a glance around the class. Thankfully, Jin Ling has already stomped off for his next class.

“Have you been speaking with Jin Ling?”

The look on Sizhui's face already gives him an answer. Sizhui scratches the back of his neck, his smile now looking more strained.

“Ah... Jingyi and I've been trying. I don't think he wants to talk though.”

Wei Ying sighs. No surprise there at all but it's still so frustrating. If his Jiejie was still around then she would—

No, shut up. Wei Ying shoves aside that stupid thought before he starts diving into the reasons as to why she's not around.

“I wonder if it's too much to ask that you continue to try and make him comfortable here?” Wei Ying asks. “I know he can be a pain but I think it'll be nice if he had friends like you and Jingyi.”

Without missing a beat, Sizhui nods. “Of course not, Teacher Wei. I'll keep on trying.”

Wei Ying smiles and resists the urge to ruffle Sizhui's hair. Teachers shouldn't really have favourites but Wei Ying will secretly admit Sizhui is his favourite student, even if he only started school about a month ago.

“Thank you, Sizhui. I appreciate it.”

He lets Sizhui leave, praying to whatever god is up there that Jin Ling will stop being so difficult. It's obvious Wei Ying himself can't do anything, so maybe Sizhui and the power of miracles might actually get something to work.

For the rest of Friday afternoon, he worries a little bit less. At the very least, he's managed to survive a whole week of being Jin Ling's teacher. Hopefully next week will be better.

Just as school finishes and students flood out the building, Wei Ying hears shouts echoing from another room. At first, he thinks it's just a few students getting a bit too excited about the upcoming weekend, but then he hears a crash. He's rushing out of his seat in seconds.

It doesn't take him long to realise this isn't excitement for the finished week. Jin Ling is currently in a headlock with some student from another class, shouting a string of swear words that Wei Ying knows he learnt from Jiang Cheng. What is even more surprising is that Sizhui appears out of nowhere and shoves that student off, followed by Jingyi who punches them in the face with an over-enthusiastic yell.

They continue fighting, not at all noticing that Wei Ying is by the doorway.

“The little mistress can't even fight properly!” One of the students jeer. “What are you going to do? Cry to your mom?”

The students laugh. Jin Ling's fists clench. The next thing Wei Ying knows, Jin Ling is grabbing a chair and literally chucking it at that person's face.

Impressive, yes, but Wei Ying can't exactly let this go on.

“Hey, hey, hey!” He manages to haul the student out of the way in time. “What the hell's going on here?”

He lets go of the student and yanks Jin Ling by the collar, stopping him before he can throw another chair. Jin Ling screams and wriggles, almost like an angry cat. Doesn't help he hisses at Wei Ying too.

“Let go of me!”

Wei Ying shakes him. “Not if you're going to keep on causing trouble!”

Luckily, with him there, the rest of the students now stop, guilt on their faces. There isn't a lot of them to begin with; Jin Ling, Sizhui, Jingyi, and three other students whose names Wei Ying can't be bothered to remember.

Still, Wei Ying can't hide his surprise. “Sizhui, I expect this sort of behaviour from Jingyi, but not you.”

“Hey!” Jingyi pouts, folding his arms with a small huff.

“Quiet, you,” Wei Ying says, then turns to the other teens. “Don't think you lot are off the hook too. What's the point in picking on the new kid?”

“He started it—!”

Jin Ling struggles against Wei Ying again. “I didn't!”

“I don't care who started it! You're all giving me a headache! Detention after school for all of you!”

“What?” Jin Ling is trying his best to wriggle out of Wei Ying's hold. It's almost amusing. “It's after school now!”

“Yeah, which means you get detention now!”

“You can't do that!”

Wei Ying flicks him on the head. “Yeah, I can—and I'm doing it. All of you go to my class!”

“I'm not going! You can't make me!”

Sighing, Wei Ying grips the back of Jin Ling's collar tighter and literally drags him a step forward. “Fine, I'll drag you there myself then.”

It's safe to say Jin Ling is not happy with this, and neither is Wei Ying because, god, Jin Ling can scream down his ear. His eardrums may as well be bleeding by the time he manages to throw Jin Ling inside his class. By some miracle, Jin Ling stays in his seat, looking very much like a toddler having a tantrum with his arms folded and an exaggerated scowl fixed on his face.

Little brat, Wei Ying thinks. Even Jin Zixuan wasn't like this back then, most likely because Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng punched him before he could carry on acting like the arrogant ass he used to be. And it was justified because Jin Zixuan had the audacity to make their Jiejie cry. Completely justified.

Detention is slow. Wei Ying busies himself by using the school phone to call the students' parents, more to warn them their kids haven't been kidnapped on the way home rather than to get them into trouble. However, it does amuse him to hear Jingyi's grandfather ranting about him for a few minutes before grumbling to himself and hanging up. Jingyi gets detention almost every day; you'd think his grandfather would expect this by now.

He also calls Jin Zixuan, even though he remembers he will be back in Lanling by now, most likely preparing for his flight to America tomorrow.

Jin Zixuan sighs when Wei Ying tells him.

“It hasn't even been a week,” he says. “Thanks for telling me. I'll get Jiang Cheng to pick him up.”

Wei Ying is glad Jin Zixuan can't see him wincing over the phone.

Great. That means having to see Jiang Cheng later on.

He leaves Sizhui's dad for last. They haven't spoken since they had that coffee together although Wei Ying will sometimes see him picking up Sizhui after school. Part of him is tempted to say hi—but why should he? There's no way he's using that number Jingyi gave him so it's pointless getting friendly with Mr. Lan.

It takes a while for Mr. Lan to pick up the phone. Wei Ying wonders if he is having trouble trying to answer it like last time.

“Hello, Mr. Lan? It's Sizhui's teacher.” he says after it's finally answered.

For a second, there is silence. Wei Ying hopes it's not the wrong number.

“Yes?” Oh. It is him.

“I'm just calling to tell you your son has detention with me at the moment. He was caught fighting other students.”

“Hmm. I see.”

Is that it? Is that it? Wei Ying waits for him to say anything else but he doesn't.

“Yes...” Wei Ying awkwardly clears his throat. “If you're picking him up, please do it in an hour.”

“I will be there then.”

Wei Ying spends the rest of the hour marking homework he should have finished last night. At some point, he hears snoring coming from Jingyi's direction and sees Sizhui elbowing him in the corner of his eyes. Jingyi wakes up with a start, nearly falling off his chair.

“Idiot,” Jin Ling mumbles.

Jingyi crumples a piece of paper and lobs it at the back of Jin Ling's head. “Shut up!”

Wei Ying doesn't bother to tell them off. He is calm, focusing only on this pile of homework he needs to mark. The hour is almost over and then he can finally have some peace—

A ball of paper hits him right in the eye.

“All of you, shut up before I make you stay another hour!”

The teenagers freeze, sitting up straight in their seats. There is a chorus of Sorry, Teacher Wei before silence falls in the room once again.

Wei Ying lets out a deep breath and returns to his marking. Thankfully, the rest of the hour goes by much quicker and there's no more paper, or chairs, being thrown around.

One by one, the students are picked up by their parents. Wei Ying has to make sure to keep a straight face on when Jingyi's grandfather literally drags his grandson out of the classroom by his ear, lecturing him on how to be a proper gentleman. Jingyi's screams of horror are still heard even after he has left the room. Poor boy.

The last ones left are Jin Ling and Sizhui. Wei Ying can't sit still in his seat, nor can he focus on his marking now that he knows Jiang Cheng will be here any minute. He wishes he'll hurry up and get this over with.

His wish is granted soon enough. Jiang Cheng enters the class, still wearing his police uniform. As expected, Jin Ling scurries to his side and clings to his arm. Both of them look at Wei Ying as if he has just imprisoned Jin Ling in a tower for ten years.

“I should have known,” Jiang Cheng says.

Wei Ying won't let this get a reaction out of him. He flicks through the school books on his desk and keeps his voice even.

“Detention is detention. He was fighting other students.”

“They fought me first!” Jin Ling cries.

“As if you're in any position to punish him.”

Wei Ying stops flickering through the books. He doesn't look up but he knows exactly what Jiang Cheng means. His hand grips the page tighter and he slowly turns it. The words mean nothing to him. He knows Jiang Cheng is watching his every move, waiting for him to react.

“That's got nothing to do with this, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Ying says. It takes everything to keep his voice steady. “This is school.”

Jiang Cheng scoffs. “You shouldn't even be his teacher in the first place.”

Wei Ying is weak. His pride, however, is even weaker. He looks up, matching Jiang Cheng's glare with his own.

“I can't help that, can I? Jin Zixuan was the one who moved him here,” he says. “You can complain as much as you want but I'm just doing my job.”

The corner of Jiang Cheng's lips tug upwards into a mocking smile. It's the sort of thing that would have riled Wei Ying up years ago.

“Just doing your job? Aren't you suddenly being all responsible?”

Wei Ying looks away. Jiang Cheng is clearly looking for a fight, but he refuses to give him that satisfaction. Not here. Not now. Not anymore.

“There's nothing left to say. You can take Jin Ling now.”

No one leaves. Wei Ying keeps his eyes on the scrawl on this student's book, reading words that don't sink into him. From the corner of his eyes, he sees that Jiang Cheng doesn't move a single muscle. Of course he won't. He will never let Wei Ying have the last word. Both of them always had a bad habit of clinging onto their pride.

Wei Ying turns over another page. He's glad Jiang Cheng can't see his hands are shaking from where he's standing.

When Jiang Cheng speaks, it's quiet. Still loud enough for Wei Ying to hear.

“You fucking coward.”

Wei Ying's eyebrows twitch. He stares at the page before him and realises too late he has gripped the book too tightly. The page is all crumpled now.

He swallows the lump in his throat and looks up. Sizhui is in the corner of the classroom glancing between him and Jiang Cheng. Again, Wei Ying's pride flares and he wishes there isn't anyone to see this between him and the man he once called his brother.

“Jiang Cheng, what do you want me to say?” Wei Ying asks, pushing aside the school books in front of him. He stands up, holding onto the desk. “I just did what any teacher would do and gave him detention! This isn't about the past!”

“Not about the past? Of course you would easily discard something like that! Always running away and doing as you please!”

Jin Ling tugs on Jiang Cheng's arm. “Uncle, let's go—”

“Shut up, Jin Ling! Get out the classroom!”

There's a flash of hurt on Jin Ling's face before he runs out, slamming the door behind him.

Wei Ying takes one look at Sizhui before he leaves the class as well, calling after Jin Ling.

Now that they're alone, Wei Ying walks around the table, closing some distance between him and Jiang Cheng. They're not too close that they're face to face, but it's enough for the teacher to feel like he's suffocating.

He won't let Jiang Cheng see that though. He stares at him straight in the eyes.

“This isn't the place to be arguing about this,” he says. “I thought we established a long time ago that you don't want to hear anything I say.”

“I don't want you anywhere near Jin Ling.”

Of course. Wei Ying nearly laughs. Jiang Cheng doesn't beat around the bush at all. He shakes his head to himself and wishes he can shake some sense into Jiang Cheng instead.

“I can't help that! Go talk to Jin Zixuan if you want to move him again!”

Jiang Cheng doesn't say anything. He makes a displeased noise and folds his arms, his lip curling. He might be the one that can look after Jin Ling the most but that won't change the fact Jin Zixuan is still his father. They both know that.

How long has it been since he and Jiang Cheng fell out? Fifteen years? More? Their relationship was already strained before Jiejie's wedding, before that happened. Falling out sounds so flimsy in comparison to what they're like now. Jiang Cheng's hatred is evident and strong in the way he looks at Wei Ying. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to think, if possible, Jiang Cheng would trade Wei Ying's life to get his own parents back. Maybe. Maybe not. The possibility is there, and it hurts. They haven't just fallen out. In another life, Jiang Cheng wouldn't hesitate to kill him.

That is to say, if Wei Ying did have another life, would he have fucked that up too?

He is the first to break eye contact. He sighs. He is suddenly very tired.

“But you should think about what's good for him,” he says, voice low. “Is it fair he's moving around from different schools and not given the chance to even make friends?”

Jiang Cheng takes a step forward. For a short second, Wei Ying thought he would hit him.

“You don't have any right to be talking about what's good for him!”

He should have expected that response, really. How silly of him to still be feeling hurt after all these years.

Wei Ying clenches his fists. “He's my nephew too.”

Jiang Cheng moves faster than he can blink. In one second, he closes the distance between them, grabbing Wei Ying by his collar. His face is contorted with rage and his hands are shaking. Wei Ying shivers. He wants to think it's because of the winter air. He doesn't care if Jiang Cheng hits him. He's hit him before, and Wei Ying has hit him back. They've had ugly fights that ended with both of them bruised and bloody, shouting curses at each other. This doesn't matter. It shouldn't matter.

Wei Ying places a hand on Jiang Cheng's chest, but doesn't have the heart to push him away.

“You don't get to say that,” Jiang Cheng hisses. “You have nothing to do with this family.”

In the end, Jiang Cheng doesn't need to hit him. Wei Ying flinches as if he's been struck. He shoves Jiang Cheng off.

“Talking to you is pointless. Just go.”

Jiang Cheng doesn't say anything more. He sneers one last time and leaves the room, allowing Wei Ying to finally breathe.

This time, he has the last word in their argument, and yet there is no victory with this. Not when his eyes are stinging from what Jiang Cheng said and he remembers he's not as empty as he thought he was.

Wei Ying prefers feeling nothing. He wishes he feels nothing.

He grits his teeth and shakes his head. He spends the next few minutes glaring down at a desk, eyes tracing the lines of the wood. He counts each line and each ripple, trying in vain to ignore these emotions he's so used to ignoring. He hates seeing Jiang Cheng. He hates arguing with Jiang Cheng. Most of all, he wishes he can hate Jiang Cheng, but the only person he can hate is himself.

The door creaks.

Wei Ying's head snaps up and he sees the figure of a tall man wearing white. Mr. Lan opens the door wider but seems to hesitate in entering the room. He has definitely heard the conversation with Jiang Cheng then.

Today, his hair is tied into a low bun, a few strands escaping at the front to frame his face. He wears a blue shirt underneath his long, white coat and everything about him just seems so clean. He walks into the classroom and it annoys Wei Ying that someone can look so pristine while he's here feeling like shit.

But he shouldn't lash out on Mr. Lan. He inhales a deep breath and hopes his face doesn't betray anything.

“Oh, Mr. Lan.” Wei Ying forces a smile on his lips. “Sorry, have you come to pick up Sizhui?”

Mr. Lan nods.

“Okay. Well...” Wei Ying struggles to find something to say. His head is still stuck on Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling, and he hates the possibility that a stranger like Mr. Lan could have heard everything.

He takes a step back and distracts himself by gathering the books on his desk. For some reason, he is certain he can feel Mr. Lan's gaze fixed on him.

“Sizhui is outside, I think. You can take him now—”

“Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying freezes. His name sounds strange coming from Mr. Lan. He slowly glances over his shoulder, frowning. He doesn't think he's ever introduced himself to him. He did it to his brother when Mr. Lan was driving them back, but not to him directly.

“Are we that familiar with each other?” Wei Ying asks.

Mr. Lan's eyes widen slightly before he quickly looks away.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Lan. You shouldn't have heard that.” He goes back to stacking the books one by one. “I think you know by now what happened so I'll spare you some time by not repeating myself. But please just tell Sizhui not to do it again. I don't even know why he got involved in the first place. He's the last person I would expect to be involved in a fight...”

He's rambling. He quickly shuts up and hopes Mr. Lan will get the message.

There's no sound of the door closing, or footsteps, or anything to tell him that Mr. Lan is leaving. Wei Ying grinds his teeth together.

“Thanks for your time, Mr. Lan,” he says, raising his voice slightly. “That's all for today.”

Still, there's nothing. Wei Ying turns around. Mr. Lan has not moved at all and he continues to stare at Wei Ying with an expression he can't even begin to read.

“Mr. Lan?” Wei Ying calls again. “There's nothing else for you here.”

Mr. Lan's eyes narrow. “No.”

“No?”

“You are upset.”

What?

Wei Ying laughs but there's an uncomfortable weight he can't shake off his chest. “I'm not.”

Mr. Lan doesn't say anything. Wei Ying sees him clenching his fists.

Why the hell won't he move? What does he want?

“And besides,” Wei Ying continues, “forgive my rudeness, but it shouldn't matter to you. It's none of your business.”

There is nothing but silence. Even outside this classroom, Wei Ying can no longer hear sounds of distant staff members who stayed after school as well. It is as if he and Mr. Lan are the only ones left.

“What is it?” Wei Ying insists, impatience now seeping through his voice.

“Wei... Wei Ying.”

It's incredible how something so simple as someone calling his name can make Wei Ying feel so conflicted. He doesn't like it. He barely knows this guy at all and yet he utters his name with an emotion too strong for Wei Ying to understand. He takes another step backwards and clenches his fist, digging fingernails into his palm.

“We've never properly introduced ourselves to each other, you know? Aren't you being a bit too forward calling my name like that? I don't even know what to call you.”

Mr. Lan is quick to respond this time. “Lan Zhan.”

“Lan Zhan?”

“Yes.”

Lan Zhan. Wei Ying runs it along his tongue. Lan Zhan.

“Hmm.” He nods and shoves away the urge to repeat his name in his head. “Well, you can leave now, Lan Zhan. I'm sorry if I took time away from your schedule but there's no need for you to stay.”

And still, he doesn't move. Wei Ying's patience is running thin.

“Where will you go now?” Mr. Lan—Lan Zhan—asks.

Wei Ying's frown deepens. “Huh? Home, I suppose? Why are you asking?”

“Let me take you home.”

He quickly shakes his head. “No, thank you. I've still... got some work to do here.”

The sound of the clock ticking away at the wall is loud, too loud. Wei Ying counts the seconds and wonders, if ever, Lan Zhan will leave. Does he want to discuss something? Is there something wrong? Patience has never been one of Wei Ying's traits. He is good at handling most people and hiding everything with a smile, but he has never took that for patience. A necessity, maybe. Fooling other people is easier than fooling yourself.

He has no energy to fool Lan Zhan now. Wei Ying sighs, rubbing his aching head.

“Come on, Lan Zhan, go. Just because we had coffee together the other day doesn't mean you need to make sure I'm okay now.”

Lan Zhan frowns.

“Is that it? You think because we hung out once that you need to concern yourself with me?” Wei Ying can't help but laugh again. It feels empty. He doesn't know what is funny. “Don't worry, you don't. Please go about your own life.”

“That... is not it.”

“Then what is it? Why are you still here?”

He doesn't mean to raise his voice. His words reverberate through the empty classroom and he knows Lan Zhan won't mistake the anger behind it. Wei Ying winces and spins around, sitting himself back down in front of his desk. He starts scribbling on a student's book, checking each correct sum. As he does this, Lan Zhan's golden eyes are fixed on him, following every stroke his pen draws. He can probably see his hand is gripping his pen too tightly.

“Go, Mr. Lan,” Wei Ying says again, quieter. Tired. “Please, go.”

Just like with Jiang Cheng, Wei Ying gets the final word. Lan Zhan stiffly nods and finally, finally leaves. He closes the door. Wei Ying is alone again.

He doesn't allow himself to sigh in relief. Wei Ying files through each book, marking every one until his hand hurts and the numbness in his chest returns. When he is finished, he stares at the opposite wall, simply listening to his uneven breaths. He doesn't know how much time has passed, nor does he care. Outside, the soft pattering of rain begins again, joining the silence.

He still doesn't move, not even when the rain gets heavier. His stomach rumbles and his head is aching, but at least it helps get his mind off things.

Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan. There's some familiarity there, almost as if Wei Ying met someone with the same name before—but he knows he hasn't.

He was out of line. He shouldn't have yelled at him. Normally, Wei Ying has more control over this, but there was just something about the way Lan Zhan looked at him. He didn't know what it was back then and he still doesn't now. Sympathy? Pity? Wei Ying doesn't want any of that, especially from a stranger.

The sound of his phone vibrating is the only thing that pulls him away from his thoughts. Sighing, he takes it out of his pocket. Wen Qing, as usual.

Wei Ying groans. He forgot he invited his best friend over for a movie night. He already cancelled on her last time; if he does it again then she might actually kill him.

At least it'll stop him from sulking with a bottle of vodka tonight.

 

- x -

 

“Hey, you're not even paying attention to the movie at all.”

Wei Ying blinks. He glances back at the TV, just in time to see the main character get their arm mauled apart by a zombie. It was his idea to watch a zombie film, and usually he'd be screaming his lungs off by now while Wen Qing laughed at how pathetic he was. Tonight, he has barely even blinked, let alone looked at the screen.

“Sorry,” Wei Ying sighs. “I got stuff on my mind.”

Wen Qing shoves a handful of popcorn into her mouth and rolls over on the couch to look at him. She raises an eyebrow, waiting for Wei Ying to tell her what the hell is the matter.

Wei Ying isn't in the mood to talk about it. He steals some popcorn from her bowl and dodges as she tries to smack his hand away. As always, Wen Qing doesn't pester him when he doesn't elaborate on his problems. They've known each other long enough to know that will get them nowhere.

“And I'm here to get stuff off your mind,” she says, pushing herself off the couch. Wei Ying grabs her bowl of popcorn after she's left, eating the rest.

The movie is forgotten and the sound of zombies eating people alive is just background music. Wen Qing walks over to his shelves, muttering something about finding a better movie—not that Wei Ying will pay attention to that as well. At this rate, all he wants to do is take a nap.

He takes Wen Qing's place on the couch and rolls himself into the thick blanket. There's popcorn crumbs everywhere; clearly his best friend is making herself at home as usual. Grumbling, he shakes the blanket about to get rid of the crumbs, but it's practically useless because he can still feel them when he goes back to sushi-rolling himself into the couch.

Meanwhile, Wen Qing is searching around for something better to do by the looks of it. Wei Ying ignores her, closing his eyes.

“What is this?”

He cracks open one eye to see Wen Qing waving a piece of paper about.

Wei Ying frowns, sitting up and squinting at it. What's so important about a piece of paper? It looks all crumpled from here as well...

Oh, wait.

He groans, slumping back and wrapping the blanket tighter around himself.

“Ugh, I forgot all about that.”

“Oh? Whose number is it?”

“Just some guy I met recently. It's nothing.”

Wen Qing smooths the paper in her hands, holding it out in front of her. “You seeing people again?”

Wei Ying scoffs. “No, I'm not. Hence why it's all crumpled up.”

“How'd you get his number anyway?”

Jingyi's demented grin flashes in his head. Wei Ying shivers.

“Some kid from school gave it to me.”

“Okay, now I'm even more confused. Is this a student's parent?”

Wei Ying takes a deep breath. “I told you it doesn't matter. We had coffee together and he gave me a lift home, that's it.”

“Already sounds better than most people you've seen in the past.”

“Haha, hilarious.”

Rolling her eyes, Wen Qing sits crossed legged on the floor, still staring at the piece of paper. She finally pauses the movie when another character lets out a blood curdling screen that makes Wei Ying's headache worse.

“Is he nice?”

Wei Ying frowns and rubs his eyes, letting out another yawn. “Hm? He's okay, I guess. Very posh and smart looking.”

“Definitely better already. I say you call him.”

That wakes him up. He shoots a glare at his best friend. “No.”

She sighs. “What is it with you going for dicks but rejecting actually nice people?”

“Hey, Wen Ning is a friend and you know it wouldn't have worked out between us.”

Wen Qing never let him live down the fact he rejected her brother. Well, does it count as rejecting when they both mutually decided things aren't going to work out between them? How do you even get with someone if they're still calling you Sir? Wen Ning is one of the few friends who still stuck with him even after everything that happened. Wei Ying didn't want to ruin that by playing around with him as he did with all his other flings.

“Haha, I know,” Wen Qing smirks. “Besides, you're too much of a mess for my brother.”

She has a good point, but she doesn't have to say it.

Wen Qing waves the piece of paper again. “But I'm saying, what's wrong with this guy?”

“Nothing. I just can't be bothered with any of that right now.”

Maybe if he met Lan Zhan several years ago, he wouldn't be wasting any time at all to jump on him. But now? Now, Wei Ying is tired and it takes too much effort to bother getting close to anyone.

“The other day, you made me watch The Notebook with you and you cried throughout the whole thing.”

“Because The Notebook is sad. What's your point?”

Wen Qing shakes her head, sitting up. “No, people only cry over The Notebook if they're either saps, or if they want a relationship too. In fact, most people who cry over romantic movies are only crying because it's what they secretly yearn for. You were crying buckets for the whole two hours.”

The expression on her face makes it look like she's explaining a detailed procedure on how to transplant someone's brain, not the reasons why someone will cry over The Notebook.

“It's sad!” Wei Ying says again. “They died in the end!”

“And you've been drinking more! Don't think I haven't noticed!”

“Because life is shit!”

Wen Qing chucks a pillow at his face, putting a little bit too much force into it. Wei Ying groans and hides under his blanket, wishing to Buddha that he cancelled this movie night. Or at least he should have invited Wen Ning instead... Then again, if Wen Qing found out he invited her brother and not her, she would have actually beaten Wei Ying up. Forget the fact she's supposed to be a doctor. Taking care of people's lives apparently does not count if your name is Wei Ying.

She throws a second pillow at him. “It's going to continue being shit if you don't do anything about it!”

Wei Ying ignores her, closing his eyes tight under the blanket.

“Is he tall? Attractive?”

Keep on ignoring her.

A third pillow is lobbed in his direction.

“Why does it matter?” Wei Ying snaps, popping his head out of the blanket.

Wen Qing is grabbing another pillow, no doubt ready to throw that one too. Curse his habit of collecting as many cushions and pillows for his living room. And curse Wen Qing's good aim.

“Well, is he?”

Wei Ying groans for the umpteenth time today. He sits up, throwing his hands in the air. Lan Zhan's face flashes in his mind.

“Yeah, he's tall and pretty, okay?” he says. “Kinda looks like he stepped out of Ancient China—but like I said, I'm not going for it.”

All Wen Qing does is nod. She looks at the piece of paper one more time but doesn't say anything. Wei Ying is almost in shock. Has she finally dropped it?

Then, she lunges across the table and snatches his phone, running off into the kitchen. Wei Ying's heart drops. He scrambles out of the couch, tripping over the blanket and listening to Wen Qing's evil laugh sounding through his apartment.

“Oi, what are you doing? Wen Qing! WEN QING!”

 

- x -

 

It has been a while since Wangji felt the weight of his guqin on his back. He deftly follows his brother, scanning his eyes around the police station in case any of the officers are hidden among the shadows. There is no one. Most of them are either on patrol around the city or napping in the staff room now that Nie Mingjue has gone home. Wangji frowns at their incompetence. At least it has made things significantly easy to sneak into the station.

This sort of thing is reckless, but it is the only option in getting Xichen's sword back. It was not any trouble getting into the police station. Through the centuries, both brothers honed their cultivation until they were gifted with other abilities normal cultivators did not have. Spiritual energy cracked at their fingertips and they could easily transfer that onto other things, such as the elements around them. It is an ability both rarely used, especially in a world that now denied the existence of cultivation.

Tonight, however, is a different story. Infiltrating the building did not require too much effort. When they were inside, Wangji strummed his fingers across his guqin, sending forth ripples that froze each camera in the area. They were not broken; only disrupted so that they would not catch footage for the time being.

Getting Xichen's sword will not take too long. Wangji continues following his brother.

“I can sense it nearby. There seems to be only one person guarding over it,” Xichen whispers. “Still, let's be careful.”

Wangji nods. One person will be not be difficult to subdue. It is not long until they spot him dozing off in front of Xichen's sword. He is sitting on a chair, head drooping and then jolting upright once he almost topples over in his sleep. It seems they will not even have to restrain him. If he carries on sleeping then Xichen will be able to grab Shuoyue with ease—

Sound blares from Wangji's pocket. Xichen jerks back, staring at him in horror.

“Wangji,” he hisses.

Wangji does not need to be told twice. He roots through his clothes and shakes the flashing phone. It is still playing music. Wangji has no idea how to stop it.

“W-What?” The officer behind them jumps, spinning around. “Hey—!”

Darting forward, Wangji jabs at the pressure points in his spine without hesitation. Within seconds, the man is tilting back, letting out a garbled sound before he crashes onto the ground. There is a loud thump when he hits his head against the edge of a desk along the way.

He lays limp at their feet, eyes closed. Not moving.

Wangji leans down to feel for his pulse. He is still alive, fortunately. His goal was to paralyse the man for the time being, not make him unconscious.

Xichen sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose while taking deep breaths. The look he shoots Wangji is not pleased, but he says nothing more as they lift the unconscious man up.

“That was too close, Wangji,” Xichen says once the man is back on his chair. “Please put your phone on silent.”

Wangji's eyebrows furrow. He presses his finger against various symbols and icons on the screen. Placing a silencing spell on his phone will be easier than trying to figure out where are the options to put it on silent, as Xichen worded it.

“How?” he eventually asks.

His brother lets out what can only be a suffering sigh. He takes the phone from Wangji's hands and does it for him.

“You have a few texts,” Xichen then says. “From... Well. Have a look for yourself.”

Puzzled, Wangji leans in to look at the screen.

To say he is confused is a bit of an understatement. Wangji spends ages staring at the screen, trying to decipher what on earth is happening. He thinks this is Wei Ying trying to contact him, but why are his sentences like this? Is this some sort of modern language one can only decipher through technology?

“Is he okay?” Xichen asks after a while.

“I do not know,” Wangji admits. “Is this another language?”

Xichen shakes his head. “I believe he is only pressing random buttons on the keyboard. As to why, I cannot be sure.”

They stare at the messages for another minute before Xichen gives a sigh. “Well, you can't call him now.”

Wangji nods. He takes his phone from Xichen and quickly types a reply, surprised when Wei Ying responds in less than a few seconds.

Xichen is frowning over his shoulder. “Perhaps he is drunk? Tell him you will call him later.”

Wangji slides his phone back into his pocket, pushing aside his burning curiosity to focus on the matter at hand. As much as he wants to talk to Wei Ying, doing so in this place will only cause them more problems.

“My apologies,” Wangji tells his brother. Xichen lets out another sigh, but this time there is amusement in his eyes.

Wasting no more time, Xichen retrieves the sword from the case it is kept in. The lock on it is easily broken, and Xichen lets out a small smile when Shuoyue is back with him. He weighs it in his hands, as if familiarising himself with its presence once again.

“Come,” he says after. “Let us leave.”

Before they leave, they make sure the officer is still unconscious. With luck, perhaps the knock to his head will make him forget the brief glance he had of their faces.

The night air is refreshing when they finally exit the police station. Xichen hides his sword back into his qiankun bag and Wangji does the same with his guqin. Looking at them, no one will ever guess the crime both men just committed.

“They will find out the sword is missing eventually,” Xichen says as soon as they are back in Wangji's car.

Wangji starts the engine. “With no evidence, they cannot do anything to you.”

“Let us hope so.” Xichen stretches, yawning slightly. “Are you going to call him? He requested, did he not?”

Wangji has not forgotten. He remembers how Wei Ying told him to go earlier today, the unmistakable irritation in his grey eyes when Wangji refused at first. As always, Wei Ying baffles him with his unpredictable actions. Two thousand years on and he still cannot keep up with the pace of this man's moods and thoughts.

Regardless, he cannot stay away even if he wants to. Wangji takes out his phone and calls the number that messaged him earlier.

The response is instant.

“LET GO OF ME—OH, hello!!”

Wangji frowns. “You are not Wei Ying.”

It is a woman's voice. It sounds a bit familiar, but Wangji cannot match it with a face at the moment.

“No, he's here,” she says.

There is some rustling and hushed voices on the line. Wangji's frown deepens when he hears faint cries of pain and shouting. What in the world is going on?

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan.”

Wangji straightens upon hearing Wei Ying's voice.

“I'm sorry about this, my friend is being a pain—ow! Don't hit me! Ow!”

The voices are so loud that even Xichen is staring at his phone in bewilderment. He meets Wangji's eyes and shrugs.

“Wei Ying,” Wangji calls.

“Yes, yes, it's me. Ta-da.” He lets out a nervous laugh. “But I didn't mean to call you, honestly. I'll go now—”

Again, more cries of pain. Over Wei Ying's yells, he can also vaguely hear the woman in the background.

“Talk to him, you piece of shit!” she says.

Wangji is not sure whether to be worried or not.

“Okay, okay—ah. Lan Zhan, hello again.” Wei Ying is still laughing but even Wangji can tell it's forced. “I thought you were busy breaking into the police station right now.”

Xichen sighs at the way he words it.

“We are done,” Wangji says.

“Oh. Okay. I take it you're not in jail...?”

“No.”

“That's good—I mean, it's not good you're breaking into places to begin with. I don't encourage that behaviour, Lan Zhan. I wouldn’t have taken you for a criminal at all. Is your brother that bad of an influence?”

Xichen raises an eyebrow at the phone, clearly offended.

“My brother is not like that.”

“Haha, I'm joking, I'm joking.” There is more sound of rustling, and then something covering the line. Faintly, Wangji hears Wei Ying speaking although the noise is muffled. “I'm talking to him already, okay?!”

When he speaks again, it is clearer. His voice fills the entire space of the car.

“Listen, um. I'm sorry about earlier. I was pretty rude and you were only trying to be nice.”

“It is fine.”

“Right.” Wei Ying lets out a sigh. “Thanks. Haha, that was easier than I thought.”

Wangji cannot help but ask. “Who are you with?”

“The girl earlier? She's my friend. She, uh, was the one who called you at first. Sorry about that again.”

“Hmm.”

Silence. Wangji wishes he can see Wei Ying's face rather than just talking to him through the phone.

“I... I should go. I don't want to bother you.”

He shakes his head. “You are not.”

“Oh,” Wei Ying's voice rises a bit. “That's good. Well, you have my number now so... If ever you need to talk to me about anything school related, just send me a text. Or call, if you'd prefer that.

“I see.”

“Goodbye... then.”

Wangji does not want him to go. Like the fool he is, he has nothing to say, as usual.

“Goodbye,” he says, reluctantly. “Have... a nice evening.”

“You too. See you around, Lan Zhan.”

Just like that, he is gone. Wangji returns his phone to his pocket with a deep sigh. He is not ungrateful; he is glad he has managed to talk with Wei Ying again, and this time is it not because Wei Ying is upset. It still does not stop the frustration that he feels so far away from Wei Ying. The exuberant man has always been an enigma to Wangji, but more so now when he cannot even begin to think what sort of things he has been through in this life.

He wants to know everything, but he doesn't know how to get it, or ask. He does not even know if he has the right for such things.

“What is the matter?” Xichen asks, voice soft.

Wangji considers not saying anything. His brother will know either way. He has always been too good at reading him.

“It is more difficult to talk to him, even now,” he says.

Xichen lays a hand on his shoulder. “It is to be expected, Wangji. They do not know us, as we remember them.”

Wangji presses his lips together. “Is it right...”

He stops, struggling to find the correct words.

“What do you mean?”

“Is it right for me to...”

Again, his voice trails off. He narrows his eyes at the road ahead of them.

“Is it right for you to yearn for Wei Wuxian, when he feels like a new person?”

Of course, Xichen knows. Wangji grits his teeth upon hearing his doubts clearly voiced.

“He is still the same,” he says. “But I do not know anything about him.”

Wei Ying is Wei Ying no matter who he is. Wei Ying has never belonged to Wangji, not now and not ever. All those lifetimes ago, even when Wei Ying was in his reach, Wangji never got close enough to even touch his heart. Wei Ying thought nothing of him, similar to how he thinks nothing of him now. Everything is the same.

Does he even have the right to yearn for a second chance? Wangji did not care if Wei Ying hated him back then; all he wanted was for him to be safe from the dangers he put himself in.

It is difficult to feel that way now, when he does not even know what dangers surround Wei Ying in this lifetime. He wants to protect and love him as he has always done—but how?

Xichen squeezes his shoulder. When Wangji looks up, his brother is smiling at him.

“I think... I think we have lived for far too long, Wangji,” he says. “It is time for you to do what makes you happy. Do not let this chance slip away.”

Happy. He says that word as if Wangji is supposed to know what that means. What is happiness? Does he remember what it feels like, to smile genuinely, to feel a lightness in his heart as opposed to the weight that refuses to leave?

It is too much to think about. Wangji shakes his head to himself and starts the car once again. They say nothing more.

Above them, the moon is as bright as it was the night he met Wei Ying. The white aura, he remembers, was almost as distracting as Wei Ying's smile. From then on, Wangji has been unable to make sense of his emotions, forever distracted by this infuriating man who continues to puzzle him even today.

 

- x -

 

Wen Qing has ran out of pillows to whack him with. Instead, she is now shaking Wei Ying so hard he can hear his own brain giving up on him.

“School related? School related?”

He struggles away from her. Everything is spinning. Fuck, he needs a drink.

“What else are we supposed to talk about?!”

Wen Qing throws her hands in the air. “I don't know, anything apart from school related things!”

Tired, Wei Ying collapses back on the couch and faceplants one of his pillows. He is tempted to scream into it but he will do that once Wen Qing leaves. If she ever leaves, that is.

He turns his head to glare at her. “I don't know why you're so eager to get me laid. I'm fine by myself.”

“And besides,” he continues, “I barely know anything about the guy! He just finished breaking into the police station! Who the fuck does that? What if he's crazy?”

“So are you!”

Wei Ying pouts. “Thanks! But seriously, why are you so pushy about this?”

Wen Qing has never cared too much about his relationships. She cared if Wei Ying came back at night, half dead because of alcohol or because of bad sex, bad dates. Too many times, Wei Ying used to stumble to her house, retching out his insides until he passed out and Wen Qing would nurse him to health. Whenever he woke, she'd hit him and he'd promise he won't drink as much next time, or he won't go on those dodgy dates that he knows will end badly, or he'll actually stop playing around with people and focus on his own life for once. Rinse and repeat, again and again.

Sighing, she sits on the end of the couch and looks down at him.

“I don't like seeing you so lonely, Wei Ying.”

“I'm not—”

Wen Qing lightly smacks him on the leg, but there's a seriousness in her eyes.

“Stop lying to yourself. You can't keep doing this forever.”

“And what's better? Distracting myself with a bunch of strangers? Getting wasted every night until you have to come drag my ass back home?”

Her eyes narrow. “No. Not that. You are not doing that again.”

He doesn't say anything. He doesn't want to go back there. The distraction was deceivingly nice, but the crashing weight that followed once you realise this is all you're worth almost drove him insane. He thought he could lose himself in alcohol and attention. He thought he didn't care about what happened to him.

“Just... stop trying to keep everything to yourself so much,” Wen Qing says. “You deserve to be loved too, you asshole.”

Wei Ying wants to laugh at that. Wen Qing has been watching too much of The Notebook.

“Love? Already love?” He sits up, shaking his head at her. “Please, I just went for a coffee with this guy. I don't even know him.”

“Then get to know him!”

What is the point? Wei Ying is too tired to argue with her now but what is the point? Even if he were to talk with Mr. Lan, where would this go? He doesn't want commitment. He can't imagine commitment. Something like that; it wasn't made for people like him. He doesn't deserve that.

“You're making such a big deal out of this, it's not like I'm going to marry the damn guy,” Wei Ying says.

Ugh. Like he said, he's not going to get close to this guy. They can talk as much as they want but this will go nowhere.

“Whatever, look I'm adding him to my contacts now, okay?” Wei Ying shows Wen Qing his phone, quickly typing up all of Lan Zhan's details. To get Wen Qing off his back, he even gives Lan Zhan a special nickname, just for him.

Wen Qing rolls her eyes. “Future Husband? Seriously? You're going to eat your words so much, Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying lightly pushes on her shoulder. “It's a joke, okay? Come on, crack a smile. I'm doing what you're telling me to do. Happy now?”

She shoves him off, harder. He flops back down onto the couch with a whine.

“We'll see about that,” she says.

 

- x -

 

It is nearing midnight and Wei Ying cannot sleep despite this day tiring him out. Even after Wen Qing finally left, all he did was lay down in bed staring at the ceiling. Bored, he scrolls through his phone to pass the time until he does fall asleep. Eventually.

There's nothing interesting both on Instagram or Twitter, not even YouTube. Wei Ying yawns, twisting and turning on the bed. No matter how many times he readjusts his position, he still can't settle down.

At least it's the weekend tomorrow. If he can't sleep tonight then he'll just hibernate all weekend like the productive adult he is.

Giving up, Wei Ying grabs his phone again, finding, to no one's surprise, that there still isn't anything interesting online either. He contemplates texting Wen Qing but decides against it. She's traumatised him enough for today.

Wen Ning will be asleep by now as well. He has morning shifts during the weekend...

Damn, life is hard when you only have two friends.

Wei Ying stops at the new contact he almost forgot all about. His finger hovers over his number, wondering if he should delete it now that Wen Qing isn't here.

Or...

He's too tired to think right now. And too bored. Wei Ying has no reasons to justify why he's suddenly typing out a text to Mr. Lan, but fuck it. It's not like they're on bad terms—and they are now calling each other by name, even if Wei Ying would still rather call him Mr. Lan.

Texting him now isn't really going to do anything though, right?

The reply is quick. Maybe Lan Zhan is having trouble sleeping too.

Wei Ying is smiling before he knows it. He presses his cheeks and frowns. Fuck, he must be more tired than he thought. Lan Zhan's texts have the emotional capacity of a spoon and yet he's here smiling like an idiot.

Alright, maybe Wei Ying is having a bit of fun playing around with this guy—but only because Mr. Lan is so stiff and uptight! Even through his texts! He sits up in his bed and quickly calls the music tutor, grinning when he picks up straight away.

“Lan Zhan, good evening,” he says.

“Good evening.”

There. So monotone! Lan Zhan is lucky there's a soothing huskiness to his deep voice, especially when Wei Ying presses his phone against his ear.

“As if you're playing the piano at this time,” he says. “It's almost midnight.”

“I am planning for Jingyi's lessons this weekend.”

“Jingyi can play the piano?”

The piano is the last thing Wei Ying will associate with the over-excited teenager. A kazoo, maybe. Or the drums. The drums definitely fit.

“No, but I am teaching him.”

Wei Ying smirks. “Good luck with that.”

He wriggles in his bed, burying himself back under the duvet.

“Go on then,” Wei Ying says. “Play me a song.”

“What song?”

“Any song, I don't mind.”

There's silence for a while. He can hear Lan Zhan moving, the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. Then, the high-pitched keys of a piano.

It starts off slow, gentle, almost delicate. Wei Ying closes his eyes with a sigh and listens as the notes ascend, quicker. They dance around him and it's like his heart follows each rise and each melody. There is a sadness in the song that he is sure of, yet the rising notes are hopeful. He stops breathing in fear of disrupting the music, simply laying there and letting Lan Zhan play an untold story.

He struggles to find his voice once Lan Zhan stops.

“What song is that? Did you make it up?”

“Yes.”

“What's it called?”

“I have not given it a name.”

“It's nice, I like it. Is there a story behind it?”

A pause. Lan Zhan's voice is quieter. “I... made it for someone.”

“Oh?” Wei Ying did not expect that. “How romantic.”

No wonder the song sounds so sad, almost yearning. He wishes he didn't ask because now it feels like he has intruded on something personal, something he shouldn't be part of.

“I feel like you shouldn't be playing this song for me then if it's for someone else,” Wei Ying says, forcing out a laugh. “Save that for the person you love, Lan Zhan!”

There is another pause. Wei Ying hears him sighing from the other line.

“No, it's okay.”

“If you say so...”

Lan Zhan starts playing the same song again, this time humming along to the notes. His deep voice is nice in tune with the high pitched tones. It's not long until Wei Ying's eyelids get heavier and a long yawn escapes him.

“Ah, at this rate, you're going to make me sleep,” he says, covering his mouth.

The music stops.

“No, carry on. It's like a lullaby. I like your voice. Unless... you want to talk more?”

Lan Zhan takes a deep breath. “I... I would like to talk to you.”

Wei Ying opens his eyes wide. Maybe it's just his lack of sleep. He's over-analysing Lan Zhan's responses.

“You sound like you're having difficulty admitting that, haha.”

He lets out another yawn, eyes watering. When he looks at the time, he sees it's now ten past twelve. He's been talking to Lan Zhan for almost half an hour?

“You sound tired,” Lan Zhan says.

“I guess I am. It's been a loooong day.”

“Sleep.”

“I will... I will...” Wei Ying rubs his eyes. “Are you going to sing me to sleep?”

“If that is what you desire.”

Once again, he plays the same song and hums in tune with it. Wei Ying would never think a voice like Lan Zhan's would be good for a lullaby, but all of his defences crumble the more he sings. He doesn't resist when his eyelids close and his body slowly relaxes. In his head, he sees an image of the graceful man sitting in front of his piano, eyes closed as he runs his fingers over the keys. Even the sight of him makes Wei Ying sigh, lulling him deeper into sleep.

“Goodnight, Lan Zhan,” he mumbles.

He hears Lan Zhan's calming voice amidst the music, wishing him sweet dreams.

 

- x -

 

In his dreams, he is in a cave, watching the fire flickering amber and gold on the dark stone walls. He is tired, and hungry, and in pain. It is difficult to breathe or to stay awake, but there is someone here who urges him to keep his eyes open. Wei Ying can only smile.

“How about you sing a song?” he asks.

His companion doesn't smile back. He never does. His face is nothing but a mirage that Wei Ying cannot focus on. He can only see golden eyes burning through the flames.

And then, the cave is filled with the soft echo of his voice. It calms all of the troubles in Wei Ying's heart and makes him forget about the fever coursing in him. He sighs, laying his head against the wall. He ripples in and out of the dream, like the fire that sways in rhythm to this stranger's voice.

The song carries him along the night, through dreams that remain as dreams, through blurs of white robes and golden eyes.