Breakfast, as usual, is quiet. Wangji silently flickers through the newspaper, his eyes skimming each article with little interest. Human affairs do not matter to him, less so their excitement with celebrities or trends he has never managed to understand. He does not even spare a glance at the articles about new films and drama shows. Jingyi will end up telling him all about them anyway, rather than actually playing the piano as Wangji will request him to.
At this point, Wangji has lost hope in reaching his uncle's expectations of what he wants from Jingyi. He will have to talk to him about discontinuing Jingyi's lessons—not that it will stop the teenager from barging into his house every weekend to pester Sizhui.
Wangji takes a quick sip of his coffee, reading through one article. Trouble in the Nightless City, the title reads, catching him off guard.
He soon finds it is nothing to worry about. The Nightless City now, it seems, is a large casino in Qishan. Nothing like the grandeur residence of the Wens, where the sun apparently never set, and where their flames burned too bright even for them. Wangji quickly reads through the article, skipping most of the details. The casino has only opened recently, although it is already popular among celebrities and the rich. Perhaps the only thing it has in common with the original Nightless City is that this casino is attracting trouble too, with fights and disputes happening within its halls almost everyday.
But that is what happens when you gather the greedy together. Wangji shakes his head to himself. Humanity and its thirst for material possessions is what he hates the most about modern society. With a sigh, he puts the newspaper down.
Sizhui looks up from his breakfast. “Dad... How are you?”
Wangji raises an eyebrow.
“...I don't mean to pry but aren't you talking to Teacher Wei anymore?”
He takes a slow gulp of his drink. No, would be the answer to that. Not in two weeks. Wei Ying has not sent him a single text and Wangji does not want to disturb him. They cross paths whenever he needs to pick Sizhui up from school, but their quick greetings are empty and awkward, at best. Wei Ying's smile never reaches his eyes.
Wangji shakes his head.
“Oh,” Sizhui says, shoulders slumping. “I thought...”
“It is nothing.”
That is what he tries to convince himself anyway. As long as Wei Ying is safe, then this is enough. Wei Ying has never belonged to him; Wangji has no right to try and change this fate.
Sizhui lets out a sigh, pushing his bowl away from him. He has not finished his breakfast today.
“What is wrong?” Wangji asks.
For some reason, the teenager refuses to meet his eyes. It is rare for Sizhui to mumble, let alone fidget like this. Wangji hears him taking a breath before finally speaking.
“Dad, I know you've lived for a long time...”
Wangji frowns. This is new. Sizhui never talks about this. The only time they have discussed Wangji's immortality was when a nine year old Sizhui first asked about it. Wangji was beginning to think he had forgotten about it after all these years.
That, or he wanted to maintain a normal life despite his father figure being immortal.
“I want you to be happy,” Sizhui says. He hesitantly meets Wangji's eyes, cautious.
How many times has he come across Sizhui's incarnations? How many times has he taken him in? Sometimes, when Wangji looks at him, he sees the polite disciple he used to be; sword in one hand and a talisman in the other. Sometimes, he sees him much younger, under a different name; his smile as wide as Wei Ying's once was.
Wangji has not thought about it for some time. Why does he continue to take in Sizhui, even after every version of him eventually moves on? He has lost count of the amount of times Sizhui grows up before his very eyes. He does not even count their goodbyes. If Sizhui does not question the fact he never ages, then Wangji will maintain the act until he must leave.
He hates leaving the most, but there is some comfort in Sizhui being old enough to take care of himself, finding happiness in other people who can age with him.
He wonders how he will say goodbye to Sizhui this time.
He wonders if he will have to say goodbye to Wei Ying as well. If he can do that.
Wangji is the first to break eye contact. Thinking about this gets him nowhere.
“I don't understand a lot of things and I don't want to bring up anything that may be painful but...” Sizhui pauses for a second. “Is Teacher Wei someone you used to know?”
A flash of a grin, laughter echoing in his ears. It's gone in seconds and all he sees are red eyes looking back at him; cold, uncaring.
“...Yes,” Wangji says.
Sizhui leans a little bit closer. “Were you two close?”
Wangji swallows the lump in his throat. “A bit.”
They were closer than they are now, at least. Wei Ying does not even consider him an acquaintance anymore.
“Dad... You know what they say? The body remembers what the mind has forgotten,” Sizhui says. His face spreads into a small smile. “I'm sure everything will fall into place.”
There is hope in Sizhui's eyes that Wangji will consider naĂŻve, and still, he takes his words to heart. The body remembers what the mind has forgotten. If Wei Ying remembers, is that a good thing? Wei Ying's memories are filled with pain and suffering. Wangji only wants nothing but happiness for him.
He remembers their last encounter; the way Wei Ying's eyes clouded as if he saw something Wangji did not.
Have we met before?
Wangji's heart lurched at those words. He had grabbed Wei Ying then, desperate to see some recognition in his eyes—but there was nothing. Completely nothing. Wei Ying walked away from him and Wangji let him. Again. It is the only thing he can do.
“By the way... It's parent's evening later.”
He looks up. Sizhui is gathering his things for school.
“I am aware,” he says.
“You don't have to go if you don't want to—”
“I will go,” Wangji says, shaking his head. “You are my son.”
Sizhui stops what he is doing, arms frozen. He does not say anything, but the smile he gives Wangji is enough of a response. There was a time when Wangji kept some distance between them, be it because of cultivator status, or his inability to interact with most. But now, he can say for certain, that whoever Sizhui is, or wherever he is, Wangji will always see him as his son.
“I should go for my bus,” Sizhui says. “Goodbye, Dad.”
Wangji nods. “Have a nice day.”
When he leaves, the house is filled with a silence that is no longer comforting for Wangji. He stares down at his mug of coffee, catching a rippling reflection of himself on the black liquid. He has not changed at all. Everyone and everything moves around him, and he is stuck in the same place he has always been.
Wei Ying, too, will move on again. Wangji can only watch him.
- x -
Wei Ying stifles a yawn behind his hand. Today could not have gone any slower—and it isn't even over yet. He has Parents' Evening to suffer through. Before that happens, he'll have to down at least three cups of coffee to keep himself awake at this point.
Two weeks. Two weeks of these weird dreams keeping him up at night! Constantly waking up in the middle of the night and having an existential crisis is bad enough, but not knowing where to even start with deciphering these dreams makes things even worse. What is going on with him?
He considered telling Wen Qing about it—but what the fuck can she do? She's a doctor. She helps with illnesses or disease or whatever, not creepy dreams that are making Wei Ying question his whole existence. At the very least, it'll cement the fact he's finally going insane.
No, he shouldn't tell anyone about this. He's praying it'll just go away if he keeps pretending everything is okay.
So far, that's not working.
He yawns again, rubbing his eyes.
A small cough draws his attention. Wei Ying looks up, finding his class is already empty, save for Lan Sizhui who is standing in the middle of the room. He hesitantly approaches the teacher.
“Sizhui? What is it?”
Sizhui pulls at his bag strap. “I wanted to talk to you... about Jin Ling.”
To be honest, Wei Ying expected him to mention his father. How long has it been since he last spoke to Lan Zhan? Over two weeks, right?
He sits back down on his chair and blinks several times, trying not to make it too obvious he is half asleep.
“Oh, what's wrong?” he asks the teenager.
“Those kids from last time... They're still going after him.”
Wei Ying frowns. Those kids they had that fight with ages ago? It feels like a lifetime ago, but it was just last month. After the incident, the rumours about Jin Ling died and everyone seemed to have moved on. Children are little shits when it comes to someone new, especially if that someone looks different or stuck up. Wei Ying was hoping that it meant everyone got bored of judging Jin Ling and finally left him alone.
“Well, they got into a fight out of school two weeks ago,” Sizhui continues. “I wanted to tell you sooner but Jin Ling wouldn't have it.”
Wei Ying sighs. Of course he wouldn't have wanted him to know. No doubt Jin Ling didn't even want his own family to know, let alone someone he hates.
“I don't think they've been getting into any more fights recently because Jingyi and I are always with him... Still, I don't like seeing the way they treat Jin Ling,” Sizhui says. His eyebrows knit together. There is genuine concern on his face.
Wei Ying nods. “Thanks for telling me. I'll have a talk with them next time.”
He still can't remember what the names are of those kids fighting with Jin Ling. He'll recognise their faces when he sees them again, then he can yell at them to drop it.
“It's good he has you and Jingyi for friends,” Wei Ying adds with a smile.
Jin Ling isn't the easiest person to talk to; he got his stuck up attitude from his dad and his temper from Jiang Cheng. It doesn't help Jin Guangyao looks after him as well, so fuck knows what he ends up teaching Jin Ling. Last he heard, that midget gave Jin Ling a dog. A dog, of all things! Wei Ying is half convinced that was Jiang Cheng's idea just to spite him.
“I like him,” Sizhui says, laughing slightly. Then, he blinks and scratches his head. “I mean, as a friend. He's nice when you get to know him.”
The little blush on his face is a bit too suspicious. Wei Ying rests his chin on a palm and raises one eyebrow, watching Sizhui's ears flush slightly. It takes all of his strength not to burst out laughing.
“I-It's not like that, Teacher Wei!” Sizhui insists. He desperately looks away, but it just gives the teacher a better view of his reddening ears.
This time, Wei Ying does let out a laugh. “I'm not saying anything. What are you getting all shy for?”
Sizhui stays quiet. The teacher decides to spare him the embarrassment and stops laughing. How cute though. What he'd give to be young again, only worrying about high school crushes and your grades!
Life was so much easier back in high school. His grades were great without him even needing to do anything, which only pissed Jiang Cheng off because he made sure to study every night.
He lets out a deep sigh. “Is your dad going to Parent's Evening later?” he asks.
Why is he even asking?
Sizhui nods. “Yes, Teacher Wei.”
So they will see each other then... Wei Ying is not sure how he feels about that.
“Hmm. How has he been?”
“Um, he's been well. Quiet as usual.”
Wei Ying is smiling before he realises it. “Is he quiet with you too?”
Sizhui lets out a low chuckle. “He has always been like that, Teacher Wei. But he's a good father.”
He doesn't need to tell that to Wei Ying. The teacher remembers how much Lan Zhan cooked for him, how he didn't mind at all when a bunch of rabbits were climbing all over his shoulders.
“I guessed as much,” Wei Ying says. “You're a good kid, after all.”
Sizhui blushes again.
“I saw the rabbit room,” Wei Ying adds on. The shyness on Sizhui's face disappears in less than a second, replace by amusement.
“Haha, the rabbits adore him. Sometimes when he's in his music room, they'll start crowding around him while he plays.”
Wei Ying actually laughs at that. “I can see that happening.”
Who'd have thought the silent Lan Zhan had such a soft side? When you look at him, you think rich CEO, probably, or strict businessman. You don't think he has a room dedicated to six rabbits, or that he can't unlock his own phone, or that he'll cook for a whole army when he only has one guest over.
The teacher's laugh fades off into quiet sigh.
“Anyway,” he says. “Run along now. Aren't you supposed to be going home?”
Sizhui nods. “Yes, Teacher Wei. Thanks for listening to me.”
He leaves, and Wei Ying finally drops the smile off his face. He thinks of Sizhui going home, greeting his father. He thinks of both of them living in that huge house by themselves; Lan Zhan all alone when Sizhui leaves for school.
Does he get lonely?
They don't know each other very well, but Wei Ying will admit he has thought of the silent man far too much for the past two weeks. More than he should.
- x -
Parents' Evening was going fine until Lan Qiren appeared with a notebook of what he wanted to discuss about Jingyi. These little meetings are only supposed to be ten minutes at most, but Wei Ying has been listening to Lan Qiren ranting about his grandson for over an hour. Is this what they mean when you're having an out of body experience?
In the time that the old man has been rambling on, Wei Ying has already decided what he'll order for dinner. He's also decided where he'd like to go for holiday next year. Maybe Europe? London? He's never been to Europe before. Maybe listening to guys with posh British accents might get him to consider the whole I'm-Not-Sleeping-Around thing.
“If he is lazy during PE, please tell me. I have been meaning to get him to start doing handstand exercises to increase his physical strength. I am sure they will help tremendously with his school work too.”
Wei Ying blinks, his fantasies of some hot guy with a nice accent dissolving as he tries to imagine what the fuck a handstand exercise is supposed to be.
“A handstand... exercise?”
Lan Qiren strokes his goatee. “It's an exercise our family has been perfecting for generations. The Lans have tremendous arm strength because we are trained to do handstands for many hours.”
Now, Wei Ying's mind is conjuring up at image of Lan Zhan doing a handstand amidst his many rabbits. Cute. Oh, and did he say tremendous arm strength? Is Lan Zhan ripped under all those posh clothes?
Wei Ying rubs his temples. Away with that image! He doesn't need to think about Lan Zhan with a six pack!
“I see,” he chokes out. “I, uh, don't think handstand exercises will be necessary with Jingyi. He's just bad at Math.”
Lan Qiren continues to stroke his goatee. “I will make him solve algebraic equations while doing a handstand...”
There is absolutely no saving Lan Jingyi from his own grandfather. Wei Ying gulps down the rest of his coffee and forces out a pained smile.
“If you feel that will help his progression in school then, uh, by all means...” He waves a hand, still smiling. “Anyway. I think that's all I wanted to discuss with you about Jingyi today.”
To hell with that. He didn't even do the discussing! It felt like he was the parent and Lan Qiren was the teacher complaining about Jingyi!
“Actually, I wanted to discuss his attendance to school. While I make sure he attends everyday, I am worried he is not arriving on time. If he doesn't arrive to his classes within five minutes, fifteen seconds then feel free to call me—”
Fuck sake. If only this meeting lasted five minutes and fifteen seconds.
“Yes, yes,” Wei Ying nods. “If you have more to discuss with me, I'll be here later. But I'm afraid I need to move onto the next meeting.”
Idiot! Why the fuck did he say that!
Lan Qiren gives a stiff nod. “Then I shall see you later. Thank you, Teacher Wei.”
Great. Now Wei Ying will never go home at this rate. He's almost tempted to bang his forehead against this table, but it's not long until the next parent walks into the class.
It's Jiang Cheng.
Oh, now he really wants to bang his head against this table.
Wei Ying sighs. He's ran out of coffee now. This is going to be torture.
It doesn't help he's brought Jin Ling along as well, probably just so that he wouldn't be alone here with him. Fair enough; Wei Ying doesn't want to be alone with Jiang Cheng too, but having two people glaring at you at the same time is hardly fair.
“Let's make this quick,” Jiang Cheng says, taking a seat in front of his desk.
Just think of this as a job and nothing more. Jiang Cheng is only another parent—or uncle—of one of your students. That's it. You don't know anything else about him apart from that. That's it.
He manages to go through Jin Ling's grades, ignoring the little missy's deadly glare when he mentions he is failing at Physics. No amount of glaring is going to save your grades, you brat, Wei Ying wants to say, but of course, he keeps his mouth shut.
Jiang Cheng doesn't say anything, thank fuck, and only makes little grunts to show he is listening. Occasionally, he'll send a quick scowl at Jin Ling when his grades are below average, then go back to scowling at Wei Ying instead. He stays where he is, back straight, arms folded. Wei Ying spots a thin, string bracelet around his right wrist. It looks a bit like those friendship bracelets they made for each other when they were younger, but those broke a long time ago.
Did Jin Ling make him a new one?
Wei Ying tears his eyes away from it, focusing on the sheet of paper in front of him instead. He is talking too fast, eager to get this out of the way.
When he is done, he looks back up at Jiang Cheng, waiting for him to say something. Hoping he won't say something.
“What's this about Jin Ling being bullied?” he asks.
Jin Ling's eyes widen. He slams his fist on the table. “Uncle!”
Jiang Cheng ignores him. “There were some kids who beat him up a few weeks ago. Why aren't you doing anything about that?”
“They didn't do that!” Jin Ling cries, reddening.
Wei Ying should have expected this meeting would go in this direction. Jiang Cheng will blame everything on him. If Jin Ling arrived home with a cold, then Jiang Cheng will likely blame that on Wei Ying too.
“I wasn't even aware until today,” he says.
“What kind of excuse is that?”
A sigh escapes the teacher. He keeps himself occupied by sorting through the papers on his desk, stacking them neatly on top of each other. Jiang Cheng's glare is burning right through him but Wei Ying won't lose his temper. For now.
“I'll talk to the other kids when I can,” he reassures.
Jin Ling slams another fist on the table, shaking the papers. “I don't need you to do that!”
Jiang Cheng doesn't even bat an eyelid at his nephew about to lose it right next to him. He may as well have forgotten he even brought Jin Ling along.
“What good is that going to do? You act like you care about him but you don't notice when he's getting bullied?”
“I didn't know it was still happening—”
“You can't even do your job properly!”
Wei Ying's eyes narrow. “Is this even about Jin Ling anymore? Or are you just using any excuse to yell at me?”
His words come out louder than he meant them to be. As expected, that doesn't bode well with Jiang Cheng. His fists clench and he leans closer on the table.
“Of course it's about Jin Ling!”
Wei Ying doesn't care anymore. He raises his voice, shouting over the other. “Then I told you; I'm going to sort it out!”
“Fucking forget it!”
Jin Ling rises on his chair, kicking it aside. “Can you two just stop arguing for once! This is exactly why I wanted my dad to come instead!”
Silence. Wei Ying leans back on his chair, taking a moment to breathe. He can see Jiang Cheng's jaw clenching and it's sad that after all these years he still knows just where his thoughts are going. He slowly turns to Jin Ling.
“Your dad?” he scoffs. “What good is he going to do? He's barely here! He can't even put you in a decent school, he's useless!”
Jin Ling flinches as if his uncle struck him. Wei Ying catches his bottom lip trembling before he bites it and tries to match Jiang Cheng's glare. It doesn't look anything similar, not when his eyes are already watering.
“No, shut up! I'm sick of this!” he cries. “I wish he was here right now!”
With that, he storms off, slamming the door as he goes. It leaves a painful echo through the class.
“Good job,” Wei Ying says under his breath.
Jiang Cheng's dark eyes snap back to him. “Shut up, this is all your fault!”
He's too tired to get upset over Jiang Cheng today. No matter what he says, the other will only retaliate with words he won't even think about anyway. There's no point trying to fix anything between them now.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Wei Ying says. “But you didn't have to say that to him.”
“Don't tell me what to do.”
With Jin Ling gone, they're both alone in the classroom. It's easy to see neither want to be here.
Wei Ying shakes his head. “Just go, Jiang Cheng.”
Jiang Cheng doesn't need to be told twice. He leaves just like his nephew did; slamming the door twice as loud.
All Wei Ying can do is stare at the door, thinking back to times when Jiang Cheng did not always greet him with hatred and anger. It all seems like a lifetime ago, or a dream. They once used to be best friends, brothers, even. Jiang Cheng remained by Wei Ying's side, keeping him out of trouble—or trying to. They vowed they would both be policemen when they grew up, that they'd protect the city together. The Twin Heroes, they would have been, working together to fight crime.
Funny how you have so many dreams as a child, how everything seems so easy when you're small and the future is vast, endless, and amazing.
There is a knock on his door. He'd almost forgotten he had other parents to see.
He looks up, shoulders slumping when he sees who it is.
“What is it with you and bad timing, Mr. Lan?” Wei Ying says. He tries to make himself sound carefree, but he knows his voice is still shaking from his argument with Jiang Cheng.
Wei Ying coughs, watching Lan Zhan take a seat in front of him. He's wearing a light grey suit, tailored and fitted to perfection. He even has a dark blue tie on. There's not a single crease or speck of dirt on him, and his hair is tied into a loose ponytail as usual. He looks like he should be walking down a catwalk instead, not sitting here for Parents Evening. Wei Ying feels weird checking him out when he's still pissed off over Jiang Cheng.
It makes for good distraction, at least.
“Are you here for Sizhui's grades?” he asks. “This will be fairly quick; your son is perfect.”
Lan Zhan stiffly nods.
The music tutor is silent as always, listening intently to Wei Ying as he goes through Sizhui's progress for each class. Like he mentioned, the kid is perfect in every subject. Not only that; he's got a good attitude with teachers and other students. The only thing he's done wrong is that fight he was involved with several weeks ago, though Wei Ying guesses he was only trying to defend Jin Ling. No harm done.
“As I said, your son is perfect,” Wei Ying concludes. “Perfect grades, perfect behaviour. Just tell him to keep at it and I'm sure he'll get the grades he wants by the end of the year.”
Lan Zhan nods again.
They sit like that for a while. Wei Ying's eyes flicker around the class. He's sure his meeting with Lan Zhan is already over, but he isn't sure if he should tell the older man to go. Part of him is hoping he will take this as a sign to leave.
Another part of him is hoping he will say something. Anything.
“How... are you?” Lan Zhan asks.
Wei Ying raises his eyebrows. Why does this feel like déjà vu?
“Tired. Can you pretend you didn't hear my conversation with Jiang Cheng again?”
He hears a sigh coming from the music tutor. “You do not have to endure everything alone.”
Now, Wei Ying can't help but roll his eyes. He rises from his chair, letting out an empty laugh. Sitting right in front of Lan Zhan with nothing but that tiny desk is too suffocating. He needs some space.
He pretends to tidy the books on one of the shelves, knowing full well the older man is still staring. Each book has a thin layer of dust on them; they are here more for decoration rather than being used. Wei Ying wipes the dust onto his trousers and turns back around. Lo and behold, Lan Zhan's golden eyes are fixed on him.
“Spare me your preaching, Lan Zhan. You're wasting your time on me.”
Lan Zhan's lips press together.
“Why do you care so much?” Wei Ying asks. “I don't get you. We barely know each other.”
This isn't the first time he's come across persistent people, but comparing Lan Zhan to them feels... wrong. Lan Zhan has not once made any physical advances on him. He keeps his distance, letting Wei Ying approach him first. When he looks at him, it's almost as if he genuinely cares—but that can't be the case. They don't know each other at all. They've only known each other for—what? Less than two months? Hardly any time at all.
He doesn't understand what Lan Zhan wants. If he wants sex, then why doesn't he make any moves? He's unlike anyone Wei Ying has ever met and it's annoying.
Lan Zhan says nothing. He rises from his seat too, standing taller than Wei Ying, his expression betraying nothing.
Wei Ying feels his frustrations rising.
Why is he so difficult to understand?
What do you want?
What do you want?
Why does he feel so familiar? Just who is he?
Clenching his jaw, Wei Ying walks forward. There's a tiny bloom of satisfaction in his chest when he notices Lan Zhan's eyebrows twitching, his body more rigid as the teacher approaches. Wei Ying stops in front of him, searching his golden eyes for something.
He doesn't think he has ever seen eyes like this, although he knows he has. He's seen them before, and not just in the dreams that plague him now every night.
Wei Ying trails his gaze over the man in front of him, studying the slope of his nose, his cheekbones, the thickness of his bottom lip. There isn't a single blemish on his face. If Wei Ying touches his cheek, will it feel as smooth as he thinks it does? Will he be warm? Or cold as jade?
He licks his lips. His hands grasp Lan Zhan's collar, smoothing down non-existent creases. He can feel those golden eyes piercing into him, burning. Wei Ying does not stop.
He meets Lan Zhan's gaze. He has never seen anything as intense. Standing there in that classroom, Wei Ying thinks he must be drowning in molten amber, liquid gold. He swallows the lump in his throat and licks his lips again. Lan Zhan follows the movement of his tongue.
“It can't be just attraction, right?” Wei Ying says. His voice has gone quiet, though he knows Lan Zhan has heard him. “What do you want from me, Lan Zhan?”
If he kisses him here now, will that give Lan Zhan what he wants? Will Wei Ying finally understand him? Will that get rid of this conflict inside Wei Ying? Can he finally stop thinking about this man he barely knows anything about?
Wei Ying moves his hands up Lan Zhan's chest, slipping under his suit jacket to grab his tie. He tugs at it, causing the taller man to bend down slightly. His long hair cascades down his shoulders, and the smell of sandalwood is stronger. Closer. He's so close he can feel Lan Zhan's breath on his lips.
Lan Zhan grips his arm. Wei Ying doesn't know if he is trying to stop or encourage him. They stare at each other, unmoving. Unblinking. Wei Ying keeps his eyes on the lips in front of him, admiring their shape, the way the bottom lip is slightly thicker than the top. Then, they move. Lan Zhan speaks.
“I want you to be happy.”
Wei Ying's eyes widen. His hands loosen around the tie.
He leans back, replaying the words over and over. There is clear desire in Lan Zhan's eyes, but that's what he says? Why? Why? Why is he still impossible to understand, even now?
This should be easy for Wei Ying. He has always been able to wrap people around his fingers, crumbling their defences with a single wink of his eye, getting them to fall as soon as he showers them with words they want to hear, affection they want to get. It's always been easy.
He shakes his head, backing away. Why is he even trying this with Lan Zhan? He wants nothing from him! Why is it so hard to think around this man!
Wei Ying lets go of Lan Zhan and continues to shake his head, as if denying all this will somehow make everything fall into place.
“And why does that concern you?” Wei Ying demands. “Why should anyone care about me?”
That seems to have struck a nerve. Lan Zhan's fists clench. His eyes, so warm before, are suddenly cold.
“Wei Ying.”
Wei Ying returns the glare. “Lan Zhan.”
Pain pulses in his head. He flinches and sees a flash of gold and crimson, emerald flames engulfing everything in this room.
After all, on the topic of how my heart is, what could other people know about it? Why should other people care about it?
Anger. Fists clenching.
Wei Wuxian!
Irritation bubbles inside him. He doesn't understand what he wants.
Lan Wangji!
The flames rise. There is nothing but burning, hot anger. He drowns everything, his thoughts, his common sense, and all he sees is this man in front of him who gives him more questions than he has ever known.
What do you want? What do you want from me?
Wei Ying blinks. There is no more burning, or flames, or the stench of death around him. The classroom is as empty as ever, white walls so bright compared to the darkness he was thrown in.
A hand rests on his shoulder. Lan Zhan's voice is filled with concern as he speaks.
“What is wrong?” he asks.
I don't know, Wei Ying wants to say. I don't know what's going on anymore.
He is tired. He wishes he can be weak. He wishes he can use Lan Zhan for distraction, pretend the man cares about him as he likes to think he does. He wishes he doesn't have to force himself to be alone, especially when he is starting to doubt just who he is supposed to be in the first place.
Sighing, Wei Ying places a hand on top of Lan Zhan's. His touch is warmer than he expects, not at all cold.
He looks into his eyes.
“I killed my adopted parents,” Wei Ying says. “And I almost killed my—Jiang Cheng's sister too. She was in a coma for over ten years because of me. She's still in hospital now.”
Finally, there's something on Lan Zhan's face that Wei Ying can read. His lips part, silent, and the hand under Wei Ying's twitches slightly.
Wei Ying lets out a bitter smile. “You want to know more about me, Lan Zhan? You still think I deserve your sympathy?”
He wants to laugh. He wants to cry. He sees the bodies of his adopted parents, bloodied and lifeless, hardly recognisable. He sees Yanli, laying on the marble floor. The blood pooling around her head blends in with her crimson wedding dress.
All Wei Ying can do is cling tighter onto Lan Zhan's hand.
Lan Zhan takes a step closer. He slips his hand out of Wei Ying's and grasps his shoulders.
“Wei Ying—”
The loud hammering against the door makes Wei Ying jump. He jerks away, sighing as more knocks follow. Reluctantly, Lan Zhan lets go of him, hands closing into fists.
Both of them breathe out. The door opens.
“Teacher Wei? May I speak with you? Oh, Wangji you are here.”
Lan Qiren. Wei Ying feels like screaming at the sky. Lan Qiren, of all people.
“Mr. Lan was just leaving,” he says through gritted teeth. It's a miracle he manages to plaster a smile on his face. “Thank you, Mr. Lan. We are done here.”
Lan Zhan stares at him for a moment too long. His warm touch is nothing but a memory now. Wei Ying feels cold and tired. So tired.
Finally, Lan Zhan gives a final nod. Even after he is gone, Wei Ying is still having trouble breathing. He closes his palm, trying to remember what it was like having Lan Zhan's hand in his.
- x -
It is almost eight PM when Xichen hears thundering footsteps outside his apartment, followed by screaming. At first, he brushes it off. For the past two weeks, he has grown used to the sound of Jiang Cheng arguing with his nephew. Sometimes, if the two of them are not bickering, he will invite them over for a cup of tea. The company, while awkward at first, is strangely comforting now.
But their screams are louder this time. Confused, he opens his door and peeks outside, catching a glimpse of Jin Ling running past.
“Oi, Jin Ling, come back here! Don't walk away from me!”
Jin Ling doesn't even look back. He stomps away, disappearing off into Jiang Cheng's apartment. The sound of the door slamming close is enough to make the walls tremble.
Then, Jiang Cheng appears into view. He groans out loud, grumbling under his breath.
“Oh dear,” Xichen says out loud, catching his attention. “What seems to be the matter?”
Jiang Cheng's head snaps to him. As expected, he looks away after a second, glaring at the wall. “None of your business.”
Slowly, Xichen nods. He opens the door wider and leans on the frame, folding his arms. The officer remains where he is, staring at his apartment door as if it has caused all of his problems. Xichen has no idea why these two are arguing again, though the fact Jiang Cheng seems to be hesitating in approaching his nephew tells him their fight is a bit more serious this time. Usually, the officer will not hesitate to yell at the teenager, shouting empty threats that sound comical rather than terrifying.
“He won't listen to you if you're angry as well,” Xichen says.
Jiang Cheng turns back to him, frowning. “How the fuck do you know that?”
“Would you listen to someone who is equally as angered as you?”
Jiang Cheng's lack of response is enough of an answer.
“It is best to give him some time until you speak to him again,” Xichen tells him.
“I don't need you to tell me how to talk to my own nephew.”
“I'm not trying to. I apologise if it came across that way.”
Jiang Cheng's blue eyes narrow.
Sighing, Xichen pushes himself off the door frame. “I am only trying to help. Do not let your anger cloud your own emotions.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
He decides to speak slower, not because he thinks Jiang Cheng is a child who must be spoken to in such a way, but because he's learnt that mirroring the officer's irritation will only make him worse.
“You care about your nephew, yes?”
Jiang Cheng nods. “Of course.”
“Then calm down yourself before you speak with him. He will listen when he is ready.”
If there is something Xichen has learnt, it is that pride is a very dangerous thing. One's pride will control his own emotions if he feels he is weaker than his opponent. It does not matter who that opponent may be; your nephew, brother, or wife. If your pride is so strong that it clouds your attachment for that person, and makes you care more about the weakness you are showing in front of them, then it will only be the beginning of your downfall.
Xichen has observed humanity for far too long. It makes him wonder if he has ever done such deeds, if he is not as grounded as he thinks.
Of course, he isn't perfect. He may not have an issue with his pride, but his flaw is that he cares too much about others.
He cared too much about Jin Guangyao. Xichen was too busy treasuring the golden days to notice the greed that had long corrupted his sworn brother.
He was not blinded by his pride. He was blinded by his heart. He is not sure which is worse.
When he looks at Jiang Cheng, he sees the complete opposite of himself. But perhaps they are more alike than he realises.
“I said some things I shouldn't have,” Jiang Cheng eventually says. The anger in his eyes has faded.
Xichen gives him a smile. “We all do. As long as you realise you are in the wrong, there is still hope for you yet.”
The officer squints at him. He folds his arms, tilting his head slightly. For a while, he doesn't say anything, only staring at Xichen as if it is the first time he is seeing him.
“You don't strike me as someone who ends up saying things he shouldn't. You seem like you have your emotions under check,” he says in the end.
He is right, maybe. Wangji and him have been taught to control their emotions, to not let such trivial feelings cloud their judgment. Ever since they were children, they learn to hide everything behind a pleasant mask. It is best everyone sees who you need to be, not who you are. It is best not to burden anyone, or yourself, with emotions.
It was difficult to hide their grief when their mother died. They were children, hardly understanding the concept of death at all. Now, they are immortal. Death is all they are surrounded with, yet they can never experience it themselves. As the centuries pass and they watch the same people die over and over again, it becomes easier to control these emotions.
Xichen thinks that this must be why humans are so impulsive, so emotional. They have not yet exhausted themselves, losing everything and everyone.
“Maybe you are right,” Xichen says. “But that is not necessarily a good thing.”
He envies Jiang Cheng. To be able to express yourself, to be able to die... They are both something Xichen will never be able to do. The smile on his face has slowly faded, replaced by a longing he has not felt for quite a long time.
“I shall go now,” he says. “I'm sorry for prying.”
Jiang Cheng shakes his head. There is some confusion on his face, but he makes no comment on Xichen's sudden silence.
“It's okay. Thank you... Thank you for the advice,” he says. His own smile is awkward, shy. It is enough to get Xichen to leave with a light laugh of his own.
He shuts the door behind him, leaning against it with a deep sigh.
He wonders how long he and Wangji can keep this up. Is immortality really so long? Is there truly no end to it?
He thinks back to his brother and how he has managed to find Wei Wuxian. Even if they are blessed with happiness after all these long years, what will happen once everyone around them must move on? Time is inevitable. The people they meet are only human, only temporary. Around them, they are surrounded by ticking clocks while theirs are forever frozen.
Why did cultivators think this was a gift?
What is there to life, if you lose everything in the end?
Xichen sighs. He stands up straighter and forces himself to stop thinking such things.
Life is long, but tonight will be much longer if he allows himself to be tormented by these thoughts.