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When Lan Wangji first meets Wei Ying, he is little more than a collection of images and sensations, faint, disjointed impressions of a person, like a deck of cards spilled across a table.
An inky black smear of hair on crisp hospital linens. An aimless giggle muffled by an oxygen mask. Dazed eyes that drift across the room.
“Do me a favor and kill him,” a man snarls, eyes wild and angry, as he stalks off to punch a hole in the waiting room wall. “Since he cares so little for his own life!”
Lan Wangji learns that the man’s name is Jiang Wanyin. He learns that the man is Wei Ying’s adoptive brother, and that Wei Ying threw himself in front of a car for him.
Lan Wangji is practiced in exercising restraint. There is a cool well of resolve at the heart of him. Secrets he has kept, and impulses he has hidden. But still, there is something that stirs in him, some dark amusement, at Jiang Wanyin’s request.
Do me a favor and kill him.
Lan Wangji holds his breath and blinks slowly to recenter himself. The impulse is there, easy and enticing, as he regards the person giggling limply, wincing as they are prodded at and hooked up to an IV.
It’s a puddle of blood, creeping across the moonlit floor, and the sharp gleam of a blade. The racing tide of a sea of fire, seeping out, hungry, and flaring up in a resplendent roar. It’s the fear, and the quiet .
This person threw themself in front of a moving car, and they are laughing, easy and delirious. Frivolous. They are whining softly for A-Cheng , undeterred by the man’s cutting rage.
There is a tiny pearl earring, decorating their right ear.
Lan Wangji breathes shallowly, fighting to hold back a shudder, as he traces his fingers over the patient’s chart.
Wei Ying.
–
Lan Wangji does his research. He studies Wei Ying, his medical records, past addresses, employment, and social media, with increasing fascination.
Lan Wangji has always been a man of routine. He has applied the same ritual focus to every aspect of his life. The most private impulses, the things he must carefully conceal, have been no exception.
Lan Wangji has handled every forbidden urge with level-headed rationale, with restraint and impeccable planning.
Just as his father had raised him.
But it has been a long time, since a person has captured his interest to this extent.
Lan Wangji is not sure there has ever been another, he has been so fascinated with.
He follows Wei Ying to the coffee shop he works at, to the grocery store, to the bars he goes to with his friends.
Lan Wangji never lets himself be seen.
But he watches.
He watches as Wei Ying smiles and laughs, as he charms the people around him. He watches as Wei Ying stands up for others, as he toys with the earring in his ear, as he flinches at every dog he encounters. He watches as Wei Ying smiles through every hurt, like he doesn’t know another way to react to pain.
He watches Wei Ying drink until a forlorn, distant gleam clouds his pretty eyes. He watches Wei Ying walk home alone, watches him stumble into a rideshare, careless, reckless .
He establishes a sense of Wei Ying’s routines. The rhythms of his daily life, the people he interacts with.
Wei Ying does not have a significant other. He lives alone, and despite how often he flirts, he never brings anyone home with him. His relationship with his family is strained. He frequents bars, and travels alone at night.
He is easy prey. So easy it makes Lan Wangji shudder.
Lan Wangji imagines how he will do it. He imagines using a sedative, capturing Wei Ying in the dark cover of the night, and whisking him away, taking him somewhere quiet.
Familiar.
Routine.
But there is another impulse, stirring inside him when he sees Wei Ying’s sweet, clever smile. An impulse to hold Wei Ying, to touch him, to smell his soft skin. To see his pretty face overcome with complex emotion, with pain and joy. To feel him struggle in Lan Wangji’s arms. To bring him someplace private, where Lan Wangji will have time to understand him, to make sense of the curious nuances of his mind.
The impulse makes Lan Wangji shy.
It makes him curious.
It makes him venture from where he is lurking, inconspicuously, in a dry goods aisle of the grocery store, and edge up next to Wei Ying in the meat department.
It is, admittedly, a rash choice. Lan Wangji is a vegetarian, and has no business in the meat department.
But Wei Ying doesn’t seem to notice anything unusual or even remotely predatory about Lan Wangji’s presence in the meat department. Instead, when he realizes who is beside him, a brilliant smile overtakes his pretty face, bright and resplendent like a sunrise.
“Doctor Lan? What a surprise to see you here! How have you been?”
Lan Wangji swallows roughly, momentarily stunned under the force of Wei Ying’s attention. Wei Ying is so beautiful, so friendly, and they are so close, in such a public space. No other medical staff around them. None of Wei Ying’s friends or family. No one to intervene.
There is a moment of silence, where Lan Wangji parts his lips but cannot summon a single word in response.
But Wei Ying must take his hesitation as a response, because a moment later he is laughing gracefully, toying with his earring.
“Sorry, sorry! You must have so many patients, I’m sure you wouldn’t remember someone from a few months ago. Besides, I wasn’t in the hospital for very long, it wasn’t very serious.”
Lan Wangji blinks slowly, gathering himself. The same impulse that drove him to break his routine, to approach his prey in broad daylight, is surging inside him now, making him feel almost dizzy.
Wei Ying is clearly giving him an out to exit this conversation, to remedy his mistake.
But Lan Wangji has never felt a thrill like this. He has never encountered someone who has evoked in him such wild, ceaseless fascination, such strange tenderness. He has never desired to step outside the bounds of safety and routine, to flirt with risk, with exposure, with real danger.
“Wei Ying,” he implores softly, the name sweet and forbidden on his tongue. It is a name he has whispered to himself, many, many times, in the comfort and safety of his mind. A name he is finally speaking aloud, like a confession. “Wei Wuxian.”
At once, Wei Ying’s eyes seem to sparkle with delight.
“Doctor Lan!! You do remember me!” he teases, biting his lip in excitement as his pretty eyes search Lan Wangji’s expression with renewed interest. “I knew it, I knew you remembered me! I remembered you too, after all. How could I not, when my savior has such a pretty face!”
Lan Wangji swallows roughly at that. His ears feel rather hot. Wei Ying is teasing him, flirting with him- so easy, easy, easy . Lan Wangji is stricken with an absolutely violent impulse to grab Wei Ying, to bite him, to touch him, to smother him, to take him away from the world, from everything, everyone- to keep him somewhere, isolated, safe-
“You can call me Wei Ying, by the way. No need for formalities between us, since we’re already so close!”
Wei Ying is smiling at him playfully, and Lan Wangji cannot make any sense of it. How can a person be this easy, this kind . How can a person make him feel this reckless.
“Lan Zhan,” he responds, keeping his expression carefully neutral. “You can call me Lan Zhan.”
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying repeats, smiling until the edges of his eyes crinkle in delight. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan... What a nice name, it really suits you! Tell me, Lan Zhan, do you share your birth name with all your patients? I suppose it’s only fair, since you already know mine.”
Lan Wangji can only stare as Wei Ying smiles at him, sweet and mischievous, a flirty gleam in his eyes.
He is so pretty, so unusually pretty, and so bright. He threw himself in front of a moving car to protect his brother, and spent the majority of his time in the hospital laughing, smiling through every physical discomfort, every verbal abuse his family inflicted upon him.
The only times Lan Wangji ever heard him complain, it was always over something trivial, and typically a product of Wei Ying’s boredom and desire for attention - he whined repeatedly about the bland hospital food, the lack of alcohol, the lack of video games, the lack of decorations on the walls.
But he never once complained about the way his brother cursed at him and treated him coldly for saving his life, or the way his aunt degraded him for being careless, a burden, hissing at him, “ Do you have any idea how much this is going to cost us- ” and swearing up and down that she would not pay the medical bills.
Even now, Wei Ying is making this so easy for Lan Wangji, drawing him in, eager and fawning, in that curious way that he endears himself to others.
Lan Wangji cannot make any sense of him.
But he is desperate to understand.
There is an ache inside him, a hurt he cannot put into words and a fixation he cannot shake. And Wei Ying is flirting with him, smiling at him, bright and careless and easy, a pearl earring decorating his ear, delicate and personal, an enticing little prize.
He is perfect, perfect, perfect .
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji begins, looking him carefully in the eye, watching for any hint of hesitance or resistance. “Would you like to go on a date?
“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying gasps, as though he is absolutely delighted at Lan Wangji’s boldness. “What a shuai ge! I would love to! Anytime!”
Lan Wangji watches his reaction carefully, and takes a decisive step closer.
“Wei Ying,” he asks. “Are you free now?”
—
Lan Wangji takes Wei Ying home with him, that night.
He watches as Wei Ying explores his apartment, staring in disbelief at his shoe rack, his appliances, his furniture and countertops.
“Lan Zhan, this is the cleanest apartment I have ever seen. Do you even live here, gege? Who are you!”
Lan Wangji does not answer Wei Ying’s question. Instead, he backs Wei Ying up against the kitchen counter and kisses him, hard.
Wei Ying freezes in shock, at first, like a prey animal that has just realized it is in the presence of a predator. But Lan Wangji does not relent. He cannot stop- cannot allow this moment to slip away- cannot allow Wei Ying to reject him, to reject this, because if he does, Lan Wangji does not know what he will do - he cannot even imagine what he will do- he thinks he would rather smother Wei Ying than find out-
And then Wei Ying goes soft, parting his lips and leaning into Lan Wangji’s touch, whimpering when Lan Wangji sucks and bites at his lips, licks into his sweet little mouth.
Oh, oh, oh… he is perfect .
Lan Wangji shudders and grabs Wei Ying, cradling his jaw in both of his hands, holding him in place as he kisses him, as he steals the breath from Wei Ying’s mouth, shoving him against the counter, dominating him, suffocating him-
Wei Ying whines pathetically into his mouth, and cants his hips against Lan Wangji, and oh- he is hard , just as hard as Lan Wangji- he is so sweet, so needy, so perfect, like some wild fantasy Lan Wangji has dreamt up, a perfect boy for him to fuck-
They are stumbling to the bedroom, somehow. Lan Wangji is digging his fingers into the soft contours of Wei Ying’s body, rucking up his clothes, grabbing him by the hair, by the back of the neck- and Wei Ying is tugging at Lan Wangji’s collar, at his belt, the waistband of his pants, needy and startlingly demure, his eyes dark and his lips red and wet-
Lan Wangji pins Wei Ying against the wall, and Wei Ying whines, high and breathy, like he isn’t scared at all, like he wants this, like he needs it-
Lan Wangji thinks he might die. This is beyond anything he could have imagined, any rush he has ever felt.
Wei Ying is so achingly sweet, nuzzling into his neck, endearing himself to Lan Wangji, whispering slurred obscenities in his ear, goading him on-
Lan Wangji closes his eyes and nuzzles into Wei Ying’s neck, feeling for the places that are sensitive, that make Wei Ying flinch and shiver. He bites down on Wei Ying’s shoulder, hard enough to draw blood, to have Wei Ying crying out and tugging at his hair-
But still, Wei Ying doesn’t refuse him. In the aftermath of his cries, he makes a pathetic little moan and whines “gege, you hurt me-” like he’s begging for attention, like he wants Lan Wangji to do it again -
Lan Wangji takes him to bed. He pins him down amidst soft bedsheets, tucks him away in his bed, his most private space, and undresses him.
Wei Ying’s eyes are dark, sparkling with something indecipherable, as he gazes up at Lan Wangji. His lips are parted and his breathing is soft and exhilarated. His body is so pretty, bare and vulnerable in Lan Wangji’s bed. The pearl earring in his ear is almost obscenely placed, a perfect, delicate adornment. A stray drop of seed.
Lan Wangji cannot tear his gaze away from it. He traces his finger over it, imagining it in his collection, the little box of treasures he has kept.
But then Wei Ying smiles, a demure, clever smile, and he whispers conspiratorially, “gege, you’ve been holding me down for so long now, wouldn’t it be much easier if you tied me up?” and for a moment Lan Wangji can only stare, struck absolutely dumb by the mischief and delight in Wei Ying’s expression-
I must have you.
Lan Wangji takes him. He has him forcefully, shuddering as Wei Ying cries out pathetically, baring his neck and making little breathy, choked sounds, whimpering and telling Lan Wangji how big he is, how strong he is, whining that Lan Wangji could do anything to him and he wouldn’t be able to fight back at all-
Lan Wangji holds him down, pinning him in place amidst the bedsheets. He pulls him up into his lap, and holds him, kisses the pearl earring in his ear, nips at his earlobe, bites up and down his neck, squeezes bruises into his soft skin.
How are you like this , he thinks, as Wei Ying cries and begs him for more, as he slurs into Lan Wangji’s ear about all the wild things Lan Wangji could do to him- as he whines that Lan Wangji is being too rough, going too hard- as he begs Lan Wangji not to stop -
Stay , Lan Wangji thinks. Stay with me. Here. Never leave me.
And then he realizes he is whispering it, breathing Wei Ying’s name like it is his salvation, begging, “ Stay. Wei Ying, stay with me ,” as he noses at the bite marks on Wei Ying’s neck-
And Wei Ying is coming, and oh- he is beautiful and still and quiet as his body is wracked with convulsions of pleasure, a little cry caught in his throat as he clings to Lan Wangji, to the bedsheets- spilling on himself so beautifully- he has come apart purely from Lan Wangji taking him- incredible, perfect boy -
Lan Wangji is overcome by his release. He holds Wei Ying fiercely close as he comes in waves, as he pumps his hot seed inside Wei Ying’s sweet little body, and Wei Ying whines, breathy and wanting, taking it so well - it feels inevitable, fated, like everything has aligned into perfect harmony, a product of some grand design, some marvelous generosity of the universe.
Wei Ying curls into his lap, in the afterglow. He nuzzles into Lan Wangji’s hip, eyes hazy and adoring, as he makes himself small and pathetic, a little cat seeking affection.
Lan Wangji feels, strangely, as if he might cry.
There could never be anyone more perfect, more uniquely intended for him than Wei Ying.
There could never be anyone more precious.
It is surprisingly easy, to take a person’s life. From a physical standpoint, the act itself is not difficult.
But at the thought of it, the thought of Wei Ying being taken from him, of how easy it would be for it to happen , Lan Wangji is stricken with a sudden, abject horror.
He trails his finger over the pearl earring in Wei Ying’s ear, feeling with a sudden viciousness that it is exactly where it belongs, that to add it to his collection would be an unthinkable perversion, would be as good as throwing away his own life.
Lan Wangji thinks of his father’s detached, cold gaze, as he cracked open a familiar black lacquer box full of wedding rings, stolen treasures in the moonlight- he thinks of the spill of blood that had raced across the floorboards that night- the sea of scorching flames-
And he knows, with sudden, piercing clarity, that to lose Wei Ying would create a deep fracture within him, a fracture that would never, ever resolve itself.
–
Later that night, Lan Wangji prepares them tea.
As they stand in the kitchen together, waiting for the water to boil, Lan Wangji is struck by the strangest sensation of peacefulness and completeness, as though he was just woken up from a long and empty dream, to find everything present as it should be, to find himself in the possession of something precious he hadn’t known he was missing.
Wei Ying is wearing one of Lan Wangji’s t-shirts, and it is pleasantly oversized on him. There is a trail of bruises, blossoming up and down the side of his neck. A drop of semen, racing carelessly down his bare leg like a bead of water after a shower.
There is a smile in his eyes, as he blows delicately on the surface of his tea and takes a sip, watching Lan Wangji all the while.
“Are you worried you put a baby in me, er-gege?” he asks, feigning innocence as he watches Lan Wangji tear his gaze from where it has drifted to the semen racing down his ankle, and oh- he is smiling so, so coyly, as though he has discovered some insufferable secret, some private weakness of Lan Wangji’s psyche, as though he is reveling in it-
He is like a dream.
Lan Wangji cannot bear to part with him.
He takes a step closer, and cradles Wei Ying’s cheek in his palm.
“Wei Ying,” he breathes, soft and imploring. “Stay.”
Wei Ying’s eyes go wide and uncertain, as though he doesn’t understand what Lan Wangji is asking him. But he is staring at Lan Wangji as if he is captivated, as if he cannot look away- and Lan Wangji has already taken him apart, has already felt out the bounds of Wei Ying’s resistance, held his desire in his hands, nurtured it and pushed it over the edge-
Lan Wangji gently strokes Wei Ying’s cheek with his thumb.
Do you feel it too? That we are intended for each other, that without each other, we would be lost, incomplete- always wanting-
“Wei Ying,” he clarifies, looking deeply into Wei Ying’s eyes, searching out all his uncertainties and desires, the fantasy of belonging, of being wanted, held, that Lan Wangji has partaken in. “Stay here. With me.”
Wei Ying’s lips part helplessly, as though he is speechless, as though he cannot believe what he is hearing. But there is something else in his eyes, a fantasy, a deeply buried and desperate want, that Lan Wangji understands like a resonant melody.
“Lan Zhan, I- I have an apartment of my own, I can’t- Lan Zhan, that would be crazy-”
Lan Wangji doesn’t say a word. He only strokes Wei Ying’s cheek soothingly, watching with deeply serious intensity the curious flicker of thoughts in Wei Ying’s gaze, the movement of his adam’s apple when he swallows.
“Lan Zhan… I- that’s- I really couldn’t-”
Lan Wangji kisses him, gentle and searching, like he is asking for permission. And Wei Ying whimpers and submits to it, melting into him like he cannot help himself-
Lan Wangji makes love to him. He guides him to the sofa, and lays him down gently, searching his beautiful, hesitant eyes with profound focus.
“Wei Ying,” he whispers, gentle like a secret. “Stay with me.”
And Wei Ying whimpers, a soft, faint protest, but Lan Wangji can see that he wants it- that he knows what they are- that they belong together-
Lan Wangji enters Wei Ying easily. He is obscenely soft and slick from when he had been taken earlier, and he cries out in satisfaction when he is filled, when Lan Wangji drives into his tender, wet little hole, beating his meat into him easily, as if they had been fucking moments before, and had only just changed positions- as if Wei Ying is truly his, to keep half-naked and fuck whenever he likes-
“Please-” Wei Ying whines, breathy and desperate, “Lan Zhan, please -”
Lan Wangji shudders and holds him close, searching his gaze as he takes him, gently stroking his soft hair, his delicate hands and wrists, the bruises on his thighs.
“Wei Ying,” he whispers, drawing on the delicate thread he has found, the one that tugs at something hidden and hurt in Wei Ying, some deeply pivotal neglect. “Stay with me. Let me take care of you.”
And Wei Ying’s eyes go watery, like he’s on the verge of tears.
“Lan Zhan- I- you can’t-”
Wei Ying’s voice is thick and choked, as Lan Wangji kisses his forehead, slowing his thrusts to a gentle, soothing motion.
“I can,” he assures, letting the desperation, the wild desire he is feeling creep into his tone. “ I want to . Wei Ying, please. Do not leave me.”
Wei Ying muffles a pathetic little whine into his hand, blinking back tears like he is at his breaking point.
“ Please , Lan Zhan, you- you can’t just say things like that-”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji whispers, his voice breaking slightly. “If you leave, I will not be able to bear it.”
And Wei Ying whimpers, a tear breaking loose and rolling down his temple.
“How are you like this- Lan Zhan, how can you say things like this to me -” he sniffles as if he is in disbelief, and another tear races down his temple. “I feel like I’m dreaming.”
Lan Wangji kisses the tears on his face, stroking his hair soothingly, reassuringly. There is a wild impulse inside him, an impulse that beats in synch with his heart, with lethal sincerity. An impulse that he will not be able to control, if it is provoked.
I cannot let you leave.
“Let’s stay in this dream,” he whispers, gently searching Wei Ying’s teary expression. “Together.”
And later, when they find release in each other, and ride out the waves of their pleasure, Wei Ying confesses to him with a teary smile.
“I’ll stay with you, Lan Zhan,” he whispers, his eyes hazy and entranced. “I’ll stay.”
And Lan Wangji crushes Wei Ying in his arms, holding him close and shuddering in relief.
–
Living with Wei Ying feels strangely like slipping into a fantasy, every day imbued with serene peace and joy that Lan Wangji has never known.
It is immensely pleasurable, to have Wei Ying sleeping in his bed, curled up on his sofa, to have curious little markers of Wei Ying’s presence in his living space.
And it is wildly, achingly pleasurable to care for Wei Ying, to cook for him and provide for him, to bear witness to all his playful demands, and underlying hesitancy. Wei Ying is easily undone by thoughtful gestures, and he delights in teasing Lan Wangji, in being able to talk and talk and talk, basking in Lan Wangji’s steady presence and attention like a playful cat resting in the sun.
Lan Wangji is distinctly under the impression that Wei Ying is testing his boundaries, searching for a moment where his steady demeanor will waver and he will become angry or inhospitable.
But Lan Wangji is driven by discipline, and patience. It has always come to him naturally, just as it had for his father.
He helps Wei Ying move his personal belongings over, within the first week.
Wei Ying’s possessions are minimal, a few suitcases and boxes that are easily packed into Lan Wangji’s car.
Lan Wangji is familiar with Wei Ying’s apartment, of course, having stalked him since his release from the hospital. But he has never been inside the space.
It’s a small studio, in a shady part of town. Wei Ying has lived here, alone, driven off by some dispute with his adoptive family. The building’s security is almost nonexistent. Lan Wangji is confident that he could break into Wei Ying’s apartment if he were to wedge a credit card into the seam of the door.
“I will cover the cost of breaking your lease,” he tells Wei Ying decisively, as they prepare to leave the space.
“Lan Zhan, you can’t do that- you really can’t do that, I’ve already told you, I-” Wei Ying falters, seeming a bit flustered. “I don’t make much money, Lan Zhan, everything you have is so nice, and I can’t afford anything like it- you’re already allowing me to stay with you for free, and I really don’t want to owe you anything-”
Lan Wangji grabs him gently by the jaw, looking him steadily in the eye.
“Wei Ying," he says simply. "I make 800,000 dollars a year.”
Wei Ying’s mouth drops open and his eyes go very wide.
“Money will never be an issue for us,” Lan Wangji continues, stroking his cheek affectionately. “If I spend money to take care of you, it is because I want to. There is nothing you will ever owe me.”
Later, when they are in the car, and Lan Wangji is driving them back to his apartment, Wei Ying watches him with something curious developing in his gaze.
“You like taking care of me,” he repeats, smiling soft and coy like he’s testing out an idea, seeking confirmation.
Lan Wangji gazes at him intently, when they come to a stop at a red light.
“I do,” he confirms, settling his hand on Wei Ying’s thigh and squeezing meaningfully. “I like it very much .”
And he does- he does like it very, very much- he likes it so much that he fucks Wei Ying about it everyday- sometimes in the morning, when they are in bed together, and Wei Ying is still hazy in the aftermath of sleep, or in the evening, when Wei Ying smiles at him and Lan Wangji is consumed with a burst of desire so sudden and intense that it is all he can think about, all he can imagine ever wanting-
Wei Ying, Wei Ying, Wei Ying …
Lan Wangji has him in bed. He has him in the kitchen, on the dining table, the sofa, on top of the laundry machine. He fucks him in the bathroom, bends him over the sink and watches him in the mirror- he has him in the shower, he guides Wei Ying to kneel on the wet tile floor and jerks off into his pretty, open mouth-
Lan Wangji likes Wei Ying so much that the other thing inside him- the impulse that whispers to him when he sees jewelry glinting on someone’s finger, when he finds a person especially fascinating or frustrating- begins to become secondary, a fleeting thought in his mind. The little wooden box of treasures he has kept is tucked away securely in his safe, a secret pleasure he has entertained, a bygone nostalgia-
But then, Lan Wangji learns about Wei Ying’s exes.
There are only a few, but when Lan Wangji learns about them, he studies them in exquisite detail.
When he learns what they have done to Wei Ying, how they have treated Wei Ying, Lan Wangji discovers a new depth of merciless calm in himself, a new creativity.
The first one is satisfying, beyond anything Lan Wangji has felt previously, when the impulse has compelled him to violence.
By the time Lan Wangji has worked his way through the list, and finished off Wen Xu and, as a treat, his pathetic brother Wen Chao, Lan Wangji has explored new impulses he never imagined for himself, new visceral cruelties that he had never dreamed of.
It would be impossible to stop, after having discovered such depth in himself, and committing such acts of devotion. So Lan Wangji doesn’t attempt to.
He watches the strangers in public, who interact with Wei Ying. The man who stares at Wei Ying just a little too long, the woman in the neighborhood who constantly frightens Wei Ying with her aggressive dog.
And Lan Wangji studies them. He studies each and every one of them, and when the time comes, he acts.
It is convenient, that his work schedule is so unpredictable. That he is on call, at such strange hours.
Wei Ying never questions it. He kisses Lan Wangji goodbye, and smiles when he returns. He crawls into his lap and kisses his neck, and giggles when Lan Wangji picks him up and tosses him onto the bed.
“I feel like I’m dreaming, er-gege,” he whispers into Lan Wangji’s ear, as he climbs into his lap and sinks down on him, riding him and winding his arms around his shoulders. “You are such a talented man. Your handwriting is so beautiful, I love it when you play the piano, and I love it when you cook for me. Did I mention how strong you are? How beautiful? You fuck me so well, I want your cock all the time, I dream about you fucking me whenever I’m alone- er-gege, why don’t you tie me up next time, so I’m waiting for you when you return-”
Of course, there are times when Wei Ying leaves the apartment, as well. His job at a coffee shop requires him to work a variable schedule, and often leaves him exhausted and irritated.
Lan Wangji is aware that Wei Ying isn’t likely to quit his job, if it were suggested to him directly, out of the blue. So instead, he decides to encourage Wei Ying’s other hobbies and pursuits, and let the conversation occur naturally, when the time is right.
“I love taking care of you,” he whispers to Wei Ying, as he hugs him from behind, holding him close with the weight of his clothed erection between them, hot and exciting. “I love coming home to you. I love making you happy.”
“You are such a talented artist,” he tells Wei Ying, when he sees the painting he has been working on in his spare time, in the studio space Lan Wangji has arranged in a spare bedroom. “Wei Ying, my brother manages an art gallery in the city, and this is exactly the type of work he is looking to feature-”
When Wei Ying protests, when he says that he wouldn’t have enough time to produce something like that, Lan Wangji kisses his forehead and strokes his hair and whispers, “You are very talented. Wei Ying, you deserve to have time to do the things you enjoy. It makes me happy to see the things you create.”
And eventually, when Wei Ying returns home on an especially frustrating day, he folds.
“It wasn’t a service dog, Lan Zhan, it was barking and running all over the store , and they wouldn’t put it on a leash -” he gasps, wiping furious tears from his eyes. “And I was the only one on shift because Xue Yang keeps fucking off from work and they won’t fire him! And I called the manager, but they told me I needed to ‘get over myself and deal with it,’ but I can’t just do that, Lan Zhan, I can’t - I’ve tried so many times -”
Lan Wangji holds Wei Ying when he breaks down in sobs.
“It is not right for them to treat you like this,” he tells Wei Ying, petting his hair and hugging him fiercely. “Wei Ying, that situation was not safe for you. I am so sorry, sweetheart.”
Later, when Wei Ying’s sobbing has settled, and Lan Wangji has arranged him on the sofa with tissues and a glass of water, he strokes Wei Ying’s cheek and looks him carefully in the eye.
“I hate to see you hurting like this. Why don’t you take a break from that place and spend some time working on your art?”
Wei Ying sniffles and protests, “Lan Zhan, I can’t- I know you have plenty of money and you don’t mind me staying here without paying rent or anything, but I- I don’t want to be totally useless, I can definitely contribute something, even if it’s just a little-”
Oh, sweet, precious Wei Ying. Lan Wangji cannot help but feel impossibly protective of him, when he is like this.
“Wei Ying, my brother reviewed the paintings you’ve been working on, and he believes you could make a significant profit if you were to open an exhibition at the gallery. Why don’t you try it out, to see if you like it?”
Wei Ying blinks several times and takes a shaky breath, and Lan Wangji waits for the deflection that he knows is coming.
“Lan Zhan, that’s- that’s crazy, you’ve already done so much for me- I can’t just take advantage of you and your brother like that- besides, my paintings are average at best, I never finished art school, so they really can’t be considered professional pieces-”
“Your paintings are incredible,” Lan Wangji tells him, patient and imploring, “and there is nothing that makes me happier than seeing you doing what you love, what you are so gifted at, and knowing that you are safe. Please try it, Wei Ying. For me.”
Days later, after Wei Ying has quit his job, Lan Wangji returns home from work and finds Wei Ying in the studio, deeply absorbed in a landscape, and something within him settles in resplendent satisfaction.
“What if I never make any money, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying asks him, while he is taking a break from his work. His hair is tied back, exposing the delicate line of his neck, and there is a smear of paint decorating his cheek. Kept in Lan Wangji’s apartment all day, occupied with his hobbies, Lan Wangji thinks he has never looked more beautiful.
“Are you worried that I will not provide for you?” Lan Wangji asks, deadpan. “That I do not enjoy it?”
And Wei Ying, ever receptive to his dry humor, bursts out laughing, “Lan Zhan! I didn’t mean- oh my gosh, I’m not kinkshaming you, I swear-”
Lan Wangji whispers into his ear, “You do not need to make money to be loved, Wei Ying.”
–
The phone call comes a few months later.
After many failed attempts to speak in person, to isolate Wei Ying and speak to him one-on-one, Wei Ying’s siblings have arranged a phone call.
Lan Wangji listens attentively, from the kitchen. He has headphones in, but they are for show. In truth, he is not listening to an audiobook while he cuts vegetables in preparation for dinner, but rather, easing any concerns Wei Ying may have about being overheard.
“A-Xian, we are a little concerned about how quickly you’ve moved in together.”
Jiang Yanli’s voice is soft and gentle, even over the speaker. She is very influential over Wei Ying. As such, Lan Wangji listens carefully to what she says.
“A-Jie,” Wei Ying whines, petulantly. “I thought you were happy for me.”
Jiang Yanli says something indecipherable, and then Jiang Wanyin’s voice cuts in, sharp and accusatory.
Lan Wangji listens carefully and catches the end of his rant.
“-and don’t you think it’s a little strange that all of your exes have turned up missing over the past few months? Plus, Lan Wangji was definitely skulking around your neighborhood, before you got together with him. I’ve been seeing that guy everywhere!”
“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Ying hisses into the phone. “Lan Zhan does not skulk -!”
“I’m just saying, I’ve definitely seen him around before! He’s been lurking around that grocery store close to your shitty apartment for months ! What would a doctor be doing in your crappy neighborhood?”
“Jiang Cheng, that’s rude, my old neighborhood was perfectly fine -”
“Besides, doesn’t his family own the hospital? What is he doing as a surgeon, when he could be working for the family business? Don’t you think it’s a little weird?”
The answer, of course, is that Lan Wangji enjoys working as a surgeon, enjoys holding a person’s life in his hands, exploring the finer details of their hidden anatomy. He enjoys seeing people at their physical and mental extremes, seeing the unerring truth in it.
It also helps that Lan Xichen allows him to make use of the facility to explore his… impulses. The private chambers and morgue hidden in the hospital’s design, omitted from any blueprints, have been crucial to his routines. Unrestricted access to the family-owned crematorium has been invaluable.
And there is the soft whisper of Lan Wangji’s mother, a faint memory, now, imparting her wishes, her kindness-
Be a doctor, A-Zhan , she had whispered with a gentle smile. Do good for people.
Lan Wangji will never forget the way her smile had faltered, that day. He will never forget the day she was taken from him. He will never forget the cold, empty expression on his father’s face. The way he had gazed upon the black lacquer box of stolen rings in the moonlight.
But Wei Ying is privy to none of this. He is truly innocent, as he attempts to rationalize it to Jiang Wanyin over the phone.
“Lan Zhan is very kind! He likes helping people-“
“A-Xian, didn’t you say you met him in the meat department?” Jiang Yanli interjects, ever observant and clever. “And isn’t he a vegetarian? Don’t you think that’s a little strange?”
“Lan Zhan cooks meat for me all the time! He bought a sous vide machine right after I moved in…” Wei Ying tries, distress clear in his voice. “He set up an entire art studio for me and he cooks for me and always makes time for me even when his schedule is busy-”
And then, Wei Ying breaks off his sentence with a terrible, hitching sob, and he whispers into the phone, his voice thick with emotion, “I- we- we love each other, I don’t know why you guys can’t just be happy for me-”
At once, Jiang Yanli softens.
“Oh, A-Xian… Jiejie is so sorry. So, so sorry.”
She continues, her voice whisper-soft and indistinguishable as Wei Ying sniffles into the phone, regaining his composure. Lan Wangji only manages to catch the end of what she is saying.
“... when A-Xuan wanted to court me properly, he wasn’t sure how to go about it. He spent weeks planning a vacation he wanted to invite me on, and swore to me that his mother was the one who planned the trip. A-Cheng, A-Xian, sometimes these things take time.”
Jiang Wanyin mutters something indistinguishable, and Jiang Yanli is quick to reprimand him.
“A-Cheng, I know you are worried, but just because Lan Wangji was shy in approaching A-Xian doesn’t mean he’s some sort of serial killer.”
“I’m not worried ,” Jiang Wanyin snaps. “I’m just telling you that guy is a walking red flag!”
Wei Ying sniffles, as though he is gathering himself for a rebuttal, but Jiang Yanli chimes in, calm and sweet, smoothing over the tension.
“Sometimes, love enters our lives unexpectedly. After everything that A-Xian has been through, I’m very happy that he has found someone who takes such good care of him,” she assures. “But A-Xian, we will always be here for you. Whatever happens, if you ever need anything, even just to talk, you can always call us.”
—
Weeks later, Lan Wangji finds himself in his office, the door carefully locked as he enters the combination to his safe and eases it open.
It is Christmas eve, and there is snow falling softly outside the windows, gentle and serene.
Lan Wangji retrieves two boxes from the safe, careful and fond, regarding the familiar weight of each one and settling them on his desk.
The first box is crafted from finely carved green sandalwood. It contains all manner of treasures Lan Wangji has kept - private little mementos, each one unique to a time, a place, a person. There are earrings and necklaces, bracelets and watches. Each one a person, an act of violence, and a moment of resplendent silence.
The second box is finished with an elegant black lacquer. It is achingly familiar, a gift Lan Wangji has treasured dearly - the only memento he has retained of his mother, the treasures she had kept.
Now, as he carefully cracks the fine black laquer open and gazes at the collection of wedding rings within, he thinks of Wei Ying, of how he can hardly wait to share the news with him-
There is a new hospital in his family’s portfolio, opening overseas, and he is needed there urgently- Wei Ying has always wanted to travel, and Lan Wangji has received word of a missing persons investigation that will be opening up soon, so the timing couldn’t be better-
Besides, it is no problem at all, for him to take care of Wei Ying’s passport and visa, and make arrangements for their future house. Lan Wangji has delighted in caring for Wei Ying, and this is no exception.
He knows Wei Ying will be nervous at first, hesitant at leaving his family, but ultimately delighted.
After all, Lan Wangji has arranged everything, has planned for this with careful deliberation.
He gazes at the many rings, sparkling in the box, and traces his fingers over them - all familiar, all beloved. But there is one in particular that calls out to him, one with a stunning diamond, impossibly unique, and perfectly suited to Wei Ying’s ring size.
Lan Wangji gently retrieves it from the box, and watches it sparkle in his palm, glistening in the soft light of the snow.
A promise. A binding commitment. A reminder of his mother, and all that she had shared with him, all the hidden parts of him that she had seen and understood.
He thinks about the place where she had been kept, the place where his father had locked her up like a caged bird. The place where his father had killed her, when he found that she had defied him, given into impulse and taken another life for her collection, the life of her friend’s teacher.
The way she had smiled at Lan Wangji, gentle and kind and loving, throughout it all.
Wei Ying will never know about the bloodshed behind this ring. He will never know about the violence and love it was born from, the legacy it carries. But it will sparkle on his finger, nonetheless.
Lan Wangji may take after his father in discipline and caution, but he has always been his mother’s son, where it counts.