Chapter Text
Wei Wuxian wakes with an arm slung over his waist and warm breath against the back of his neck. His sleep-fogged brain prevents him, for a moment, to realize what is happening, right before it hits him like a runaway train.
Lan Wangji is holding him in bed.
Cuddling him, even.
Wei Wuxian goes rigid, breath held, as if the mere act of inhaling would wake up Lan Wangji. It’s not like they haven’t touched before. There has been endless touching, in fact, with bathtime and wound cleaning and all the princess-carrying around the apartment. Wei Wuxian might have even dozed off with his head pillowed on Lan Wangji’s thigh a few times.
But having Lan Wangji curled around him, in their shared room, on their bed—that’s new. A new touch. A new and exhilarating kind of touch. Lan Wangji has always kept to his side of the impossibly giant bed, face up and sleeping on his back, very careful not to encroach on Wei Wuxian’s space.
Now, warm and snug against Lan Wangji’s chest, Wei Wuxian wonders why they haven't done this sooner.
He starts to relax, fingers lightly tracing up Lan Wangji’s arm. Marvels at how soft his arm feels, how the muscles shift beneath the smooth skin. It’s freakishly hot the way Lan Wangji can lift him as though he weighs no more than a feather. Carry him up and down stairs without breaking a sweat.
(“You do realize walking is a necessary part of physical rehabilitation,” Wen Qing says, brows raised, when Lan Wangji carries Wei Wuxian into her office.)
Lan Wangji lets out a small huff, pressing his face into the back of Wei Wuxian’s neck.
Wei Wuxian freezes. Just when he thinks it’s over, the arm around his waist tightens too, pulling him closer.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji sighs, and Wei Wuxian’s pulse leaps.
It's his name that spilled past Lan Wangji's lips. His, and no one else's. Something about that thought makes Wei Wuxian's chest clench, that same unnamed feeling trickle down his ribs, one by one.
Heart hammering, he draws in a breath. “Lan Zh—”
The intercom buzzes, loud and piercing.
“President Lan, you have a visitor.”
Wei Wuxian claps a hand over his mouth as Lan Wangji stirs. Pulls back his arm and shifts away, leaving a space of cold air between them on the mattress. (Wei Wuxian’s chest twinges, again, with something that feels like disappointment.)
The intercom buzzes again.
“President Lan?”
“Mn,” Lan Wangji grunts behind Wei Wuxian, his voice rough from sleep. “Who is it?”
“Director Jin Guangyao from the Jin Motor Group.”
The temperature in the room plunges several degrees. Slowly, Lan Wangji sits up, eyes narrowed at the intercom as if he were glaring at Jin Guangyao through the machine. His hair, somehow, falls perfectly across his forehead. “Tell him he is not welcome—”
“President Lan will see him,” Wei Wuxian interjects.
Lan Wangji’s eyes dart to him, widening.
“Very good, Master Wei.”
“Are you sure?” Lan Wangji asks, quietly, after the intercom shuts off with a click .
Wei Wuxian shrugs as he rolls up into a sitting position. “He’s here. Might as well see what he has to say.”
Lan Wangji makes a pensive noise. “Stay close.”
What, like Jin Guangyao is going to stab him with a hidden dagger?
But Lan Wangji is looking at him expectantly, and Wei Wuxian feels obliged to nod.
“I won’t leave your side,” he says.
The creases between Lan Wangji’s brows ease at once. As he slips out of bed, movements graceful, Wei Wuxian chooses not to bring up the spooning.
A one-time occurence, that's all it was.
Jin Guangyao is smiling, his hands in the pockets of a trim leather jacket. Shoes off, he steps into the living room and glances about, taking in the light-colored furniture, the large windows, the paintings on the walls. There’s no surprise in his gaze, no awe, and it’s clear that he has seen and lived in spaces similar to the penthouse. Extravagant, luxurious, decadent spaces.
“How are you, Master Wei?” he asks, voice soft.
Wei Wuxian offers a smile in return, Lan Wangji radiating tension by his side. “Healing, no thanks to your cousin.” He gestures at the couch. “Please, have a seat.”
Jin Guangyao holds up a palm. “No need. I am only here to express my sincerest apologies for Zixun’s reckless actions.” A pause. “And to let you know that he is no longer a member of our racing team.”
“You fired him?” Wei Wuxian’s brows shoot upwards. “But he’s your only racer.”
“There will be others.” Jin Guangyao flashes white teeth. “In addition to you and Master Jiang.”
The implication sinks into the silence that follows.
“Lan Corporation has not agreed to a buyout,” Lan Wangji says, with a frown.
“Not yet, President Lan,” Jin Guangyao says, lips curling. “Not with Xichen-ge’s rather odd insistence on looking through the books a second time.” His head tilts to the side. “Almost as if he suspects foul play.”
Wei Wuxian feels Lan Wangji stiffen, though the porcelain face betrays none of his agitation. “My brother likes to err on the side of caution.”
“Oh?” Jin Guangyao’s smile turns sharp. “He has never felt the need to do that with me.”
“In personal matters, perhaps,” Lan Wangji replies, smoothly.
Jin Guangyao studies Lan Wangji for a moment. Then, gaze shifting, he tips his head toward Wei Wuxian. “Seeing that you’re well, Master Wei, I shan’t overstay my welcome. Thank you for having me, President Lan.”
Lan Wangji nods. “Director Jin.”
Arms crossed, Wei Wuxian stares at the front door long after it closes behind Jin Guangyao. It’s a simple, courteous visit. But Wei Wuxian can’t shake off the feeling that they were being tested within the brief interaction. Probed for answers that Jin Guangyao was hoping to find.
From everything Lan Wangji shared, Lan Xichen is probably the last person Jin Guangyao expects to turn on him. So, for that same man to dig into the Jin Motor Group’s accounts, Jin Guangyao must believe that someone has poisoned Lan Xichen’s mind, made Lan Xichen doubt his motives. And who better to do that than the other half of the Twin Jades?
Good thing Lan Wangji has the world’s best poker face.
“Sounds like your brother hasn’t had much luck,” Wei Wuxian muses.
“He hasn’t found anything,” Lan Wangji agrees.
And yet, Jin Guangyao felt the need to drop by. Revealed his anxieties, maybe even some desperation. That means they’re close, so close, to unraveling the threads of whatever intricate web Jin Guangyao is spinning behind the scenes.
Maybe Lan Xichen, with his soft spot for Jin Guangyao, is not the best option here.
Maybe a person who’s on the inside but doesn’t care as much for Jin Guangyao might be more willing to poke around. Pry a little more. Especially if that person is directly affected by the struggles of the Jin Motor Group.
“Lan Zhan.”
“Mn.”
“Fancy a visit with my brother-in-law?”
It’s a Saturday, and for once, Jin Zixuan is home.
Wei Wuxian grins when the man himself opens the door to Jin Ling’s delighted cry of Xian-jiujiu! He slips past Jin Zixuan, hobbles to the living room on his crutches like some sort of wounded three-legged animal. On the way, Jin Ling’s chubby hands reach up to clutch at Wei Wuxian’s pants, moving slow and careful as if he’s guiding Wei Wuxian onto the couch.
Wordless, Lan Wangji glides in and drops down next to Wei Wuxian.
“This is a nice surprise,” Jin Zixuan says, smiling as he sinks into the armchair across from the couch. “But A-Li is out with Jiang Cheng right now, looking for—”
“We’re here to see you,” Wei Wuxian says. Beside him, Jin Ling is holding onto one of his crutches, gaze fixed on it with rapt fascination.
Jin Zixuan arches an eyebrow. “Me? Why?”
“Because Jin Guangyao’s up to something, and you’re the man to figure out what he’s planning.”
Jin Zixuan’s eyes flick to Lan Wangji. “Last I heard, President Lan Xichen is on the case.”
“He’s compromised. You, on the other hand—” Wei Wuxian stops mid-sentence, barely dodging the end of his crutch as Jin Ling swings it around. Lan Wangji pins a hard stare on Jin Ling, who shrinks, trembling, into Wei Wuxian’s side. “A-Ling, could you play with that somewhere else? Before you knock the brains out of your Xian-jiujiu?”
“You can play right next to us,” Jin Zixuan suggests, pointing to a spot near the couch.
Jin Ling nods, the length of the crutch clutched against his tiny chest. “Can Jin Ling have the other stick?” he ventures.
Wei Wuxian laughs and hands him the other crutch. “Go nuts.”
As Jin Ling slides to the floor, dragging the crutches down with him, Wei Wuxian turns back to find Jin Zixuan gazing at him, lips pressed together.
“So,” Jin Zixuan says. “You want me prying into my half-brother’s affairs.”
“Yep.” Wei Wuxian shrugs. “Don’t you have questions? Like why he’s so keen on the buyout?”
“Given what’s happening with the company, we’d all be grateful to have—”
Wei Wuxian flicks his wrist. “Yes, yes, you’re failing, you’re hemorrhaging money, we get all that.” He leans forward, eyes glinting. “Who manages the money in Jin Motor Group?”
Jin Zixuan frowns. “Our accounting department, of course.”
“And it was an accountant who reported the missing funds?”
“No, Guangyao.”
“How did Jin Guangyao find out?”
“I’d imagine an accountant told him.”
“What is he, Director of Finance?”
“No, Public Relations.”
“Then why would an accountant report an embezzlement to him?”
There’s a pause in the rapid-fire dialogue, with Jin Zixuan’s mouth opening, then closing, and then opening again, hesitant.
“It… it might have been a late night and no one else was around…”
Mouth curved, Wei Wuxian flops back against the couch.
“See, here’s the problem. President Lan Xichen is checking the numbers. But no one’s checking the people involved. Who’s this accountant who managed to discover the missing funds? Why’d they choose to tell a Director completely unrelated to their own department? Did they tell anyone else? Does this supposed accountant even exist?”
Another pause. Then Jin Zixuan exhales, head shaking. “Fine. I can’t deny that the circumstances around the embezzlement are highly suspicious. But what would any of this have to do with Guangyao’s enthusiasm for the buyout?”
“They are connected,” Lan Wangji points out.
“Exactly.” Wei Wuxian tilts his head to give Lan Wangji a soft smile. “No embezzlement, no missing funds. No missing funds, no bankruptcy. No bankruptcy, no buyout. So,” he draws a curved line in the air with his forefinger, “It all goes back in one lovely circle to my very first question: why is Jin Guangyao so keen on a buyout?”
Silence falls again, with Jin Zixuan’s brows needling together in a fierce glare. On the floor, Jin Ling glances at each of them in turn, wondering why the adults are no longer speaking.
This might be hard for Jin Zixuan, Wei Wuxian realizes, then. Harder than he thought it would be. After all, Jin Guangyao is still family.
But it's Jin Zixuan who breaks the silence first. “I will speak with the accounting department,” he says, quietly. “Though I'd need a reason for why the head of Research and Development is approaching them.”
Wei Wuxian grins, relieved. “Just say something about salaries. Someone's getting paid late. Their bonuses weren't included. Then slip in a casual, 'So this embezzlement business, huh? Must be stressful'."
Jin Zixuan clicks his tongue. "You're far too adept at this."
“Baba,” Jin Ling calls out. “Can Jin Ling have walk-sticks, too?”
“No,” Jin Zixuan says, ignoring Jin Ling’s pout.
“Aww.” Wei Wuxian reaches out, ruffles Jin Ling’s hair. “He can have mine after I’m done with them.”
“There are crutches for children,” Lan Wangji supplies.
Wei Wuxian holds back a laugh as Jin Zixuan's face twists in horror at the thought.
On their next visit, Wen Qing certifies Wei Wuxian physically able to live on his own.
The announcement is so unexpected, so sudden, that it makes panic cling to Wei Wuxian's throat. Makes his legs shake, restless, on the car ride back to Lan Wangji’s penthouse.
Weeks ago, naked and vulnerable in a tub, he asked Lan Wangji not to return to work, made it clear that he wanted Lan Wangji to stay with him. But that was when he was under doctor’s orders to receive constant care. When he needed Lan Wangji by his side.
Now, he has no reason to stay.
Lan Wangji has no reason to stay.
And he still hasn’t put a name to that strange feeling that won't go away.
Sighing, Wei Wuxian glances out the window, seconds before he does a double-take. “This isn’t the route ho—back to your place,” he amends hastily.
Lan Wangji doesn’t appear to notice his slip. “We are going to a Nie Industrial Solutions factory.”
“Oh,” Wei Wuxian says. He searches Lan Wangji’s face for a sign, something that might provide an explanation for the detour. Finding none, he turns back to the scenery outside, fingers drumming on his knees. There must be a business meeting that Lan Wangji had neglected to tell him. One of the Nie brothers will probably escort them to a conference room with a big round table lined with dark leather chairs, and he'd have to tolerate some boring business talk for god knows how long.
Irritation gnaws at Wei Wuxian's gut. Weeks of living together, of intimate conversations and physical touches, and this is how it all ends—Lan Wangji returning to his old life like it never happened.
Maybe this was all just an act of obligation, Wei Wuxian thinks, hands curling into fists on his knees. Just something Lan Wangji had to do to make sure his racer returned to top form.
But no one shows up to receive them at the entrance.
Instead, they traverse the factory grounds relatively ignored, save for a few polite greetings directed toward Lan Wangji.
Curious.
Wei Wuxian sneaks a peek at Lan Wangji, who’s keeping pace with him despite his painfully slow gait.
Very curious.
They soon arrive at what looks like a showroom, the spotlights turned toward a single platform in the middle of the large space. Something big sits on the platform, its body covered by a black cloth. Stepping up to the object, Lan Wangji rests a hand on the cloth, his face gone warm and soft.
“Close your eyes,” he says.
Instantly, any lingering trace of anger dissipates within Wei Wuxian.
It’s a surprise.
Lan Wangji prepared a surprise for him.
Wei Wuxian isn’t sure why his heart is racing, but it is, and his weak knees have already started to tremble. Swallowing, he does as Lan Wangji says.
A rustle of fabric, before he feels Lan Wangji’s fingers on his elbow, gently guiding him forward. Step by step, the warmth of Lan Wangji’s touch slips through the layer of his jacket sleeve, sends heat to his cheeks. Then, slowly, Lan Wangji moves Wei Wuxian’s arm, presses his palm against something cold and smooth. Hard.
Something that feels like metal.
Wei Wuxian’s eyes snap open.
It's a brand-new MotoGP-class motorcycle, the fresh paint a bright sheen of red in the lights. But what holds Wei Wuxian's gaze is the second seat on the back of the bike, the footholds affixed to the top of the back wheels.
A two-seater, as promised—despite Lan Wangji’s distaste for racing, despite watching Wei Wuxian crash and die for twenty minutes on the hospital bed.
Wei Ying enjoys it, Lan Wangji once said.
Wei Wuxian feels his heart swell to three times its size.
“It's not fit for the tracks yet,” Lan Wangji says. “But since you have recovered enough to return to your apartment, I thought it was time—”
“I don’t want to go back,” Wei Wuxian blurts out.
Lan Wangji pauses.
“I want to stay.” Like a broken dam, the words flood past Wei Wuxian’s lips, unrestrained. “I’ve grown used to living with you, and I also like living with you, so I... I want to stay. Until you get really, really sick of me and kick me out on the curb. But, you know. Until then.”
For a moment, Lan Wangji doesn’t respond.
Then, he smiles, face lighting up for the briefest of moments.
“Stay,” he says, softly. “As long as you want.”
The odd feeling pushes Wei Wuxian to throw his arms around Lan Wangji’s neck, crutches falling to the ground with a clatter. Lan Wangji is firm against him, hands spreading against the small of his back to keep him steady, safe. The way he always feels when he's with Lan Wangji.
The next day, the Wens help Wei Wuxian to move the rest of his belongings into the penthouse, with Wei Wuxian promising to visit Wen Yuan and Wen Ning every weekend. (Wen Qing looks decidedly smug about the whole affair.)
“Are you happy?”
Jiang Yanli’s smile is knowing. They’re on the bleachers of the Shanghai stadium, where Jiang Cheng is testing his repaired bike on the track. On the row below, Jin Ling and Wen Yuan are engaged in conversation, heads pressed together, bouts of giggles drifting in the air every few minutes.
Wei Wuxian shrugs. “Wish I was fit enough to ride with Jiang Cheng, but otherwise... yeah.” He thinks of Lan Wangji, of the worry in those pale eyes and his incessant fussing before he finally lets Wei Wuxian step out the front door with Jiang Yanli. A smile tugs at his lips. “I’m happy.”
“You look very happy,” Wen Ning points out. He’s seated on Wei Wuxian’s other side, watching over Wen Yuan with a warm gaze.
Jiang Yanli leans back, directing her smile at Wen Ning. “I think he’s a little unhappy that Lan Zhan isn’t here.”
“I think so, too,” Wen Ning says, smiling right back.
“Hello?” Wei Wuxian huffs between them. “I’m right here?”
After his move, the Wens and the Jiangs started to hang out more often, arranging playdates for the boys and meeting at each other’s homes for steamboat dinners. Wei Wuxian is pleased to see his two families get along, but he has a nagging suspicion that his relationship with Lan Wangji is all they ever talk about.
“Have you gone steady yet?” Jiang Yanli asks.
Wei Wuxian’s head whips around so fast, his neck cracks with the motion. “What?”
“I don’t think they’re dating,” Wen Ning says, with a contemplative expression.
“How can they not be dating? They’re practically living together.”
“Again,” Wei Wuxian says, slowly. “I’m right here. And what does our living together have anything to do with dating?”
Jiang Yanli stares at him, wide-eyed. “A-Xian…”
“Yeah?”
“Are you…” She puts a hand to her mouth. “...actually thicker than my A-Xuan?”
Wei Wuxian blinks. Next to him, Wen Ning lets out a small noise that sounds like a snort. What exactly is he being thick about? He and Lan Wangji are living together because they enjoy each other’s company. That, and it’s Lan Wangji, with his warm eyes and his soft smile reserved just for Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji with his scent of sandalwood from the incense that he burns every night, a smell that follows him everywhere.
Well all right, Wei Wuxian concedes. He might be a tiny bit puzzled about that unnamed feeling bubbling up inside his chest.
But other than that.
“Hey,” Jiang Cheng yells from the track. “Is anyone watching me up there?”
“No,” Jin Ling hollers, before he and Wen Yuan dissolve into laughter.
“You little—”
Someone’s phone drowns out Jiang Cheng’s swearing.
Jiang Yanli tugs out her cellphone and smiles at the scrolling text on the screen. “Speak of the devil,” she giggles, sliding the call button to one side. “Hello? A-Xuan?”
Wei Wuxian chortles as Jiang Cheng engages the children in an argument that is clearly beneath his maturity level. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
He's swinging his leg over a plastic seat, just about to join in the fun ("Qing-jie'll wash your mouth out with soap!" "You think I'm afraid of a girl?!" "Qing-jie'll beat you for calling her a girl!"), when Jiang Yanli taps his shoulder. “He has something important to tell you,” she says, handing him the phone.
"That I’ve got thicker brains than he does?” Wei Wuxian says, still grinning as he presses the phone to his ear.
His face hardens as soon as Jin Zixuan’s voice cuts through the receiver.
“We got him.”
Jiang Cheng declines to join the meeting, snorting that there's no point if he doesn't get the satisfaction of watching the bastard's face contort in front of him. (A-Cheng, Jiang Yanli says, sharply, her hands on Jin Ling's ears.) "Tell me all about it at dinner," he calls out.
The Lan Corporation tower is so tall that Wei Wuxian’s ears pop repeatedly on the elevator up. Lan Wangji is waiting for him in his office, rising to his feet the instant Wei Wuxian walks through the heavy doors. It makes Wei Wuxian smile, the way Lan Wangji treats him like a revered guest, in and outside their home.
“They’re coming,” Lan Wangji informs him, just as Jin Zixuan enters with a grim expression.
Lan Xichen arrives soon after Jin Zixuan. He’s still smiling as he greets Lan Wangji, but Wei Wuxian sees how his smile is sad and tight around the edges. How it flickers, imperceptibly, when Jin Zixuan dives straight into the crux of the matter, impatient as ever.
“Guangyao was the embezzler.”
Shocker.
Carefully, Wei Wuxian schools his face into a neutral expression. “How’d you find out?” he asks.
“The accountant does exist,” Jin Zixuan says, voice hard. “But it's one that was working for Guangyao, creating multiple payments that the department had written off as human error. That we all wrote off as human error. Poor fool was promised a share of the funds, so the last thing he expected was for Guangyao to blow the whistle. Practically cracked and confessed everything after we cornered him. After that, all it took was to trace the flow of funds to fake accounts that belong to relatives of Su She.”
Wei Wuxian holds back a snort; naturally, Su She is involved. “What was he planning to do with the money?”
“Divide it between him and Su She,” Lan Xichen says. “But his main motive was to force the Jin Motor Group to near bankruptcy so the Lan Corporation will buy the company, where he can then join the board of directors and, ultimately, strip Jin Guangshan of his title.”
“So he did all of that, endangering people's jobs and livelihoods, just to get back at his lecherous dad?” Wei Wuxian says, incredulous.
Lan Xichen’s face turns more pinched. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“The Jin Motor Group has filed a lawsuit against him,” Jin Zixuan says. “Him and Su She.”
“And Jin Zixun?” Lan Wangji asks, eyes narrowed.
Jin Zixuan sighs, a heavy exhale. “That was Su She, all of it. Guangyao isn’t foolish enough to show his hand with such a bold move.”
“Wonder why he came down to the garage, then.” Wei Wuxian leans back against the couch, kicks his legs up on the coffee table. “He might have gotten away with all this, if he hadn’t shown his face there with Su She.”
Lan Xichen frowns. “From what i understand, Huaisang was the one who had suggested it.”
Of course, Wei Wuxian thinks. Nie Huaisang, the information hub of the MotoGP VIP Village, who brought him and Lan Wangji closer together, who fanned his fascination of Lan Wangji from the very start. Who sent Jin Guangyao down to the Lan Corp Racing garage, knowing fully well that the lethal combination of Jiang Cheng and Su She’s temper would be witnessed by one half of the Twin Jades, maybe even push Jin Guangyao or Su She to extremes.
Wei Wuxian makes a mental note to give his wily friend a call. (“I don’t know,” Nie Huaisang says later, his calm voice failing to convey the confusion in his words. “I don’t a thing about this.")
Their guests don’t stay for long after that, Jin Zixuan dropping a hand on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder as he leaves (“A-Li hopes you’ll see the light soon” ), Lan Xichen stopping to exchange a few words with Lan Wangji by the door.
Wei Wuxian doesn’t understand the cryptic message from his sister, but it does make a thought pop into Wei Wuxian’s head—one that he had put on the backburner for too long. He waits until the brothers are finished with their conversation, before he calls out to Lan Xichen.
“It’s a secret,” he tells Lan Wangji, hands on his back, shoving him in the direction of his desk on the other side of the office.
Lan Wangji sends a dark stare over his shoulder, but moves away from the door nonetheless.
Wei Wuxian turns back to Lan Xichen, who tilts his head, gaze sharp.
“How can I help you, Master Wei?”
“It’s about the pocket square,” Wei Wuxian says, seeing no reason to beat about the bush. “I tried asking Lan Zhan, but he wouldn’t tell me.”
“I see.” Lan Xichen looks over to Lan Wangji, who’s making a great show of flipping through a stack of papers. “One thing you should know, Master Wei, is that we were raised by our uncle. Our parents died when we were young, and Wangji… Wangji was most distressed by our mother’s death. It angered him, the way she liked to tease him, folding him all manners of paper flowers and putting them in his hair. But he refused to leave her bedside when she fell ill. Wouldn’t leave for days after she succumbed. So you can imagine how much she meant to him.”
Wei Wuxian nods. No wonder Lan Wangji reacted the way he did to his paper gifts, why Lan Wangji took to filling his bedside table with flowers in the hospital.
“Now, Wangji’s pocket square...” Lan Xichen touches his lapel, fingers pressing on a golden brooch of a gentian at the corner. “...and this brooch.”
He pauses, locks eyes with Wei Wuxian.
“They were gifts from our mother.”
Wei Wuxian’s stomach twists with guilt. If he had a keepsake from his parents, any keepsake, he would have wanted nothing to do with the fool who was careless enough to wreck it. Much less a parent who meant the world the way Lan Wangji’s mother did to Lan Wangji.
He glances at Lan Wangji. After such a heinous mistake, why on earth would Lan Wangji forgive him? Especially with the wine-stained pocket square in his suit pocket, a constant reminder of Wei Wuxian’s crime.
“One more thing,” Lan Xichen says, tugging him out of his thoughts. “I had recommended a service that would help Wangji with the more persistent stains on his pocket square. Offered, even, to collect it for him when it's ready. But he refused.”
Wei Wuxian blinks. “Why?”
This time, Lan Xichen’s smile turns uncharacteristically wry.
“Think, Master Wei. What reason would Wangji have to keep blood-red stains on his most precious treasure?”
Wei Wuxian stares at Lan Xichen. “Because he… because he wants the reminder. Because the stains remind him of… wine. Of… of the time we met…? Of…”
Wei Wuxian sucks in a breath.
This feeling—
Something clicks, like a jigsaw piece slotting into place.
God, Jiang Yanli’s right. He’s actually thicker than Jin Zixuan.
Wei Wuxian whirls around to run to Lan Wangji. Tackles him so hard that Lan Wangji’s back hits the wall, Wei Wuxian’s arms around his waist. The door closes, signalling Lan Xichen’s quiet departure.
“Dangerous,” Lan Wangji chides, hands skating over him in concern.
Wei Wuxian leans, instinctively, into the touch. “Lan Zhan,” he murmurs, voice low and trembling. Bursting with need to pour his heart open. “Lan Zhan, Lan Wangji, Lan Er-Gege .”
Lan Wangji looks up at him, eyes gone paler, ears pink. “What are you—”
“I want you.”
Lan Wangji freezes.
“I want you,” Wei Wuxian says again. “Want you, love you, am attracted to you. Have been attracted to you, since the day we met. I can give you more paper flowers, the way your mother did. Bury you in a whole mountain of them. And you don’t have to keep the stains on your pocket square as a reminder of me, or our time together, because I’m finding you something else you can keep, something that won’t ruin the memories of your mo—”
Wei Wuxian’s words turn muffled as Lan Wangji crushes him into a tight embrace. He feels Lan Wangji shake against him, hears his breath grow harsher, more rapid.
“Not ruined,” Lan Wangji whispers. “Brought back memories. Good memories. And I... I..." A quivering exhale. "I want you, too. Want everything and anything that is you.” He pushes his face into Wei Wuxian’s neck, something hot and wet trickling down Wei Wuxian's skin. “Can't lose you again.”
Wei Wuxian sighs, fingers curling into dark hair.
“Then kiss me?”
Lan Wangji does, mouth capturing his. Lan Wangji smells like earth and sandalwood and grass after a light rain. Tastes of salt from his tears and something incredibly, unbelievably, sweet.
It took them months; they had squandered so much of their time together. But they got there, wherever there was—with Lan Wangji’s hand stroking his lower back, Lan Wangji’s mouth pressing soft kisses up his jaw—and Wei Wuxian wants nothing more than this, now, always.
It ends like this:
Boy meets boy at his first MotoGP World Championship. They fall in love. Other boy calls a press conference to officially announce their relationship. Boy tries to stay on his best behavior, but it’s other boy who pulls him in and kisses him in front of all the cameras.
They ride out into the sunset later—one boy wearing a black helmet with red lightning bolts and Lan Corp MotoGP stickers plastered over the top; the other, a white helmet, covered in patterns of clouds and gentians and a little message scrawled in black on the side:
From wy to lz. Let's go for a ride. ♡