Jiang Cheng is not in a good mood. Mornings aren't in his list of favourite things in the world, but there are a number of things that have already pissed him off today. He hasn't even been awake for an hour yet.

1. He barely got any sleep. He's been having these weird dreams recently where he's walking around a dark forest, clearly worried about something or someone, but he doesn't know what's going on. He'll run around for fuck knows how long and then wake up feeling shittier than he felt in the dream. Not a good start to the day at all.

2. He doesn't even get to wake up on time. Jin Ling was clearly messing around with his phone yesterday and managed to turn the alarm off! Now Jiang Cheng is late for work!

3. He's ran out of coffee. The only thing keeping him awake right now is the unchanging fact he hates his life.

4. The bug just sent him a text, and instead of ignoring it like he usually does, Jiang Cheng decides to make himself even later for work to see what the fuck that midget wants.

As he expected, he really shouldn't have bothered to check the texts. All it does is piss him off even more and waste his time.

Son of a bitch. Jiang Cheng resists the urge to type up a whole rant of why he feels the need to waste his time now of all times. Is this jerk for real?

He rolls his eyes. While his brother-in-law is annoying (even more so now that he's apparently famous), the stupid scandals he gets into aren't enough to throw him into jail. Unfortunately.

Wait. Fuck, is that the time? Jiang Cheng lets out a string of curses as he looks at his phone. Chief Nie is going to rip him apart if he's late. He rushes out of his apartment and sprints across the corridor. With his luck, there'll be traffic outside as well and he'll end up being an hour late.

Jiang Cheng manages to dive into the closing elevator just in time. The person inside gasps, moving out of the way before he barrels straight into them. He's about to apologise for almost knocking them out when he looks up and sees a familiar face.

“You,” he spits out, eyes narrowing at the criminal staring wide eyed at him.

It's that sword wielding guy!

“Ah,” he says. “Officer.”

He isn't wearing a suit today. More importantly, there doesn't seem to be any other weapon he's carrying. Instead, he is wearing a dark blue jumper with jeans, a black winter coat, and a thick white scarf. Looks normal enough—but then again, you can hide all sorts of weapons under a layered outfit like that. This guy isn't fooling Jiang Cheng.

His hair is long, tied back into a low ponytail, and reminds Jiang Cheng of what his father's hair used to look like before he passed away. He's quite tall too. It pisses Jiang Cheng off that he's a few inches taller than him, but he's not the type to get intimidated by something so trivial like that. He continues to scowl at the man, unwavering even when he offers a polite smile.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jiang Cheng demands, punching the buttons on the panel.

To make things worse, this elevator is moving slower than a snail. It doesn't help his room is on one of the top floors.

“I am using the elevator,” the criminal says.

Jiang Cheng's eye twitches. That infuriating smile is still on the man's face.

“I live here,” he later adds, sighing.

“In these apartments?”

He couldn't be so unlucky to be living in the same place as this guy, right? Right?

“Yes. I... take it you do too?”

Fucking hell. Jiang Cheng doesn't bother replying. His groan should be enough of an answer.

He impatiently looks at what floor they're on now. Seriously, why is this thing so slow today?

“If I see you causing trouble here as well...” he warns.

“I assure you I don't normally get in trouble with the law, Officer.”

Jiang Cheng folds his arms. “Hmph.”

He spares another look at the time on his phone. If he manages to get to work in five minutes then he'd consider it a literal miracle, especially seeing as his usual journey will take him fifteen minutes at least.

Today cannot get any worse.

Of course, because the world hates him, this is when the floor literally shudders and the lights flicker. Jiang Cheng thinks oh fuck for one second before the whole elevator staggers and he's crashing onto the floor.

“What the fuck—”

The lights are back on. Jiang Cheng takes a few moments to blink things back onto focus. He sees the stranger standing over him. With the light literally glowing from behind his head and his hand reaching out, Jiang Cheng can't help but think he looks a bit like a saint. And then he sees what the time is on the criminal's watch.

“Shit,” Jiang Cheng swears for the hundredth time this morning. He ignores the criminal's outstretched hand and pulls himself up, looking around. The elevator isn't moving. It's stopped. Why the fuck has it stopped?

“I think the elevator is broken,” the man says, pressing a few buttons. Nothing lights up on the panel.

Great. Fucking great. Perfect. Something else to add onto the list of why today is shaping up to be a shitty day. He has a whole minute to get to work and he is now stuck in a motherfucking elevator with a guy he arrested last week.

“For fuck sake, I'm going to be late for work,” Jiang Cheng says. He jabs the emergency button repeatedly until his finger starts to hurt. In the end, nothing happens and the officer lets out a groan before proceeding to kick the useless thing.

“I doubt kicking it will help, Officer.”

No, it really doesn't, but Jiang Cheng kicks it one more time just because he can.

It's safe to say he's definitely late for work. The best he can do is call the police station and explain now why he's late. And beg for his life.

Or he would do that if there is signal in this stupid elevator.

It takes all of his self control not to throw his phone against the wall. He tries three times to call the station but his phone keeps saying there's no signal. Literally everything is working against him today.

In the corner of his eyes, he sees the man walking towards the panel, his back turned to Jiang Cheng. It's hard to see what he's doing from here, and it only occurs to the officer now this is deliberate.

“Oi, what are you doing?” Jiang Cheng demands, taking a step closer.

The man shifts his back, purposely blocking his view. “Nothing.”

Nothing, my ass.

“Don't mess around with it!”

This asshole actually looks over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

“Officer, you were kicking it moments ago.”

The nerve! Jiang Cheng glares at the man's back as he returns to whatever the fuck he's doing to that panel. He doesn't have to stand here and take this shit—actually, he may have to stand here because there's nothing else to do in this broken elevator for now, but that still doesn't mean he has to take this shit!

Narrowing his eyes, Jiang Cheng grabs the guy's shoulder and yanks him around.

“Oh, look,” the man says. He shakes Jiang Cheng's hand off and motions towards the panel.

It's lighting up again.

Smiling, the man presses the button for the ground floor. His lips tug upwards even more when the elevator descends as if nothing even happened.

“What did you do?” Jiang Cheng asks. This guy's smile... There's nothing good about it. He looks polite and well-mannered on the outside but Jiang Cheng knows people like him have the most to hide.

He narrows his eyes at the panel, which now looks like it's good as new. What the hell did this guy do? He didn't even need to open it up or look at the wiring. In fact, Jiang Cheng didn't hear him pressing anything either.

The man blinks. “Nothing. I think they fixed it.”

“Don't lie to me—”

There's a ping. Jiang Cheng looks up to see they finally reached the ground floor. The doors open, and for a second, the flooding light that seeps through almost blinds him. Outside, nothing has changed. No one probably even noticed this elevator broke down. So much for five star accommodation.

“Officer, didn't you say you were going to be late?”

He turns back to the man. The expression he has on his face cements the fact that Jiang Cheng does not like this guy. At all. It's not even because he was prancing around the forest with a fucking sword of all things, or that his smile is the single most annoying thing Jiang Cheng has ever seen, it's because... it's because of something! Maybe he's just having a horrible morning and seeing this guy being calm while he's constantly losing his shit is not the best experience. Either way, Jiang Cheng does not hide the scowl on his face when the man walks past him.

“Have a pleasant day, Officer,” he says, waving a hand.

Just like that, he leaves, not before Jiang Cheng catches the faint scent of lavender coming from him. It reminds him a bit of the incense sticks his mother used to light up in their house, back when his parents still smiled at each other, and Yanli sang in the kitchen while he and Wei Ying waited for her to finish cooking. The incense sticks would get drowned out as the lotus root and pork rib soup was cooked, but Jiang Cheng always remembered the lavender the most. His father used to buy those incense sticks for his mother. She stopped lighting them once their marriage went downhill.

The elevator doors begin to close again. Jiang Cheng jerks back into the present. Great. Now he's fifteen minutes late for work.

He pushes the criminal to the back of his mind, hoping to the heavens above that he won't have to bump into him again. He also sends a quick prayer that Nie Mingjue won't kill him on sight for being this late.

As soon as he arrives at the station, he already knows Chief Nie is in a bad mood before even seeing the man. That much is obvious if you look at all the officers working twice as hard, clearly not wanting to push their luck. Any hope that he'll somehow survive today unscathed is dashed and Jiang Cheng prepares to face his doom.

“Are you looking for Chief Nie?” Another officer stops him just as he is about to knock on Nie Mingjue's office.

He frowns, recognising it is Song Lan. He's one of the younger officers around here, having just graduated from university. Still, he's competent for someone who's young and new. A bit quiet, but quiet never harmed anybody. Jiang Cheng prefers quiet compared to some of the useless men around here.

“Yeah, is he in his office?”

Song Lan nods. “I would be... mindful though. Someone stole the sword.”

Jiang Cheng jerks his head back. “What?”

“Someone broke into the station last night and took the sword you recently confiscated.”

“What the fuck? Who was on duty last night?”

Song Lan shrugs. “I don't know, but Chief Nie fired them this morning... along with everyone on duty last night.”

It's a good thing Jiang Cheng stopped doing night shifts. He takes a deep breath, knocking on Nie Mingjue's door before entering.

Nie Mingjue doesn't start yelling when he looks up, so that's a good sign. He's hunched over his desk, filing through piles and piles of paper work and messily drawn maps. They're the same papers they look over for the gang attacks that have been happening around Gusu lately.

“You're late,” Chief Nie says.

“Sorry, got stuck in a broken elevator.”

It's the sort of shitty excuse slackers will try to get away with, yet Nie Mingjue doesn't even yell at Jiang Cheng, let alone scrutinise him. He's busy reading a new report. The text is too small for Jiang Cheng to read from this distance but if it's more important than an officer arriving almost forty minutes late to their shift then... Well, shit.

“The sword got stolen?” he asks.

“Yes. And none of our cameras caught anything.”

Jiang Cheng frowns, looking up at one of the cameras in the corner of the room. “How is that possible?”

“I don't know, but it's not like they broke our cameras. They just made all them stop working at the same time.”

“They hacked the system then?”

The older man shrugs, letting out a tired sigh. “I don't fucking know.”

Jiang Cheng remembers that gentle smile taunting him just half an hour ago. No one else would want to steal the sword, let alone actually know there's a sword currently being hidden in the police station. Besides, he should have know that guy looked far too suspicious this morning. He managed to fix the elevator without even doing anything—could he have messed around with the cameras too?

“Hmm, I saw the owner of the sword earlier this morning. He lives near me.”

Nie Mingjue barely reacts. “That sword looked expensive. I wouldn't be surprised if he's not the only person who would want it.”

The younger man doesn't bother to hide his confusion. Chief Nie is bit quick to defend this unknown stranger, he thinks. This is Nie Mingjue after all. He doesn't rest until he slams justice into whoever broke the law.

“Still, I'll question him the next time I see him.”

Nie Mingjue grunts, dismissing the topic. His lip curls as he finishes looking at the new report, shoving it out of the way with a bit too much aggression. Jiang Cheng hears him muttering a few curses under his breath.

“What's wrong?” he finally asks. The temptation to grab that report and read it for himself is strong.

“There's more gang attacks.”

The reports strewn all over the table makes that obvious, but it still doesn't stop the unsettling turn in his stomach. It was only this year these attacks started taking place; at first beginning with assaults in alleyways, so random and clumsy they mistook them for drunken fights and squabbles. However, as the months passed, the attacks grew in number, dotted all over Gusu with no apparent pattern or motive.

The only thing they noticed was that, sometimes, the attacks were self inflicted, or done by a friend or family member who was with them at the time. When interrogated, the victims would all say they were made to do it, that they had no other choice. That was the only thing they'd remember. No other clues as to who could have made them do such an act, or what threats were given for them to submit.

Over a year has passed and they still have no information on any of the gang members, or the hideout. And especially no information on their elusive leader.

To say it is irritating is an understatement. From what they can gather, this man must be rich enough to hide all of his tracks. That, or he isn't human. No matter how much they dig up, there are no traces left that can give them a clear enough lead on where to go next. They can only wait for each attack and hope something comes up next time.

“Any more leads?” Jiang Cheng asks, already knowing the answer.

Nie Mingjue shakes his head. “These fuckers are pissing me off.”

“Where was the new attack?”

“By the Burial Complex.”

Jiang Cheng's eyes widen. The Burial Complex is a name given to a set of apartments on the outskirts of Gusu. Calling it an apartment is a stretch; it looks more like cemetery—and even the dead don't deserve to live in such a shitty place. It's actually called the Garnet Complex, although the Burial Complex is more fitting according to the general public.

It also happens to be the apartments Wei Ying lives in.

He clenches his fists, saying nothing.

“I'll send out extra patrols there for now in case something happens again.”

Jiang Cheng still doesn't say anything, but he hates the sigh of relief he almost gives out. He glares at the reports on the desk. It's the other people in those apartments he's worried about. He couldn't give a damn about Wei Ying.

Nie Mingjue finally looks up, as if just realising he's been there all along. “Get to work. You better make up for the time you're late.”

Jiang Cheng is thankful for the order. He stiffly nods and leaves the room, hoping his shift will actually lighten his mood. Today started off as a travesty; he can only pray the rest of the day is decent.

 

- x -

 

Jingyi is a bit too excited to be going out today. Wangji clearly stated they are only doing it to borrow some books from his brother's library, but Jingyi's brain has translated this to a 'school field trip' as he insists of calling it. He is practically bouncing around the city, dragging Sizhui to stare at the window displays with him.

Wangji almost reprimands them. He stops when he sees the large smiles on their faces, keeping his reminder of the Cloud Recesses' four thousand and nineteen rules to himself. It is truly strange how times have changed. Their sect valued wisdom and maturity beyond your years, but Wangji is starting to think that perhaps letting these children live out their childhood is not such a heinous thing either.

Regardless, he draws the line when Jingyi asks if they can enter a shop that has posters of computerised men carrying unrealistically large swords. There are also other posters of women, also carrying large weapons. The difference is that they are barely clothed at all. Wangji narrows his eyes at the flimsy material that is supposed to protect them in battle. Completely unrealistic.

“But it's just a game,” Jingyi tells him. “And big swords are cool! The bigger the better!”

Wangji shakes his head. That is not true. While the Qinghe Nie Sect used to boast carrying their large sabers, that did not necessarily mean they were better. If anything, they were only more dangerous.

Even so, not even their sabers were this size. Wangji is not at all impressed with this computerised man's nine foot long katana.

“It is unnecessary,” Wangji says. “Silly.”

Jingyi almost looks disgusted with him. “I can't believe you're dissing Sephiroth.”

“How does he even lift it up?” Sizhui asks, eyes wide.

“It's a game,” Jingyi groans again. “You don't need to think about stuff like that!”

Wangji will never understand these so called games. Perhaps with some cultivation, it will be possible to lift that sword—but why would you even wish to own one of that size? It will just get in the way. An average length sword will be just as capable, if not better.

It is not only the long sword that is bothering Wangji, but also this man's strange appearance. He has only one wing. Clearly he is not a cultivator if he requires wings to fly, but why would he only have one? It is physically impossible to fly with only one wing.

Perhaps he is a cultivator and the strange one winged design is indeed just that; a design. If that is the case, then Wangji is even more unimpressed. These gaudy accessories will only get in the way if you were to have a real battle.

Shaking his head once more, he turns away from the ridiculous posters.

“A waste of time,” he says. “Let us go.”

He can hear Jingyi groaning that he wants to play on some Playing Stations, but he pays him no mind. The rest of their journey to Xichen's library is devoid of detours or distractions, much to Wangji's relief.

When they arrive there, it is still closed despite Xichen's library usually opening at nine in the morning. It is now five past ten.

Wangji does not sense his brother in the building. Could he still be at home, perhaps asleep?

They wait for a few minutes. Wangji does not mind the winter air that hits them, his immortal body unperturbed by the elements, but the same cannot be said for both teenagers with him. Sizhui's cheeks have gotten red and he buries half of his face under his scarf in a futile attempt to warm himself up.

Silently, Wangji unravels his own scarf and winds it around Sizhui's neck as well, saying nothing when he looks up in surprise.

“Dad, aren't you cold?”

“I am fine.”

“I'm not,” Jingyi whines, breathing into his palms. “Aaw, shit, it's freezing!”

Wangji narrows his eyes. “Language.”

“Aaw, heck, it's freezing!”

He can only sigh. Wangji takes off his gloves and gives them to Jingyi, unsurprised they do not fit him at all. The gloves almost slip off him but Jingyi clasps his hands together, grinning up at Wangji.

“I thought Uncle opened his library by now?” Sizhui asks. His voice is muffled by the two scarves currently swallowing him.

Jingyi shivers, wrapping his jacket tighter around himself. “Can he hurry up? I'm freezing my balls off.”

Wangji closes his eyes, choosing instead to ignore that horrifying sentence rather than tell Jingyi off. He considers calling Xichen but he does not want to disturb him if he is indeed still asleep. It is rare his brother ever sleeps properly during the evening.

He does not have to ponder for long. He senses Xichen before he hears his rushed footsteps. When he turns around, his brother offers him a sheepish smile and roots out his keys from his coat pocket.

“Sorry, were you waiting long?”

Wangji shakes his head. “Not too long. You are late?”

“The lift in my apartment broke.”

Xichen opens the door, letting the two shivering teenagers enter first. The smell of books is strong when Wangji steps inside. He takes a deep breath of it, allowing himself to think back to days of staying in the Library Pavilion, cradling books to his chest and listening to the sacred silence of home.

This library is nowhere near as large as their Pavilion, but it brings Wangji the same comfort. It is a homely place, and he recognises a few of the tapestries Xichen has placed around the room. There are paintings on the walls as well. Wangji suspects Xichen painted them, although there are also some that he does not recognise to be his brother's style. Xichen travelled from place to place; the different assortment of trinkets and ornaments lying around the library is a clear indication of that.

He strokes the books on the shelves. None of their ancient books and scrolls will be here, at least not the original copies. After the Cloud Recesses was burned down before the Sunshot Campaign, Xichen gathered as many of their precious books as he could and fled. But even those cannot survive time, not after two thousand long years.

Nevertheless, his brother has made new copies of them. Of course, he would not keep them in a public library, thus they are safely hidden in Xichen's home.

Even if he were to keep them in this library, it is not as if it will mean anything to today's society. Many will think of the musical scores as another language, and the ancient texts to be some sort of fairy tale story rather than actual fact. Regardless, they keep them hidden for the sake of keeping what little traditions they have left. It is only him and Xichen left who can still do this. Sentimentalities aside, they do not wish to disrespect their roots, even if it does mean nothing to everyone now.

“Wow, Uncle, the place looks great. Did you collect all these books?” Sizhui asks. Wangji sees the child-like wonder in his eyes as he looks through one of the older books, stroking its aged pages.

Xichen smiles at him, taking off his coat. “Yes, I found most of them along my travels. Please, feel free to read them.”

He takes his place by the counter, neatly laying his things on the table before looking up at Wangji. “Wangji, do you need anything? Or are you just visiting?”

Wangji nods at Jingyi, who is currently about to prod a large statue on the nose. He grabs the teenager's arm and stops him in time.

“Music books for Jingyi.”

Xichen motions towards the left corner of the room. “Take as much as you need.”

While Jingyi is slowly, but steadily, beginning to get the grasp of playing the piano, Lan Qiren also requested that he learnt about the history and fundamentals of music. He is, of course, asking for the impossible. It has taken Wangji almost an entire month to teach Jingyi how to sit properly. It will take him another thousand years to teach him music theory.

But he will entertain his uncle and see if he can create some sort of miracle. Wangji pulls out various books, dropping them into Jingyi's arms until he can no longer see his face. Jingyi wobbles on the spot, trying in vain to balance all of the books he is carrying.

“Uncle, isn't this enough?” he whines.

Wangji looks down at him. One more book will not hurt...

His phone vibrates. He ignores Jingyi's whining and takes it out, eyebrows rising when he sees it is Wei Ying.

Good morning? Has he only just woken up now? Wangji recalls that Wei Ying had the bad habit of rising at nine in the morning. It is now half ten; even he was not this bad back then.

“Uncle, my arms are literally about to fall off.”

Wangji returns his phone back into his pocket, sparing a glance at Jingyi. He has completely forgotten about him.

“Let us go,” Wangji says, taking the books into his arms. They weigh nothing to him. Wangji thinks Jingyi should start doing Gusu Lan's infamous handstand exercises again.

“Oi, Sizhui, time to go!” Jingyi calls.

Sizhui, who has been too busy reading by himself all along, jumps. He closes the book in his hands and returns it to the shelf, making his way back to the counter.

Xichen looks up at him as he is placing Wangji's books in a bag. “Oh, yes. Sizhui, before you go. I have been meaning to ask you if you would like to work part time here?”

The teenager points to himself. “Me?”

“Yes, just over the weekend. I will pay you, of course.”

Sizhui turns to Wangji, a silent question in his eyes. Xichen has already discussed this with him earlier this week and he sees no harm in it. Sizhui has always enjoyed reading; no doubt he will not even view this as a job. Wangji nods, eyes softening when Sizhui's face lights up with a large beam.

“Uncle, I'd love to! I promise I'll work hard!”

Xichen laughs. “I know you will.”

“I can start now?”

Eager as always.

“Oh no, enjoy your Saturday,” Xichen says. He hands the bag of books to Wangji. “You can start tomorrow, if you would like?”

“Okay!”

With that, they say farewell to Xichen.

There is more people outside now, all wrapped in thick coats and scarves as they struggle to make their way through the strong winter breeze. Already, Jingyi is beginning to shiver again. Perhaps he would not be as cold if he actually wore a thicker coat.

“I'm hungry...” he mumbles. “Uncle, let's go somewhere warm and eat lunch before we head back. Please?”

Sizhui nods with him.

The only place Wangji can remember is the café Wei Ying took him to. Coincidentally, it is also nearby Xichen's library. It is significantly busier now that it is nearing lunch time, but they manage to find a vacant table by the window.

Like last time, Wen Ning is by the counter. Wei Ying told Wangji he needed to do his groceries, therefore he did not expect him to be here, but it does not stop the slight disappointment he feels when that is indeed the case.

Wen Ning looks up from where he is standing. He does not manage to hide the recognition in his eyes and quickly looks away when he realises Wangji is staring back at him. There is a woman who is sitting in front of the counter, and she looks over her shoulder to glance at Wangji as well. She is familiar, but Wangji cannot say her face is one has seen a lot of times. Her long, brown hair is tied up into a high ponytail, and the expression she has on her face is one that will probably seem unapproachable to most.

“Is that him?” He hears her asking Wen Ning, who is still avoiding Wangji's gaze. Wen Ning gives a quick nod.

Wangji is unable to ignore the feeling they are talking about him. As to why, he cannot guess. Shaking his head to himself, he stops listening to their conversation and returns his focus on the two teenagers in front of him. It is only now he sees that Jingyi has written a whole list.

“Here's my order, Uncle,” he says.

His handwriting is barely legible, and even then, most of these words mean nothing to Wangji. He sighs loudly and turns to Sizhui. Fortunately, his order is reasonable, unlike Jingyi's.

He can still feel the woman's eyes on him as he walks towards the counter. Wen Ning, on the other hand, literally jumps when he is in front of him. His eyes are wide, waiting for Wangji to speak. He keeps wiping the dish in his hand with a tea towel, although it is already clean enough one can see their reflection on it.

“One large black coffee, and one medium caramel latte,” he says.

Then, he takes out Jingyi's list and begins to read it out in a flat tone.

“And a large caramel frappuccino with two teaspoons of vanilla powder, semi-skimmed milk, one teaspoon of chocolate powder, a light sprinkle of cinnamon powder, two pumps of chocolate syrup, five pumps of caramel syrup, two pumps of vanilla syrup, two pumps of strawberry syrup, dark chocolate swirls, extra whipped cream, extra butterscotch, and marshmallows on top.”

Wen Ning has stopped wiping the dishes. He stares at Wangji with an open mouth. Next to him, the woman is also silent, eyes wide as the plate Wen Ning is holding.

“Um,” Wen Ning mumbles. “One... One large black coffee... One medium caramel latte... And... C-Could you... Um. Could you... give that piece of paper to me... instead, Sir?”

Wangji gives him Jingyi's list with a sigh. Wen Ning squints at it, very much looking like he is in pain simply reading its contents.

“Is there... anything else?” he asks hesitantly.

Nodding, Wangji points at the cakes Sizhui and Jingyi requested.

“AND I WANT A BISCUIT WITH MY DRINK TOO, PLEASE!” Jingyi yells across the café, causing several other customers to spasm at the sheer volume of his voice.

Wen Ning slowly nods, still staring at Jingyi's list as if it is in another language. “I'll bring your order when it is done, Sir...”

Wangji pays for everything. A hand taps the counter and stops him before he returns to his table. He looks up, catching a closer glimpse of the woman.

“Mr. Lan, was it? Wei Ying told me about you.”

This close, he recognises her voice as well now. It sounds exactly like the voice he heard over the phone yesterday.

“You were the woman with him over the phone?”

She nods, smiling. “Yes. I'm Wen Qing. I'm a doctor here.”

Wen Qing. Now, Wangji remembers her. She is that woman who stayed with Wei Ying in the Burial Mounds. Wangji's meetings with her were scarce and few, but he knew more of her through rumours. She was one of the top medics of their generation, famed for saving many lives and allowing miracles to happen. It makes sense she is a doctor in this lifetime.

“I am Lan Wangji, a music tutor.”

Her smile widens. There is a glint in her dark green eyes that Wangji does not expect. “Sorry about yesterday. Wei Ying was so eager to talk to you.”

“He was?”

He cannot imagine that, especially now. He manages to keep his composure, but his heart blooms at the slightest mention of Wei Ying displaying any form of interest.

“Oh yes. He can be shy so forgive him if it gets difficult to talk to him.”

Wangji nods once. “He has been texting me.”

Wen Qing's eyebrows raise. “Really? Since when?”

“Last night.”

“Oh?” She leans back on her chair, taking a sip of her tea. “Is he still texting you now?”

Wangji nods again.

Just then, Wen Ning returns with a large tray. He slides it over to Wangji with a timid smile. “Here is your order, Sir.”

“Let me help you with that,” Wen Qing says, taking the tray instead. She rises, looking around the café. “Your table is over there, right?”

She is already walking towards it before Wangji can nod. He is slightly confused as to why she is helping, and even more so when she sits down by their table too. Cautiously, Wangji takes his seat, keeping his eyes on her and waiting for an explanation.

He does not get one.

“Who's this?” Jingyi asks, reaching for his drink. Wangji does not think a frappuccino should be a colour of murky green, but Jingyi does not show any signs of distress when he takes one large sip of it.

“I'm your teacher's best friend,” Wen Qing says.

Sizhui tilts his head. “Teacher Wei?”

Wen Qing nods. “Seeing as Mr. Lan and Wei Ying have been getting friendly, I thought I should introduce myself.”

That seems to catch Jingyi's attention. He sits up. The grin inching up his face unnerves Wangji. “Getting friendly? Oh. Did he actually use the number?”

For some reason, Wen Qing looks shocked. “Wait, were you the kid who gave him the number?”

Jingyi lets out a loud cackle and smacks his palm on the table, making all of their drinks shudder. Around them, the other customers are scowling. “I can't believe he actually used it!”

Wen Qing is laughing now too.

Meanwhile, Sizhui's jaw drops. He stares between Wangji and Jingyi. “You gave my dad's number to our teacher?!”

Wangji was confused at first, but that pieces everything for him. He slowly turns to the loud teenager, his eyes colder than any blizzard. Outside the café, the breeze strengthens. There is a sudden gust of air that makes all of the trees groan and the customers of the café to gasp, wondering what on earth is wrong with the weather today.

“Lan Jingyi,” he says, clenching his fists.

Jingyi lets out a tiny squeak. He shrinks into himself and actually tries to hide behind his drink. “H-Hey! Don't look at me like that! I-It worked, didn't it?”

He slurps up his frappuccino very loudly, looking everywhere but Wangji's direction.

“I was just trying to help!” he continues. “You swiped right at him on Tinder so I thought you'd appreciate it!”

Wen Qing lets out another laugh. “Be thankful for the kid. Wei Ying doesn't go on Tinder anymore, so he would have never spoken with you through that.”

He is still not pleased that Jingyi would meddle with something like this, but she is right that he would have never been able to speak with Wei Ying had it not been for that... Wangji narrows his eyes at Jingyi one last time and then takes a large sip of his coffee.

“Has he spoken with you today?” Wen Qing asks. “Tell him I said hi.”

Wangji checks his phone again. The last text Wei Ying sent him was when he said he would talk to him later.

He sends a quick message to tell Wei Ying his friend is here.

“Actually,” Wen Qing says. “Give me that.”

She grabs Wangji's phone from his hands, catching him off guard. He does not know what to do as she uses it, therefore opts to watch what she is writing instead. Sizhui, who is sitting by her other side, also cranes his head to see the screen. Jingyi is far too busy eating his cheesecake.

Wangji's eyebrows furrow. What does she mean by that?

Wen Qing gives his phone back to him with a smirk. She ignores Wangji's questioning gaze and returns to drinking the rest of her tea. All Wangji can do is stare at the texts she sent. Was that okay? Should he have given his phone to her?

He is still pondering when he hears the café door slamming open. Again, the customers in the café jump, now muttering complains under their breath. But that is the last thing Wangji is focusing on now.

His eyes widen at who has arrived. Wei Ying.

The teacher actually runs to their table, grabbing onto Jingyi's chair and panting when he reaches them. He points a finger at Wen Qing, scowling, but is still struggling to catch his breath.

“Wei Ying! Fancy seeing you here!” Wen Qing's tone is too happy to be considered genuine.

“Lan... Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying takes another deep breath. “Don't listen to a word she says!”

Wen Qing feigns a gasp. “I've said nothing! Mr. Lan and I were just chatting, weren't we?”

Wangji looks between the two of them. He is still surprised Wei Ying has appeared out of nowhere, and he will have to admit he is entirely lost as to what this conversation is about. All he can see is that Wei Ying has not stopped glaring at his friend, although Wen Qing meets it with smug carelessness.

“She has said nothing,” Wangji says. It is true, anyway.

It takes a while for Wei Ying to stop panting. After a long while, he sits down on the vacant seat next to Wangji, his eyes still fixed on Wen Qing.

None of them move. The first person to break the silence is Jingyi, who takes another loud slurp of his drink.

Wangji takes this moment to turn to Wei Ying, noting the beanie hat that is lopsided on his head. His cheeks are red, most likely from the cold weather, and he is unwinding a black scarf around his neck. When he takes his hat off, his hair stands in all sorts of directions.

“Wei Ying, what are you doing here?” Wen Qing asks.

The teacher sends her another scowl, combing his fingers through his hair. “I should be asking you that question.”

Her smile does not falter. “Aren't you even going to order something?”

"No."

There is more silence. Jingyi has now finished all of his drink and has resorted to filling his mouth with all the cakes he asked for. Sizhui, however, is quietly staring at all of the adults, looking quite lost.

“Well,” Wei Ying says. There is a smile on his face but it does not reach his eyes. “This is nice.”

The way he says it makes Wangji think he means the opposite.

“Anyway. Wen Qing, aren't you busy this weekend?” Wei Ying asks his friend.

“No, I'm on holiday. Aren't you busy this weekend?”

“No. I'm just doing my groceries.”

It is as if they are having a conversation meant only for them. Wangji does not necessarily mind; he continues to gaze at Wei Ying, admiring every expression that flickers on his face. His cheeks are no longer flushed and his hair is neater, but there is still that strand that refuses to follow his parting. Every time Wei Ying moves, Wangji catches the smell of lotus flowers.

Wen Qing shakes her head. “You and your shitty cooking.”

“It's only shitty because you don't like spicy food.”

She waves a dismissive hand and turns to Wangji instead. “Mr. Lan, can you cook?”

Wangji nods.

“Hey, how good is he at cooking?” Wen Qing asks Sizhui.

“Very good. Dad always cooks the best and healthiest meals," Sizhui tells her.

He says that, but Wangji knows if Sizhui had to choose between his or Xichen's cooking, the teenager will choose his brother's. Xichen and Sizhui shared the same love for desserts. Sizhui is always elated whenever Xichen makes time to bake for him.

Wen Qing slowly nods, tapping her chin. “Healthy is always good. Mr. Lan, you should cook for Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying somehow manages to choke on nothing. “What?”

“I do not mind,” Wangji says.

“Teacher Wei, you should come round for dinner some time! Dad cooks the best food!” Sizhui adds, nodding eagerly.

“Eh?” Wei Ying is vigorously shaking his head. “I-I'm busy—”

“You said you weren't busy this weekend, right?” Jingyi reminds him, spewing cake crumbs everywhere. “So come round tomorrow!”

With the two teenagers and Wen Qing all grinning eagerly at Wei Ying, Wangji guesses this is why he has started to flush. He looks away, his bottom lip slightly pouting.

“W-What... Yeah, but...” Wei Ying sneaks a glance at Wangji, quickly looking away once their eyes meet. “But Mr. Lan, you don't want me over, right? I'll just be disturbing you. There's no need.”

He shakes his head. “It is no trouble.”

Wei Ying still won't meet his gaze. “I can't just go round to your house...”

“Why not?” Wen Qing asks, shrugging. “It's just dinner. Why are you making such a big deal about it?”

Wei Ying sends another glare at her. At this point, Wangji is questioning how they are friends if all Wei Ying has done since he has arrived here is scowl at the woman.

“Well, if Lan Zhan doesn't mind then... Then I'm not going to say no to free food...”

Wangji can feel his heart warming. He takes a drink out of his coffee, nodding slightly.

“Tomorrow then.”

He is not sure if he is imagining it, but Wei Ying's cheeks flush slightly when he nods back.

 

- x -

 

Wangji offers to drive Wei Ying back to his apartment once they part ways. After more encouragement from Wen Qing, Wei Ying agrees while grumbling under his breath that he really needs to learn how to drive.

“Lan Zhan, you don't have to cook for me tomorrow if you don't want to...” Wei Ying says, laying his head against the window. “Wen Qing can be very... assertive. In fact, you can just cancel now. I am perfectly fine feeding myself.”

“I want to,” Wangji says.

“Oh.”

He is eager to see more of Wei Ying, but his hesitance also worries him. Gripping the wheel tighter, Wangji spares one glance at him when the traffic lights flash red.

“You do not have to come if you do not want—”

“No. It's not that I don't want to...” Wei Ying's words are a sudden relief. “I just... I just wanted to make sure I won't be a burden. I mean, we hardly know each other and you already give me a lot of lifts... And now you're cooking me dinner... You must think I can't do anything by myself.”

Wangji's eyebrows furrow together. Is that what he is worrying about?

He recalls Wei Ying's worrying obsession with repaying those he cared for. Wei Ying did not hesitate to destroy himself, just for the futile goal of sacrificing all he had for the Jiang family. Even then, it had all been for nothing. They turned their backs on him once they could no longer understand his emotions. Jiang Cheng, who was once a brother to Wei Ying, led him to his own death. Wei Ying died believing he was alone, that he was hated, and that he had done nothing but hurt the people he loved.

“You have never been a burden,” Wangji says. He wishes he told that to Wei Ying much, much earlier. That he never gave up trying to convince Wei Ying.

“Huh?” Wei Ying sits up, frowning at him. “Lan Zhan, the traffic lights.”

They have turned green. Wangji continues driving, all the while feeling Wei Ying's skeptical eyes on him.

“You... You are not a burden,” he repeats.

“If you say so.” Wei Ying laughs softly. “Are you sure though? Like I said, I don't mind going round to yours if it's just dinner, but I don't want you to feel like you have to—”

“Wei Ying. It is fine.”

He hears him breathing in. Wei Ying claps his hands together and sways left to right on his seat. Wangji does not know what he is doing, but he enjoys watching him from the corner of his eyes.

“So. Dinner tomorrow then? For definite?”

“Yes.”

The thought of Wei Ying visiting his house is an impossible concept. Wangji feels like this is all a dream.

“Just a question... You don't have a pet dog, do you?”

Wangji does not expect that question. They have no dogs in the house, but he has been keeping a few rabbits as he has always done for all these years. Sizhui even has a pet hamster.

“No. Why?”

Wei Ying coughs. “Nothing... I, uh, I'm allergic to dogs”

He is clearly lying. Wangji has not forgotten his phobia of dogs. It seems he may have kept it even in this incarnation.

“Hey, what's with that look? Are you actually smiling?”

Wangji relaxes his face, turning to the teacher with his usual expressionless gaze. Wei Ying scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Do not worry. There are no dogs in my house.”

“Who said I was worried?”

Wangji says nothing more, but he can feel his lips tugging into another rare smile. He allows it to happen, content with spending the rest of this car journey in silence. When they arrive at their destination, the elation Wangji is feeling dies down as Wei Ying turns to leave. He has to remind himself he will see him again tomorrow, and hopefully the day after that, and many more days from now on.

“I'll... I'll see you tomorrow then,” Wei Ying says, one foot already out of the door. “Actually, wait. Text me your address so I know where to go.”

Wangji shakes his head. “I will pick you up.”

“Wow, Lan Zhan. Free food and a lift? You're spoiling me. Around five PM then? Is that okay with you?”

“Yes.”

“Right. See you tomorrow then.”

Wei Ying flashes him one last smile before stepping out of the car. Wangji watches him until he disappears, and even then he stays where he is, parked there outside this dilapidated building.

After some time, Jingyi pulls himself up from where he is sat in the back seat.

“So,” he says. “Are you two like... dating now?”

“Sshh!” Sizhui pulls him back.

Wangji ignores both of them. He drives back to his house, his spirits lighter knowing that, tomorrow, Wei Ying will be there as well.

 

- x -

 

Xichen is glad the elevator is in working order once again. No problems arise when he uses it on his way back from work, which he is very thankful for. He is in need of a long, relaxing bath after today. His job as a librarian is not very busy, but it is still tiring when his body continues to deny him sleep.

Eager for any form of rest, Xichen unlocks his front door.

“You there! Criminal!”

Somehow, he manages to stop the sigh that almost escapes him. Lo and behold, Jiang Cheng is there when he turns around. Xichen has to wonder if going home from work is now a crime. As luck would permit it, Jiang Cheng apparently lives nearby. While he does not mind the short tempered young man, Xichen is not looking forward to constantly being treated like a criminal if this carries on.

Jiang Cheng appearing out of nowhere to scream at him was not expected this afternoon. What is also more unexpected is that he has brought someone along. Xichen recognises it to be Young Master Jin Ling, even though his hair is shorter and he no longer has the vermilion mark that the Jins painted on their forehead. He is staring at both of them with an unhappy pout.

Xichen really has no clue as to why Jiang Cheng felt the need to bring Jin Ling along with him here.

He also has no idea why Jiang Cheng is yelling at him again. He faces the younger officer and does his best to give him a polite smile.

“Officer, I have a name,” he says.

“And you also have the sword!”

Xichen blinks. “Excuse me?”

“The sword! It's been taken! I know you took it!”

Ah. So the police station has found out Shuoyue is missing. Xichen expected as much, but he did not quite expect to find Jiang Cheng chasing after him with his nephew in tow.

Nevertheless, there is no evidence to suggest Xichen has done it. He has made sure they will not be seen on their cameras. Wangji's little blunder did mean that one officer saw them, but Xichen is sure that the knock to his head would have made him forget the details. Furthermore, they were still concealed by the shadows when it happened. The officer could not have seen them clearly even if he did remember.

“I do not know what you are talking about,” he says. “Are you saying my sword has been taken?”

Jiang Cheng's dark eyes narrow. “You're lying!”

Sighing, Xichen unlocks his door and opens it for the officer to look inside. Shuoyue is still hidden inside his qiankun bag. Jiang Cheng will not find it even if he were to turn his entire apartment upside down.

“Officer, feel free to search my apartment if you think I have taken it,” he says.

Xichen did not literally mean it. He was hoping Jiang Cheng would forget about it once he saw how resolute he was, but he should have known the officer is not someone to give up that easily.

Jiang Cheng does not hesitate in entering his apartment, all the while dragging Jin Ling along.

Xichen's bath will have to wait then. He shakes his head to himself and follows the officer. Really, it is his own fault for suggesting this, but he did not think Jiang Cheng would take that as permission to enter his apartment. Xichen watches in silence as Jiang Cheng roots through every room, not once letting go of the whining Jin Ling right behind him.

They reach Xichen's study. As expected, Jiang Cheng scrutinises the display of various bows and arrows on the wall. Xichen has never used them properly, only keeping them as a memento of when he participated in the archery competitions the sects used to have.

“More weapons!” Jiang Cheng says, pointing at each offending bow.

“They are just for display, Officer,” Xichen tells him. “Are you going to confiscate them too?”

On the other hand, Jin Ling is gazing up at them with large eyes. His scowl is gone for the moment, replaced with curiosity.

“They're cool...” he mumbles.

“Jin Ling, shut up.”

Just like that, the teenager's face contorts back into a scowl, mirroring his uncle's. Xichen can only let out another sigh.

Luckily, Jiang Cheng does not rip out the bows on display. Xichen is in shock when he leaves the room, only with a quiet huff as he forgets about the bows. Their next destination is the living room and the kitchen. Xichen leaves Jiang Cheng to do his job.

As much as he enjoys watching the officer quite literally messing up his entire apartment, Xichen is tired and in need of a warm cup of tea. He makes his way to the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to stop boiling as he listens to the sound of Jiang Cheng searching under his couch. His mad search has resulted in him letting go of Jin Ling, who is now stomping over to the kitchen as well.

The teenager's eyes stop on a tray of cookies Xichen made last night instead of sleeping. He then looks at Xichen.

Smiling, Xichen nods. “Take as much as you want.”

Jin Ling grins, grabbing a handful of the cookies. He's in the middle of shoving one of them into his mouth when Jiang Cheng is screaming across the room once more.

“Oi, Jin Ling! What the fuck are you doing accepting food from him!”

Jin Ling throws a glare over his shoulder, still munching. “I'm hungry! I thought you were supposed to give me dinner!”

“Don't eat the fucking cookies!”

“There's nothing wrong with these cookies! I'm hungry!”

As if to prove a point, Jin Ling grabs even more cookies. He has almost eaten most of them in the space of three minutes. Before he can shove one more into his mouth, Jiang Cheng drags him off the chair and smacks him on the back.

Xichen pours hot water into his cup, stirring his tea while watching the uncle and nephew bickering with each other. He looks at the time. How long do they plan on staying here exactly? He wants a rest.

“Officer, will that be it?” Xichen asks, raising his voice so he can be heard over their squabble. “You're welcome to some cookies as well—”

“No. We're going! But don't think this is over!”

Xichen follows them as Jiang Cheng pushes Jin Ling out of the apartment. Before he leaves, Jiang Cheng spins around to narrow his eyes at him one last time. He is thankful Jiang Cheng has not confiscated anything and he is not being arrested today, but the officer has kindly left his apartment in a mess. Behind Xichen, it looks like a tornado has ripped through his home.

“Goodbye, Officer,” Xichen says, forcing another smile that he knows only irritates the man even more.

Jiang Cheng doesn't say anything else. He leaves, disappearing so fast that if it weren't for the mess that is now Xichen's apartment, he would have thought he hallucinated the whole thing to begin with.

Tired, he returns inside his apartment. He will tidy all this later... That can be a task to do after midnight when sleep decides to evade him again. For now, Xichen sidesteps through all the scattered cushions and finds a spot on the couch Jiang Cheng did not disrupt. He sits down, sipping his cup of tea while flickering through all the different channels on TV.

It is silent times like this that Xichen wishes he took Wangji's offer in living with him and Sizhui instead. He loves spending time with his brother and his nephew, but he does not want to disturb them. Last night, Xichen resorted to baking for four hours because he could not fall asleep. Surely, Wangji will not appreciate that.

He yawns. There is nothing good on TV either. Maybe he should start on tidying all this up instead...

“We're back with our special guest for tonight, Jin Guangyao!”

Xichen splutters out his tea. He fumbles with the remote to change back onto the previous channel, dropping it when he sees a smile he thought he would never see again. His heart is thundering behind his ribs and the taste of the tea has gone stale. Jin Guangyao is on his TV screen, smiling at the camera. It's the same smile that always used to comfort Xichen, the same smile that fooled him for many years.

He cannot hear what they are saying. Xichen only realises now he is having trouble breathing, that he is shaking and his eyes are stinging. He places the cup of tea on the table and clenches his fists, trying to differentiate between this Jin Guangyao and the one who betrayed him.

Jin Guangyao laughs at something the interviewer has said. Xichen is brought back to the time his life was engulfed in flames and Meng Yao calmed him with a gentle smile. This Jin Guangyao's hair is not quite as long, but his features are as soft as Xichen remembers them. There is no black felt hat symbolising his status, and no vermilion mark at his forehead. If Xichen ignores the ache in his heart, he can tell himself this is another person.

“I just wanted to say congratulations on your nomination for this year's TV Drama Awards,” the interviewer says. “For your case especially, it must be quite surreal.”

Jin Guangyao nods. There is a certain grace he has kept, but the way his eyes light up at what the interviewer is saying reminds Xichen of when he was still Meng Yao.

“Yes, of course. Not so long ago, I was still dreaming about becoming an actor and now I'm suddenly being nominated for an awards show? It still baffles me.”

“Well, you must be very happy.”

“I am, I am. It's like a dream come true.”

The camera pans onto him smiling again. He has worn many masks and charmed many victims with that same smile. Yet, there is something about this one that makes Xichen think it is real. Jin Guangyao is an actor in this lifetime, and he is happy. He says his dreams have come true. The public seems to love him and he does not look like he is suffering. Maybe this is the life Jin Guangyao has always wanted. Maybe he has not been corrupted by society in this lifetime, and his happiness has preserved more of Meng Yao than the manipulative mastermind that Xichen failed to realise.

Watching him now, Xichen feels the pain he has been suppressing threaten to burst forth again. He has never hated Jin Guangyao, not even after he found out all of his misdeeds. He cannot bring himself to hate him now, not when he has never seen him look so happy.

His sworn brothers are alive right now. Both of them do not know who he is, and both of them are perfectly content without him in their lives. If anything, they are faring better without him.

Xichen turns the TV off. He sits in silence for a while, unable to decipher if he wants to laugh, or cry, or scream. He wants to ask himself what he is supposed to do now, as if that is not a futile question to begin with. He does not know why he is still here, pretending to live a normal life and fooling no one but himself that he is okay with an empty existence such as this. What is he supposed to do now? What is there left to do, when there is nothing and no one for him?

He has stopped shaking and his eyes have stared at the table for so long that it now looks foreign. When he looks up, he sees the view of the city outside his window.

The sun is setting, but it is hidden beneath the thick clouds. Xichen cannot see anything beyond this mist; not the city, and certainly not what lies for him in the future.