Chapter Text
Hanguang-Jun’s thrill of victory at evading the guards, rappelling down into the storage area, and locating their target, evaporated into dust. His heart breaking, he watched the Yiling Laozu pull out the chip he’d been carefully guarding the entire trip and insert it into the MianMian 5500 chassis. Moments ago, the chassis had been lifeless, eyes empty and cold. But now it sprang to life, blinking as she turned her head to stare at the Yiling Laozu, expression mildly befuddled. The Yiling Laozu chuckled fondly. “MianMian, it’s me.” The android’s eyes widened, and then gave him a beatific smile. “Hi honey! Why are you wearing that mask?”
Hanguang-Jun didn’t know what hurt worse, that an android had the privilege of such intimate address with the man he loved, or that she clearly knew what he looked like unmasked. He turned away as Laozu chuckled again and said he would explain later. “We must leave, now,” Hanguang-jun gritted out. He berated himself for feeling this way. He’d known since the moment he was hired that this would be the outcome.
He turned back to the pair, his gaze helplessly straying to the MianMian who was now regarding him with wide-eyed curiosity. His eyes skimmed over her delicate features, her slim frame, her confident posture. Even her clothes were stylish and feminine, though that wasn’t to say she’d continued to wear this sort of thing as she evolved past her default setting.
He could see why she was a coveted model, but it didn’t change the fact that she was a machine. Lust was one thing. It wouldn’t matter if a body was made of circuits and wires on the inside. But love? How could the Yiling Laozu love her when everything about her personality came down to programming and machine learning?
Hanguang-jun realized he’d been staring too long - the Yiling Laozu stepped into his line of sight, his eyes narrowed. “You like MianMian? I thought you weren’t interested in androids.”
Hanguang-jun schooled his features to hide his pain. He couldn’t believe he would ask him that, when only hours earlier they had been locked in a passionate embrace. “I was merely curious what it is about her that was worth all the expense and danger you’ve put us in.” Yiling Laozu’s eyebrow raised a fraction, inviting his opinion. “Boring.”
He could feel no triumph at Laozu’s shocked expression. He had other things to think about, namely their escape. Hanguang-jun strode towards the exit, his weapon at the ready for the fresh batch of guards that he knew were on their way. They exited the building and headed straight for the turbo-prop plane that they had flown in to get here. Hanguang-jun had put in a lot of hard work to get the relic up and running for their trip to the warehouse, he could only hope it had one last flight left in it.
When bullets started flying, Hanguang-jun provided cover as they ran, picking off each guard one by one until the last of this set were taken care of. It wasn’t over yet, though. He could see vehicles in the distance, desert dust billowing in their wake. He knew one of those vehicles likely carried their nemesis, Wen Zhuliu.
The three of them climbed into the plane, the Yiling Laozu sliding into the pilot’s seat. Hanguang-jun watched tensely as the vehicles closed in, mitigated only slightly when the plane started to taxi.
His relief as he felt the plane lift was short-lived when it came back down almost immediately. The Laozu tried two more times to take off, without success. They looked at each other in realization. “Too heavy,” Hanguang-jun said, tonelessly.
He knew what he had to do. Wen Zhuliu wasn’t interested in Hanguang-jun. He wanted the Yiling Laozu. He wanted the MianMian. If they didn’t escape now, they would be captured and taken to Wen Zhuliu’s boss. That absolutely could not happen. Hanguang-jun braced himself, ignoring the Laozu’s shouted assurances that they’d make lift-off. Hanguang-jun leapt from the plane, ignoring the pain shooting through him as he landed in the desert sand and rolled several times. When he came to a stop, he opened his eyes to see the plane soar into the air.
Hanguang-jun took a few moments to recover from getting the wind knocked out of him, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t see the man he fell in love with disappear from sight. Finally, he eased himself into a sitting position and looked over at the abandoned casino where the MM5500 had been stored. Then he looked over to his left where Wen Zhuliu’s vehicles were closing in.
Hanguang-jun stood, wincing at the pain shooting through his right leg, and tugged at the shotgun strapped against his back. He knew he would be captured, but he could at least take out as many of them as possible. When they got close enough, he started shooting. There were only three cars, and he managed to disable two of them before he ran out of ammunition. He felt a sliver of disappointment that neither of them was Wen Zhuliu’s car. If he managed to kill or incapacitate Wen Zhuliu, there was a greater likelihood that he would be captured alive instead of killed on the spot or taken somewhere to be tortured before being turned over to his boss.
When Wen Zhuliu was several yards away, there was a roaring sound as his car was divebombed by an airplane. The Yiling Laozu’s plane! Hanguang-jun’s eyes widened in shock. Wen Zhuliu slammed on his brakes and stuck his head out the window to see the plane land behind him, opposite from where Hanguang-jun stood.
They watched as the MianMian climbed out of the plane. She waved. “Hello there!” Hanguang-jun realized she was artificially amplifying her voice to be heard over the noise of the plane as it started to taxi towards Hanguang-jun’s direction. “I have been set to self-destruct unless you remove my chip in the next 60 seconds. 1…2…3…”
Wen Zhuliu cursed and immediately gunned his engine, peeling off towards the android. He passed the plane, not even slowing down. Wen Zhuliu wasn’t stupid. As much as his boss wanted to capture the Yiling Laozu, he wanted the android and chip in one piece even more. Wen Zhuliu’s life would be forfeit if it were destroyed.
Hanguang-jun tried to pretend the tears stinging his eyes were due to the dust billowing up as the plane approached. It had no sooner come to a stop than Laozu was bursting out of the cockpit and stumbling over to kneel by his side. His eyes darted over the wound visible through his torn pant leg. He reached out a shaking hand, stopping short of touching it. “Hanguang-jun! Are you alright? Is it broken?” He stood, and his eyes widened when he saw a tear roll down Hanguang-jun’s cheek. “Where does it hurt? I need to carry you to the plane, but don’t want to aggravate any injuries.”
Still feeling overwhelmed by what just happened, Hanguang-jun shook his head, mumbling, “I’m fine. I can walk.”
He began to step forward, and when he faltered a little, Yiling Laozu slipped his arm around his waist, pulling him close. “Please, let me,” he whispered in his ear, and Hanguang-jun shivered.
He turned his head, his nose brushing against the Yiling Laozu’s. He was close, so close. “You…you came back for me. You had what you wanted, why…?”
“Ah, Hanguang-jun, Hanguang-jun. She was what I thought I wanted, a companion who wouldn’t betray me. That was what seemed to matter the most.” He shook his head, and Hanguang-jun remembered the night before when the Yiling Laozu had drunkenly shared about the family he loved turning on him. “This whole trip I wasn’t sure if I could trust you for anything other than what you were being paid to do. I wanted to, especially after last night, but this morning…”
Hanguang-jun felt his face flame at the reminder that when he thought Laozu had been sleeping, he hadn’t been able to resist picking up the device that held the chip, wanting to hear the voice of the Yiling Laozu’s cherished companion. It had led to a raging argument when he was caught with it.
The Yiling Laozu cupped Hanguang-jun’s cheek with his shaking palm. “Hanguang-jun, you sacrificed yourself for me. You let me go and faced Wen Zhuliu alone. What kind of man would I be to let that happen?” Hanguang-jun cast his eyes down. He was glad to hear that the Yiling Laozu was a man of integrity, but a small part of him wished there had been more to it than that.
There was a shout in the distance. Wen Zhuliu must have reached the android and averted its destruction. If he saw they were still on the ground, he’d waste no time going after them. The Yiling Laozu reached down and swept Hanguang-jun into his arms, trotting briskly the short distance to the plane. They climbed into the cockpit. The engine was still running, so they were ready to go, but the Yiling Laozu paused and turned to him.
“Hanguang-jun, I didn’t think there was a chance in hell that I could find love with a living, breathing person. Not with the life I lead. But you’ve made me believe it’s possible.” He reached his hand up to brush his fingers against his mask. “You’ve made me wonder if I could have something real…with someone who would help guard my secret.” He bit his lip, then dropped his hand as he leaned forward to plant a hungry kiss on Hanguang-jun’s lips.
Hanguang-jun melted into the kiss, ignoring the twinge of disappointment that the mask was still in place. But the fact that they’d gotten this far, that the Yiling Laozu had given up his android companion to save him…it meant something. It was a seed of hope.
The Yiling Laozu reluctantly broke the kiss so he could pilot the plane away from Wen Zhuliu and the desert hellscape they’d spent the last week navigating. As they achieved lift off and soared into the air, Hanguang-jun’s heart soared as well.
***
Lan Zhan inhaled a steadying breath as he saved the document, his throat tight with emotion. Brushing a tear from his cheek, he took several more breaths to settle himself and return to a state of calm. He’d done it. The last chapter was finished. He’d give it a cold read tomorrow and make small edits. He rarely needed to change anything significantly. He always committed to every word as he typed it.
He set the laptop aside and stood up from his sofa, stretching lightly. He felt something shuffling at his feet and looked down to see his snowy white rabbit sniffing at his socks. He reached down and gave him a gentle scritch around the ears. “I’ve finished the book, Sizhui. Care to celebrate?” Sizhui’s response was to start nibbling on the toe of his sock.
Smiling softly, Lan Zhan went into the kitchen and began to prepare a pot of tea for himself, using his very best tea set. His uncle would frown on the use of it outside of ‘important’ company, not understanding that Lan Zhan never had company of any kind.
He arranged everything on his coffee table, and as the tea steeped he flicked on the electric fireplace and lit the candles on the mantle. It was a romantic tableau, but he was wearing flannel pajamas with a cloud pattern and his companion was a rabbit. He poured a cup of tea for himself and set a saucer of dandelion greens in front of Sizhui. He gazed fondly as the rabbit began munching on the greens, his little whiskered cheeks wiggling furiously.
Lan Zhan sat back, sinking slightly into the soft cushions of his sofa as he sipped his tea and stared into the fire. After a few moments his eyes strayed over to the dining area where the framed poster his brother had gifted him hung. It was one of multiple book covers from his bestselling first novel, which had introduced the characters Hanguang-Jun and the mysterious Yiling Laozu. This particular cover from the German edition did not feature Hanguang-jun, instead showcasing the Yiling Laozu alone. The artist had framed the cover by having the character fill it entirely, no background, just the Yiling Laozu in a black embroidered jacket with red trim and a matching mask covering the top half of his face. The title of the book, The Untamed, curved down one jacket lapel. Lan Zhan’s pen name, Lan Wangji, went down the other. Huan-ge had chosen to make this particular cover into a poster as a joke, knowing that it would fluster Lan Zhan to have the intense gaze of the Yiling Laozu follow him no matter where he was in the main area of the condo.
Now, he didn’t feel flustered so much as…melancholic. Likely he felt that way about completing the book, this new adventure of his beloved characters at an end. For now. Lan Zhan met the gaze of his romantic hero and held up his cup of tea. “Here’s to you, Yiling Laozu…whoever you are.”
***
“I can’t believe you still haven’t revealed the identity of the Yiling Laozu!” Jin Zixuan glared at him reproachfully. Lan Zhan simply smirked into his lime and soda. They’d been over this many times before. The reveal would not happen until the third book. That’s the way of trilogies.
His editor’s pique was probably due to the reveal being teased in that last moment of the book. Lan Zhan gestured with his glass. “Make sure when the book is printed, that the reader will have to turn the page to see that the mask has not in fact been taken off.”
Jin Zixuan snorted as he sipped his old-fashioned. “It’s going to drive your fans absolutely crazy. The Yiling Laozu’s identity is all anyone talks about. So many fan theories are going to rise and fall after this book gets released. You’re getting pretty good at knowing how to market your story.”
Lan Zhan shrugged. “You’ve been coaching me well.”
“When it comes to your books, sure. Not so much with pairing you up.” Jin Zixuan looked around the bar lounge, which was full of people but not too noisy or chaotic. He’d known that Lan Zhan would have walked out if it had been anything approaching a typical nightclub.
Lan Zhan stayed put, but he was still deeply annoyed at his editor’s choice of meeting location. This bar was popular with people who wanted to pair up, whether it was for the night or a potential date. Not only was he not interested in either, but the way they went about it made him deeply uncomfortable and sad.
Lan Zhan was given to understand that, many years ago, people looking for a romantic connection went about it more organically – walk up to someone they find pleasing to the eye, buy them a drink, make small talk. If he was honest with himself, that method of meeting someone would have given him anxiety anyway. He was not one for social graces and people found him very hard to read. Huan-ge once told him that the current method should have appealed to Lan Zhan more, given his difficulties with expressing himself. But how it was done nowadays was somehow worse.
The evolution had gone from meeting new people in person, to dating apps where potential couples found each other online, then reverting back to meeting in person but now with an electronic resume in hand. The reason why there was not a lot of noise in the bar was because people weren’t talking to each other. They’d sit down and hand each other a chip. When inserted into a device, it would tell their would-be lover all about them, their medical test results, and even include pictures of what they look like naked. Some even went so far as to have clips from past sexual experiences. That was just for the hook-ups. Those who were interested in dating brought their lawyers. Agreements were drawn up.
Jin Zixuan sighed. “I guess I can’t blame you. I’m straight and even I can tell this place is full of losers. The lawyers look like better dating options than their clients. Hmm, what about that guy? He’s been giving you the eye all night.”
Lan Zhan reluctantly turned to the man in question and immediately wanted to cringe. He looked back at Zixuan before they made eye contact. He shook his head. “He’s just not…”
“The Yiling Laozu?” Zixuan gave him an admonishing look.
Lan Zhan gripped his glass tighter. “I know you think I’m silly for thinking this sort of place is…appalling. It’s not romance, it’s business.”
Zixuan shrugged. “This is what it’s like between humans in this day and age. You want the perfect romantic lover, you have to get an android.” He leaned closer. “I have some connections in my father’s R&D unit, it would be easy to mock up a chassis that looks like the Yiling Laozu.”
Lan Zhan suppressed a shudder and glared at his friend. “You know my feelings about androids, you just read my latest manuscript.” He pushed his glass away. “I want a real connection with a real person. And I know there are others out there that want the same thing, or else my book wouldn’t be a best seller.”
Zixuan shook his head. “Your book doesn’t sell because people want what’s in there. It’s a fantasy. And they understand it’s a fantasy. I wish you did.”
Lan Zhan stared down at the carved patterns in the bar top. “At least it’s romance between two flesh and blood people. Androids are the fantasy. I don’t understand why people like my brother think it’s preferable to something real.”
“Because real people hurt each other all the time. No one’s breaking their heart over an android.”
Lan Zhan looked up at him. “My brother did.”
Zixuan’s eyebrows went up. “What do you mean? Something happened with the Dage?”
Lan Zhan inhaled a deep breath. “It’s been kept out of the news, but yes, something did happen. Huan-ge came home from work last week to find Dage on the floor in the kitchen, non-functioning. Huan-ge took out the memory chip to make sure it was okay, and put it in his safe while he called his android tech.” Lan Zhan’s fists clenched as he told a stunned Zixuan that while Huan-ge was on the phone, he was knocked out from behind.
“My brother was alright, but by the time he woke up, he could see that someone had attempted to open the safe. When he went back to the kitchen, the Dage was completely dismembered.”
Zixuan stared in horror. “I’ve heard of people stealing androids, but destroying them?” He shook his head. “So random!”
Lan Zhan swallowed. “It isn’t, though. Huan-ge found out from the android tech that someone has been going around dismantling Dage 2000s. It’s rumored that even the original design has been destroyed.”
Zixuan ran his hand over his face. “I can’t believe I haven’t heard about that, given it was one of my father’s models. But I get he’d want to keep it out of the press. Lan Zhan, I’m so sorry that happened to Lan Huan. Look, if he wants to try one of the new models, I can ask my father to arrange a showing.”
Lan Zhan waved his hand. “Huan-ge’s very set on trying to get ahold of another Dage.”
Zixuan blew out a breath. “What are the odds there’s any left? Especially since the other people who lost their Dages will also be looking.”
Lan Zhan shook his head. “My brother was the only one who recovered the memory chip. In the other cases, the chips were also destroyed with the bodies. Without the chips to give the chassis life, they’d be wasting their time.”
Lan Zhan tapped his finger against the bar top. “I think Huan-ge must have interrupted them and they knocked him out to finish the job.” He tapped again. “I’m genuinely afraid that they’ll come back for the chip. Like I said, they tried to get into the safe, they must have watched him put it in there. Whoever this is, it’s important to them to completely destroy the Dages. So far they don’t seem to want their identity known or they would have threatened my brother after he woke up. But they may change their mind if Huan-ge does find another chassis. And they might not stop at destroying just the android.”
***
Lan Zhan stopped on the way home at a flower shop he frequented often because they made sure not to treat their stock with anything not safe for rabbits. He saw a bouquet of cornflowers in a lovely shade of blue that sparked joy. Prior to getting Sizhui, he’d never bought himself flowers. He saw it as a romantic gesture rather than something he could do for himself to brighten his day. But after he started buying a few stalks at a time for his rabbit to snack on, he realized it wasn’t that much more costly to buy an entire bouquet. What Sizhui didn’t eat he could put in a vase on his dinette table.
As soon as he approached the door to his condo, he felt rather than saw the wrongness of it. How many times had he written about skin crawling, and this was the first time he experienced how apropos the imagery was. Lan Zhan knew before he opened the door that it would be upsetting, and he was right.
The first actual sign of something wrong when he opened the door was the framed picture of himself with his brother and uncle. It usually sat atop the narrow table in his foyer where he also kept a bowl for his keys. It was now face down on the floor.
While it was theoretically possible that Sizhui had escaped his confinement and hopped up onto the table and knocked the frame over…it was extremely unlikely. The two times Sizhui escaped in the past, he had gone straight to Lan Zhan’s bedroom to where his scent was the strongest.
Lan Zhan was a worrier who constantly assumed the worst possible outcome of any scenario, and in most cases it was an unnecessary drain of his energy. On those rare occasions he was right, he could feel his body go into a state of hyperfocus and calm to get him through whatever trauma was awaiting him.
Lan Zhan opened the door wider. While a part of him wanted to pick up the picture frame to see if the glass was broken, he knew bending down would leave him vulnerable. Instead, he cautiously entered the main area of his condo. The sight that greeted him was more than he had bargained for. The destruction was somehow both focused and random. It was clear that an intruder had been looking for something based on the way drawers were open and cushions dislodged. But at the same time there were items crushed and smashed, possibly in rage over not finding what they sought.
Lan Zhan trembled at seeing his personal space and possessions violated, skin crawling at the possibility the intruder was still there. As much as he wanted to back out of the condo and escape to freedom, he had to find out whether Sizhui had been harmed. He made his way over to his office where the hutch was kept, seeing the door was open where usually it was shut.
Lan Zhan’s heart pounded in fear as he approached the doorway. He could see signs of a search, similar to the main area - his desk drawers open, debris everywhere. He glanced over to his bedroom, the door also open where it would normally be shut. Visible from where he stood, he saw the mattress had been stripped and upended.
The hutch was in the far corner of the office. His heart leapt in his throat when he saw the door to the hutch was open. He almost couldn’t bear to check to see what the intruder might have done in their anger. As he approached the hutch, passing the closet where he kept his off-season wardrobe, someone came bursting out, knocking him to the ground as they raced past him. He heard the front door slam against the wall in the intruder’s haste to flee the condo.
Despite the wind being knocked out of him, Lan Zhan crawled over to the hutch and peered inside the little tree-shaped hidey hole where Sizhui sometimes inserted himself when he was feeling grumpy. He saw Suzhui’s little nose and started to feel hope. “Suzhui,” he breathed, hoping to coax him out. The nose twitched. He was alive. He slowly reached his hand in, making little pspsps noises. After a moment, the rabbit crept out of the hole and sniffed his hand. Very slowly, Lan Zhan gave gentle little strokes to his fur. He could feel the rabbit’s tremors, matching his own shaking fingers.
Flooded with relief that his pet appeared unhurt, Lan Zhan looked over at the closet where the intruder had hidden himself. He realized that he must have interrupted whatever they might have done to Sizhui if given more time. The relief evaporated and he suddenly felt sick. Gingerly withdrawing his hand from the hutch, Lan Zhan lurched to his feet and stumbled to the bathroom to be sick.
After clearing away the awful taste with some mouthwash, he pulled out his cell phone to call the police. He flinched violently when it started vibrating in his hand. His brother’s name was on the screen. He accepted the call. “Huan-ge, I can’t talk right now, I have to…”
“Zhan-di?” Lan Zhan froze. He’d never heard his brother sound this way before. “Zhan-di, I’m in trouble. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
Lan Zhan straightened, dread pooling as he realized this call could not be a coincidence. “Why are you sorry?”
“I thought it would be safe with you. And now you’re in danger.”
Lan Zhan felt something click into place, knowing the answer before he even asked. “You thought what would be safe?”
He heard his brother hitch a sob and his fingers curled into a fist. “The chip. I mailed you Dage’s chip. It’s in your P.O. Box. Have you checked it this week?”
Lan Zhan had a P.O. Box used for fan mail. He usually went there once a week, and it had only been several days since the last trip. “I haven’t. What do you need me to do?”
He heard a shuffling noise, and then his blood ran cold when another voice came on the line, calling him by his pen name. “Lan Wangji, your brother’s concern about your safety is very sweet considering his own predicament. He probably should have led with that. You see, we have Lan Huan in our possession. And he’ll stay here until you get the chip from the mailbox and bring it to us.” The calm, soft tone of his voice somehow sounded more chilling than if it had been rough and threatening.
“Who are you?” he gritted out.
There was a light chuckle. “That’s an irrelevant question. What you should be asking is where am I, so you can deliver the chip to me and get your brother back.”
Lan Zhan started to feel sick again and leaned his head against the wall. “Just tell me what I need to do.”
“I love a cooperative spirit. After you retrieve the chip and text a picture of it to your brother, pack an overnight bag. It’s a little bit of a journey.”
A journey? “Just where exactly are you?”
“Somewhere that’s safe for me, but maybe not for you. I’ll text you the general destination for now. You’ll get a more precise location when you are closer.”
Lan Zhan’s phone buzzed and he clicked on the link he was texted, not even caring that it might be a virus of some sort. It took a moment to register, and he felt a spike of horror. “Zone 7? You have my brother in Zone 7?”
“Again asking irrelevant questions. The more important thing is to work out how you’re going to get here, safely. I would recommend hiring a tracker.”
Lan Zhan blinked. “A tracker?”
“I know you’ve probably done a lot of research on trackers for your books, but don’t make the mistake of thinking that research means expertise. Better to get an actual professional.”
Lan Zhan sucked in a breath to quell the dizziness he was feeling. “I can’t go to Zone 7,” he whispered. This whole thing was crazy. It wasn’t real life. He wrote adventures, he had no desire to be in one.
“Zhan-di?” His brother’s tremulous voice was faint. Lan Zhan squeezed his eyes shut as Huan-ge said, “You don’t have to do this. We’ll get the chip to him some other way.”
“There is no other way.” The voice was muffled, as if turned away. “We already took a chance going to fetch you when we thought you’d have the chip on you. We’re not risking going back for it. It will have to be brought to us.”
Lan Zhan frowned. “What about the person who was just here? I could give it to him.”
“What person?” The voice sharpened, and Lan Zhan could hear his brother choking out his name.
“You didn’t send him? Someone ransacked my home and ran out when I came in.”
He heard a string of curses and then a muffled hiss, “What did you do, Minshan? You put him up to this, didn’t you?”
A distant voice in a wheedling tone said, “I thought it would be better if he got the chip for us.”
“I don’t pay you to think! You know he’s not trustworthy. There’s no telling what he’d do if he got his hands on it. You’ve put our one chance of getting this chip in danger.”
He heard the man take several slow breaths in and out. “Lan Wangji, do yourself a favor and stay somewhere else tonight so you can be safe and sound for your trip tomorrow. You’re the only one who can do this, so I need you in one piece. Hire a tracker to guide you and make sure they are competent. And I wouldn’t recommend telling them about the chip. Or anyone else for that matter. Look at all the trouble it’s brought you and your brother so far.”