Archive of Our Own ^beta

What if Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian were on one of those really packed slow trains leaving Guangzhou during Lunar New Year? Hard seat; 60 hours. Bags everywhere. They’re assigned the same seat because Lan Wangji accidentally bought a fake ticket from a 黄牛. Enemies to lovers?

Where do I even start with this trope? Obviously, Lan Wangji, realising his mistake, stiffly says that he’ll get off the train and find another ticket. Wei Wuxian says, “HOWWW? It’s Lunar New Year, that’s impossible , even first class flights are all bought out! We’ll make do!” 

It’s a window seat. Wei Wuxian offers to stand for an hour while Lan Wangji sits, and for them to switch places every hour. They manage to do this for maybe two hours before Lan Wangji starts feeling really bad –– since Wei Wuxian is the one who’d gotten his ticket legitimately –– and just offers to stand. 

The aisle seat is taken up by a grandma with a child in her lap who keeps pointing at the window with wonder, so Wei Wuxian also offers to switch seats with them. Now the shared Wangxian seat is the aisle seat, which means that every time someone jostles the packed carriage aisle, Lan Wangji’s crotch gets shoved right into Wei Wuxian’s face. 

Also, I love you guys but calm down and be patient.

Anyway. Soon it’s lunch time, and everyone on the train starts getting snacks, packed lunches, and instant noodles out of plastic bags. It’s pretty chaotic, but what can you do? No matter how you feel about eating on trains, the smell of food will make you hungry.

Lan Wangji needs to stretch his legs, so Wei Wuxian hands him his 康师傅-brand extra extra extra spicy beef noodles to fill with hot water at the dispenser, which Lan Wangji does and brings back to him.

Wei Wuxian: “Wait… you’re not eating?”

Lan Wangji, who decided to forgo meals for the entire train ride because he finds it gross and a hassle: 😐

Wei Wuxian: “Well… I have plenty of noodles. Do you want to share with me?”

Lan Wangji, seeing how red the soup is: O_____O

Wei Wuxian kind of clocks that Lan Wangji would not really survive these noodles. So he digs out some of his other snacks. He has a lot of those, including literally just plain crackers. The crackers are what Lan Wangji ends up accepting –– TO BE POLITE, but because he’s actually hungry or anything. 

By the way, I think I totally threw enemies-to-lovers out of the window, sorry. The real enemy here is capitalism, anyway. The hero is train networks and mass transportation infrastructure. Okay, moving on.

While they eat –– Wei Wuxian loudly and very indecorously slurping his noodles, Lan Wangji slowly munching on some truly tasteless sachima (they were a “new year’s gift” from Wei Wuxian’s cheap-ass boss) –– the two of them start to chat a bit. Or at least Wei Wuxian talks extensively (with his mouth full!) and Lan Wangji literally cannot leave, so he stays and listens. 

Wei Wuxian keeps things vague because, like, even if he does instinctively trust this hot train guy with the mean face and stern looks, they are surrounded by dozens of strangers. Lan Wangji gets to find out that Wei Wuxian is from Wuhan, but he’s not headed to Wuhan first. (There’s a high-speed train between Guangzhou and Wuhan that can get you across 1000 km in four hours.) Wei Wuxian’s on this train to Beijing to run an errand on behalf of his friends, the Wens. 

That’s some errand , Lan Wangji thinks. 

Wei Wuxian also talks about his mundane job at some factory in Dongguan, the dorms he lives in (“This train carriage is nothing compared to have to fight for the showers first thing in the morning, Lan Zhan!!” –– right: Lan Wangji has, at some point, given Wei Wuxian his familiar name, for some reason), and the money that Wei Wuxian is saving up to help with his sister’s son. She’s in the process of moving to Shanghai to get her son into a good school district, but the hukou business is unbelievably complex, even with her nouveau-riche husband.

“I live in Shanghai,” Lan Wangji blurts out before he can stop himself. Stupid . Why would he say that? It’s not like he’s volunteering to help with Wei Wuxian’s (Wei Ying’s) sister. 

But the grin that spreads across Wei Wuxian’s face kind of makes it worth it. “That’s so cool!” he says. He starts asking a million questions about what part of Shanghai Lan Wangji lives in, what his favorite spots are, what he thinks of the museums. Wei Wuxian visited once last year and thinks the Bund is overrated, and that the French Concession was fine (“But don’t let the French know I said that. They don’t deserve anything.”); mainly Wei Wuxian was there to eat his heart out and hang out with his nephew. 

Lan Wangji tries his best to answer these questions, which aren’t things he’s ever really thought about before, since he grew up in the city. But everything he says seems to delight Wei Wuxian –– Wei Wuxian’s eyes shine and he props his chin in his hands, nodding seriously along to Lan Wangji’s words. 

“Hold on,” Wei Wuxian says after a while. “Then what are you doing in Guangzhou? And Beijing for that matter?” 

So Lan Wangji has to be like… long story short, his uncle runs one of those cram school tutoring things and wants to open a chapter in Guangzhou, and Lan Wangji is in charge of that expansion. Lan Wangji is actually just a teacher at the school (French; Wei Wuxian reddens when he realises he’s just dissed the French in front of a French teacher) and this is usually Lan Xichen’s job, but Lan Xichen is currently abroad. 

Lan Wangji lets Wei Wuxian assume that he’s headed to Beijing to do more work for his uncle, instead of the truth, which is that Lan Xichen has actually decided to settle abroad and has asked Lan Wangji to pick up their father’s ashes from the cemetery in Beijing and fly it to Lan Xichen. In other words, after this 60-hour trip, Lan Wangji is then getting on a flight across the Pacific, to Toronto. Also… there’s the whole ashes thing, which Lan Wangji doesn’t really know how to feel about. He’s kind of just… not thought about it? Lan Xichen can do whatever he wants with Father’s ashes, Lan Wangji supposes? 

Anyway, Wei Wuxian latches on to the fact that Lan Wangji is going to be in Guangdong a lot in the future, and starts recommending places for Lan Wangji to visit (“You should set up your school in Dongguan! It’s quite nice here, you know, not just factories!”) and gesticulating wildly with how excited he is. 

He doesn’t notice the still-full disposable bowl of noodles until it’s too late.

The two of them watch, horrified, as the cup is knocked over by Wei Wuxian’s hands. Soup spills everywhere as though in slow motion –– the table, Wei Wuxian’s lap, everyone’s bags, and even a couple of drops on the toddler, who starts crying. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji apologise profusely, of course. 

Lan Wangji has, like, seven packs of tissues on him (obviously) which he hands out to the passengers around them, but Wei Wuxian needs cleaning up, and they can be more efficient if they wet a cloth with hot water from the dispenser. So Wei Wuxian goes and Lan Wangji follows, blaming himself. 

Wei Wuxian, nervous and panicked both about the spill and about Lan Wangji’s whole deal in general, continues to chatter nervously as he cleans up. He takes off several layers because everything is wet. (Lan Wangji does not miss the sliver of stomach from when Wei Wuxian pulls off his sweater and his shirt rides up.)

The whole time this is happening, the two of them are still squeezed between all the train passengers –– a lot of whom are just sitting on top of their own bags, shelling peanuts. Some are playing cards, others watching TikToks at full volume, the repetitive music joining the din of the train. When they’re done cleaning up by the hot water dispenser, Lan Wangji notices that Wei Wuxian is shivering –– he’s only in a T-shirt now –– so Lan Wangji takes off his own blazer to drape over Wei Wuxian’s shoulders. Wei Wuxian only pretends not to need/want the blazer like 3 times before begrudgingly accepting. This may be the South, but it still gets cold. 

They go back to their seat, only to find that… it’s been stolen. 

“What the fuck,” Wei Wuxian says to the teenage girl who seems to have materialised out of nowhere. She’s got earphones on and uses that to pretend not to hear him. “Excuse me??? 美女??”

Lan Wangji doesn’t like that Wei Wuxian is calling her 美女, even though that’s what you call all women strangers under 40.^[1]  

“Where are your parents?!” Wei Wuxian demands. 

Only then does the girl react. With (practiced?) ease, she snaps photos of both Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, then furiously types something into her phone before showing Wei Wuxian the screen. She’s written: go away, or ill make a weibo post saying you and your boyfriend tried to mug me.

“WHAT,” Wei Wuxian shrieks. Heads turn. 

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, putting a placating hand on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder, from which the borrowed blazer has been threatening to slip off.

“Lan Zhan can you believe kids these days are you just gonna let this little rascal walk all over us this is absurd ––” Wei Wuxian rants as Lan Wangji steers him away. Lan Wangji picks up one of Wei Wuxian’s many duffels from beside the seat and walks them down the aisle until he finds a space, several carriages down, with enough floor space for the both of them to settle for the remainder of the train ride. 

“Wait here,” Lan Wangji tells Wei Wuxian before returning for the rest of their things. 

Wei Wuxian grumbles more about keeping an eye on the girl and stealing their seat back at the first opportunity, to which Lan Wangji internally shrugs. Considering Lan Wangji was planning to stay standing the whole trip anyway, he doesn’t really are about the seat. Besides, it is a 14-year-old girl. There’s not much he and Wei Wuxian can do about the injustice. He does feel bad for Wei Wuxian, though, so he arranges their stuff into a soft seat on the floor and sits Wei Wuxian down on it. Oh, and, he fishes out Wei Wuxian’s bag of snacks, which occupies Wei Wuxian’s mouth for a bit.

So Lan Wangji stands and Wei Wuxian sits. And they chat a bit more. It’s good. It’s actually kind of better than back at their assigned seat, since there’s slightly less people here. The fact they’re so close to the toilets is… not great, but Lan Wangji can live with that.

That is, until they get to the next stop. 

More people flood onto the train, which should really not be allowed. There is no space. And yet, here they come. With, apparently, all of their belongings. Remember that this is the winter, so everyone is super wrapped up and twice their normal width. Suddenly Lan Wangji can’t even breathe, let alone keep the precious space he’s managed to carve for himself. At one point someone laden with those fancy boxes of Guangdong 特产 snacks pushes him from behind and he stumbles, only for Wei Wuxian to grab onto his thigh (okay, in Wei Wuxian’s defense, it was the closest body part of Lan Wangji’s!!) and Lan Wangji kind of ends up falling –– half onto the pile of bags, half onto Wei Wuxian’s body. 

When Lan Wangji (very dignifiedly) rights himself up again, Wei Wuxian’s face is so close to his that their chins are almost touching. Wei Wuxian smiles. “Hi,” he says.

Lan Wangji blinks. “Hi.” 

So they sit squished against each other on the floor for the rest of the day. As the day wanes and the light outside starts to disappear, the noise in the carriage gradually starts to die down, too. At some point, the conductor turns off the main fluorescent lights, and with that, voices become hushed. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, wedged in their little space, exchange whispered words until even that gets people hissing Shhh!!! At them. They both feel so tired, which is annoying since all they’ve done is stand or sit around, and it’s only been, like, 12 hours out of 60, which doesn’t bode well for the rest of the trip.

Lan Wangji falls asleep first, of course. He quite valiantly tries to stay up for Wei Wuxian –– when they’d been asked to be quiet for the umpteenth time they’d traded WeChats and started texting instead, white rectangular screens lit up next to each other –– but he nods off in the middle of typing a response to Wei Wuxian asking him what his favorite type of sock is. 

Lan Wangji’s phone slips out of his hands, and Wei Wuxian quickly reaches out to catch it before it clatters onto the train floor, and very quickly takes his hand away because he basically just fondled Lan Wangji’s lap in front of the whole (dozing) train. 

Anyway. After Lan Wangji passes out, Wei Wuxian doesn’t have that much to do anymore. He plays games on his phone, games that he’d been addicted to just earlier this morning but that are so boring now compared to Lan Wangji, who has his arms crossed, neat and tidy even in sleep; a small line between his brows like a frown, as though he’s having some mildly annoying dream in which he has to sort out paperwork at the bank. 

He’s so cute, Wei Wuxian thinks, which is maybe a weird thing to say considering they’re both in their late twenties, but it’s true! Grumpy and handsome and adorable.

That’s Wei Wuxian’s last thought before he, too, falls asleep. 

Wei Wuxian actually sleeps for, like, eight hours straight, which hasn’t happened to him in years. When he wakes up, it’s one of those sunny winter days where the rays of light are stark and bright across a harsh blue sky. 

Squinting, Wei Wuxian shields his face from the sun with his hand and realises that his whole body is aching. Oh, right –– train, seat, bags; Lan Zhan! Wei Wuxian looks around. Lan Wangji is nowhere to be seen. Wei Wuxian can’t help but feel disappointed. They are strangers, but they’d spent all of yesterday together… 

Wei Wuxian’s stomach grows. Oh well; time for another bowl of extra spicy beef noodles! 

(If you’re worried about his digestion, don’t worry: he ate only fiber the day before the trip in preparation for this.) 

He clambers to his feet, then bends down to rifle through his stuff and find one of his many noodle packets, muttering to himself. A sealed bowl packet rolls between his legs, so he backtracks to try and pick it up –– and walks straight into Lan Wangji, crashing ass-first into Lan Wangji’s front. Thankfully, Lan Wangji steadies him and helps him up.

Wei Wuxian sees that Lan Wangji is holding a tray balanced with a bowl of egg drop soup and several fluffy char siu bao. They both look down and notice Lan Wangji tightly gripping Wei Wuxian’s forearm while their hips continue to brush against one another. Sheepish, Lan Wangji lets go, his hand dropping limply to his side. He takes a small step back, then practically shoves the tray into Wei Wuxian’s arms.

“For you,” Lan Wangji says.

Wei Wuxian sits down and digs in, balancing the tray on his crossed legs to make sure it doesn’t spill this time. The bao are simultaneously stale and soggy, and there’s a bit too much soy sauce in the soup, but the fact that Lan Wangji has somehow managed to procure this is so impressive. Wait––

“Have some, Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian says, holding a bao out to Lan Wangji, who is in the midst of picking up and putting down their bags, seemingly trying to rearrange their crushed stuff into more comfortable seating. Lan Wangji shakes his head. He’s vegetarian, he admits. Besides, Wei Wuxian should eat quickly to be ready to go.

“Go where?” Wei Wuxian asks. 

Lan Wangji raises an eyebrow. He looks almost… smug. 

It turns out that he managed to find a free seat many carriages away, and that’s where they’re headed after breakfast. The breakfast itself was obtained via bartering (an informal economy having arisen among the hard seaters and soft seaters on the train) and, similarly, the free seat is part of a booth of 4 seats around a plastic table. Lan Wangji has gotten the 3-person group already seated in the booth to reserve the last spot for him. 

(He’s going to give them his watch. It was his dad’s. He’s been wearing it for a few years now. It’s fine. It's kind of tacky.)

Wei Wuxian, of course, does not know about the watch. He just thinks… Well. Look at Lan Wangji! He’s so handsome, with such a good face. Anyone would do anything Lan Wangji asked. Like… anything , haha. 

Wei Wuxian nudges the packet containing a truly endless amount of sachima at Lan Wangji and insists that Lan Wangji have some. (Wei Wuxian tried one of the sachima yesterday –– they’re pretty gross. Maybe his boss is mad at him? Lan Wangji seems to like them though. (Lan Wangji doesn’t.)) While they eat, the fact that Lan Wangji has not seen any of Wei Wuxian’s favorite movies comes up, and Wei Wuxian, equal parts astonished and delighted, proceeds to recount them all beat for beat. (It’s a 60-hour train ride, remember; they have all the time in the world.) Lan Wangji just nods along. 

Afterwards, they gather all their stuff –– they’re determined to make it in one trip this time –– and start fighting their way down the carriages. 

It’s horrible. 

The only way Wei Wuxian knows he hasn’t been pickpocketed is because he’s literally holding his phone and wallet in his mouth, trying to cheerfully shout, “不好意思！不好意思！接过！” to the passengers around them, although it all comes out muffled. (Lan Wangji hears this and thinks, Hmm. ) 

In front of Wei Wuxian is Lan Wangji, barrelling through. There’s a lot of shoulder action. (Wei Wuxian can see the muscles of Lan Wangji’s back moving beneath his thin button-down. He thinks, Hmm. ) 

A lot of murmured apologies. A lot of sighing. They step on some truly dubious squishy and sticky things. The TikTok sounds have started again now that it’s daytime. In one compartment, someone has taken out their laptop and is letting everyone gather to watch the latest episodes of the palace drama that’s all the rage right now. 

It’s not that bad as either of them had expected, even though by the time they get to the seat they’re both drenched in sweat. ( Hmmmmm. ) It feels great –– as though they were in it together. Partners in… train? They exchange glances, then look away. 

Wei Wuxian sighs happily as he dumps his stuff into the aisle and onto whatever space there is on the overhead rack. He surveys the new seat, which has some crumbs on it but otherwise looks good. Then he turns to Lan Wangji (who has just finished speaking to the other passengers; not sure why!) and reaches up to fluff his hair affectionately. 

“I’m glad I met you on this trip, Lan Zhan! Thank you for finding this great spot.” Before Lan Wangji can respond, Wei Wuxian pushes him down onto the seat and then seats himself on Lan Wangji’s lap. “I don’t know why we didn’t do this yesterday!” he says. “See –– now we can share the seat, and no one has to stand!”

Lan Wangji says nothing.

The three other passengers in the booth pointedly look away.

It takes a bit of shuffling around, but eventually Wei Wuxian finds a comfortable position, seated sideways with his legs dangling into the aisle and his back to the passenger sitting in the window seat next to Lan Wangji. Content, Wei Wuxian stretches out, then turns to speak to Lan Wangji –– before realising that this puts their faces awfully close together.

Lan Wangji still hasn’t spoken. His hands are pressed to his sides –– he’s doing the hover thing to make sure he doesn’t touch any part of Wei Wuxian’s body. Wei Wuxian does wonder whether he’s crossed a line, even though this isn't really that much different from the way they’d fallen asleep leaning against each other last night. The concerned thought flies out of the window when Wei Wuxian notices the little line between Lan Wangji’s brows –– the same small frown he’d had when he’d been sleeping. Wei Wuxian reaches out to touch it with his index finger. 

When Lan Wangji doesn’t react, he pokes at Lan Wangji’s forehead, pushing his skin up until he has horizontal wrinkles across his forehead. Wei Wuxian maneuvers his other hand from where his arm had been draped around Lan Wangji’s neck (Wh? Uh, it was the most comfortable position) and starts pinching Lan Wangji’s cheeks. 

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, pained.

“I’m trying to help you, Lan Zhan! When you’re old and have no wrinkles because you never move your face, everyone else will be so jealous that they will mob and kill you. You need to stop being so perfect. You know, give the rest of us a chance.”

Lan Wangji… really doesn’t get Wei Wuxian’s logic. But to be fair, not that much of what Wei Wuxian has said in the past 20 hours has made that much sense. Lan Wangji has kind of just een going with the flow. 

Sure, he could’ve abandoned Wei Wuxian pretty early on –– they’re strangers after all –– but there’s something about Wei Wuxians’ jittery energy, his inability to sit still, the way he jumps from topic to topic, that means Lan Wangji wants to stick around. He doesn’t want to miss what Wei Wuxian might say next. Besides, Wei Wuxian is clearly curious about Lan Wangji too, in ways that no one else has really paid attention to Lan Wangji before. 

They don’t know a whole lot about each other and haven’t talked about anything too personal, but –– and Lan Wangji is sure he isn’t misreading this, he can’t be, not when Wei Wuxian is draped all over Lan Wangji like this –– there’s a sense of closeness between them that Lan Wangji hasn’t felt in a long time, or maybe ever. 

As Lan Wangji does his best to will down his boner ( uncle at the beach, uncle at the beach ) he thinks back to the horrible teenage girl from yesterday, and her threat –– I’ll tell everyone that you and your boyfriend tried to mug me –– and thinks: Maybe once they pull into Beijing West. 

Lan Wangji doesn’t want to be presumptuous, of course. And he knows that it runs a little in the family, this… attachment he thinks he’s feeling, the too-quick way it’s built up within him. But Wei Wuxian is carding his fingers through Lan Wangji’s hair, fussing about any knots that might’ve appeared overnight, and his body is so warm and fits so well with Lan Wangji’s own. 

At some point Lan Wangji’s phone buzzes, so he takes it out of his pocket (since Wei Wuxian can feel it too) to set it elsewhere, but Wei Wuxian immediately grabs it, opens the camera, and starts pulling faces for silly selfies, his other hand still stroking Lan Wangji’s hair all the while. Lan Wangji doesn’t mind that Wei Wuxian’s bony elbow is digging into his shoulder; that everyone in the carriage can see, is looking; or that he really needs to pee. He finds himself glad that they’re only a third of the way through this trip –– he almost doesn’t want it to end. Not if he gets Wei Wuxian like this; his. 

Wei Wuxian, in the meantime, has gotten bored of selfies and is trying to guess Lan Wangji’s password.^[2]

8888? No.

0000? No.

1234? Also no.

“Damn!” Wei Wuxian says. “Lan Zhan, when’s your birthday?”

Lan Wangji blinks. His hands curl into fists at his sides. One is dangerously close to Wei Wuxian’s knee. “January 23,” he says.

Wei Wuxian types 0123. Still no. He tries again.

“Hmm,” he says. “Maybe 2301?”

“Wei Ying, you are going to––”

Too late. The phone locks itself down for a full minute.

“UGH!” Wei Wuxian whines, collapsing back against the seat in frustration. Lan Wangji’s hands go to his waist to steady him. They both pause for 0.1 seconds before deciding to just not mention that. 

Anyway, there are more pressing issues than Lan Wangji’s strong-but-trying-to-be-light grip, such as (for Lan Wangji) the fact that some of Wei Wuxian’s hair is in Lan Wangji’s mouth and it smells good and feels nice instead of being gross, or (for Wei Wuxian) the fact that he’s now pressed up against Lan Wangji’s torso and it’s, like, rock hard. Lan Wangji’s a teacher; where does he even get the time to…?! 

“Ahaha,” Wei Wuxian says, clearing his throat. “Wait. January 23, that was last week! Your birthday must overlap with Lunar New Year quite often, then! Does your family celebrate twice, or do they try to combine it? Do people try to scam you out of your birthday money by just giving you 压岁钱?”

“I have not received 压岁钱 in ten years,” Lan Wangji says, even though uncle does quietly transfer money into his account at this time each year, electing to give this ‘压岁钱’ instead of outwardly telling Lan Wangji that he thinks Lan Wangji’s potential is wasted as a French teacher and that he should use the money to further his own career.

Money that Lan Wangji has spent on this upcoming return ticket to Toronto. But that’s neither here nor there. Just as Wei Wuxian is on his way to Beijing to check in on a friend, Lan Wangji is doing his own duty. 

Lan Wangji’s parents have been a source of silent, but fraught, tension between Lan Qiren –– who refuses to even open up his photo albums –– and Lan Xichen, who was old enough to remember their parents. Lan Wangji, who does not remember, has always had to help smooth over things in the home (namely by suddenly standing up to do the dishes whenever a silence stretches on too long at the dinner table) and this is just another of the things he does, has been doing, will do. He doesn’t really –– it’s no big deal.

Back to what’s more important, which is Wei Wuxian and his perky butt. 

Wei Wuxian says, “Oh, really? Well, I still do. From my parents, at least. I think it’s their way of telling me to hurry up and get married, haha. As if anyone at work is a viable option! Maybe I’m just doomed to being a singleton, at least until I graduate to whitecollar life, which, let’s face it, is probably never going to happen. Maybe I should just move to Shanghai and become A-Ling’s full-time nanny. But then I’d have to see jiefu every day, and that would definitely destroy any chance I have at dating. Imagine bringing some, uh, someone back home only for them to have to talk to that guy!” Wei Wuxian pauses and fiddles with Lan Wangji’s phone. Okay, he thinks, keep it casual. “And, uh, you? Haha.”

Lan Wangji’s hands tighten at Wei Wuxian’s waist. “I what?” he asks. His voice is deeper than it was before. 

Lan Wangji’s hands are very big, Wei Wuxian notes, not for the first time. He has a substantial… wingspan? Is that what you call it? 

Wei Wuxian shrugs. Turns on Lan Wangji’s phone, types in 2301 (it works), starts swiping around half-heartedly at Lan Wangji’s apps. “Do you, you know…” 

Wei Wuxian trails off. He doesn’t really know what he’s asking. Whether Lan Wangji’s single? Well, it would surely be rather concerning if he weren’t , considering the way he’s behaving with Wei Wuxian right now! Whether Lan Wangji would be interested in –– Once they get to Beijing –– Well! That’s in, like, two days! That’s way too far in the future to consider, let alone ask about. 

Lan Wangji’s grip on Wei Wuxian gets even tighter, which is maybe a bit weird? It kind of hurts? It’s definitely going to leave prints. Bruises, maybe. Lol. 

“Mn,” Lan Wangji says eventually, which… okay? Cool. Yeah. 

“Mn,” Wei Wuxian says, nodding. He tries to take a deep breath without making it look like he’s taking a deep breath, so instead he just looks like he’s shivering. One of Lan Wangji’s hands reaches up to button the borrowed blazer –– which, yes, Wei Wuxian still has on. It’s a nice blazer! (It… smells really nice.) –– and then Lan Wangji just, like, keeps his arm there, looped around Wei Wuxian, hand resting on Wei Wuxian’s forearm. 

Originally Wei Wuxian had plopped himself down on Lan Wangji’s lap partly for convenience and mostly to be annoying, the joke being that Lan Wangji would totally hate it and push him off! But so far it’s seemed like Lan Wangji… does not… hate it. And now with the way Lan Wangji is… cradling him? and keeping Wei Wuxian there? it kind of feels like the tables have turned. That Wei Wuxian has played right into Lan Wangji’s, uh, lap. 

It doesn’t help that Lan Wangji murmurs, “Is Wei Ying cold?” –– yes, murmurs , as though they’re the only two people in the world instead of squeezed onto this godforsaken plebeian train. Their thing is probably more interesting than the palace drama by now. Wei Wuxian can feel his face get hot from the embarrassment. But it’s also kind of fun… to realise that Lan Wangji has buttons that he can push, that Lan Wangji might react in unexpected ways to him.

He clears his throat and shivers again, but more exaggerated this time. “Cold?! Not when I have Lan-er-gege here to warm me up! 😋”

This earns Wei Wuxian a pinch on the forearm, and Wei Wuxian can’t help but jump –– not necessarily because it hurts, but because that was kind of mean! He elbows Lan Wangji lightly in the stomach as revenge, then brings Lan Wangji’s phone screen closer to his face to properly inspect it now that he’s gotten it open. 

“You don’t have any games on your phone, Lan Zhan! Are you an alien? What is this?!” 

“I have sudoku,” Lan Wangji says.

“That doesn’t count!! Tell me, are you actually a 90-year-old vampire? Is that why you’re so handsome and your skin is so flawless?” 

Lan Wangji exhales.

“What do you even do to entertain yourself??” Wei Wuxian demands, exasperated. “Do you just… read???” 

“Reading is good,” Lan Wangji replies woodenly.

“That’s not the point!!! Lan Zhan, do you even live in the 21st century? What books do you even read??” 

Wei Wuxian taps on Lan Wangji’s e-reader app. Lan Wangji rests his chin on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. They look at the screen together as Wei Wuxian flips impatiently through Lan Wangji’s library: boring non-fiction book on nature, boring anthology of Song dynasty poems, French stuff Wei Wuxian can’t read… 

“Aha! What’s this?” 

Lan Wangji leans closer. “巴特,” he says. “In translation.”

[Art by @ andafryyy ]

“恋人絮语,” Wei Wuxian says, reading the title.^[3] He taps it open; it’s at 0%, meaning Lan Wangji hasn’t actually gotten to reading it yet. “Well, considering this is the only thing that seems remotely interesting…” 

Wei Wuxian scrolls to a random page and reads aloud: 

"言语是一层表皮：我用自己的语言去蹭对方，就好像我用辞令取代了手指，或者说我在辞令上安上了手指。^[4]

“Weird,” he says, giggling.

Lan Wangji doesn’t speak. His chin is still on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder; as with before, their faces are so close, Wei Wuxian’s cheek almost touching Lan Wangji’s temple. Wei Wuxian can kind of feel the heat of Lan Wangji’s skin. And he knows they’re on a packed t rain right now, but if he turned, their faces would certainly knock against each other; the tips of their noses. 

It’s good. It’s overwhelming. He’s not going to move. The thought of it is… interesting. He wants to giggle again but that would mean moving, even just a little, and maybe––

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says softly.

“Yes?” Wei Wuxian replies, ignoring the way his voice goes up an octave. His heart is –– His chest feels –– Lan Wangji is ––

“I need to use the bathroom,” Lan Wangji says. 

Wei Wuxian breathes. “Oh!!” he says eventaully. “Okay.”

Neither of them moves.

“I,” Lan Wangji says. He closes his mouth again. Squeezes Wei Wuxian’s waist. Wei Wuxian purses his lips so as not to let out a squeak. 

“Oh, of course !” Wei Wuxian fumbles as he tries to stand up, but he’s gotten so comfortable while sitting in Lan Wangji’s lap and putting all his weight on Lan Wangji that it takes him several awkward tries and much butt wiggling to actually get his feet to touch the ground, giving him leverage. And when he goes to stand up, there’s a moment where he can’t , because Lan Wangji is still holding on to him, as though reluctant to let go.

Eventually, though, they manage. Wei Wuxian stands up enough to let Lan Wangji out from underneath him, and Lan Wangji scoots into the aisle. 

Lan Wangji’s trousers are wrinkled from where Wei Wuxian was sitting; even his button down is kind of messed up, part of it coming untucked.

As Lan Wangji stands there, he gets a strong urge to –– say goodbye, even though he’s only going to be gone for a few minutes. He tamps down this urge. Instead he and Wei Wuxian make sustained eye contact for much longer than would be normal. Finally, he leaves. 

We won’t discuss the bathroom because, well, after 20 hours you can kind of imagine. What’s important is that while Lan Wangji is in there, Wei Wuxian leans back against the seat, which now feels a little too large, too empty. He folds one leg and puts his foot on the seat, then feels bad and sets it down again. He rolls up the sleeves of the blazer, admiring its slight bagginess against his forearms, then rolls the sleeves down again. He wants to get up and pace, but what if he loses this seat? He can’t let that happen again. Lan Wangji is relying on him! 

He resigns himself to reading more of Lan Wangji’s incomprehensible book. He ignores the WeChat notifications coming in from Lan Wangji’s brother at the top of the screen, which are probably just about work. (Normally, his first thought would be to prank Lan Wangji by messing with his text history and impersonating him, but Lan Wangji isn’t even here to witness it; Wei Wuxian wouldn’t be able to track his flustered-but-pretending-to-be-indifferent microexpressions, and that’s what makes it so fun!) Still, Wei Wuxian’s eyes can’t help but scan the notifications. When Lan Wangji comes back, Wei Wuxian looks up at him in the aisle and says, “Does your dad live in Beijing?”

Lan Wangji pauses, then sees the phone in Wei Wuxian’s hand. Instead of giving a response, he takes the phone away –– a little too aggressively if you ask Wei Wuxian!! What if he wanted to keep reading 巴特?! –– then pulls Wei Wuxian up with a hand wrapped around Wei Wuxian’s wrist and slides back into the seat. 

They find themselves in exactly the same position as previously –– perhaps even closer, now that they’re used to it, now that they’ve touched and are less afraid to do it again. As with before, Lan Wangji keeps an arm wrapped around Wei Wuxian’s waist, except now it’s less to stabilise Wei Wuxian (who is sprawled against Lan Wangji anyway, with no risk of falling) and more as though to keep him there –– to stop him from misbehaving.

Wei Wuxian wonders if this is how the rest of the train ride is going to go (Will it be uncomfortable to sleep like this? What about the person in the seat next to them, who’s been aggressively avoiding eye contact?) and opens his mouth to say –– Well. He doesn’t know. Probably something stupid. But he yelps when he feels Lan Wangji’s other hand grope at his thigh. 

“Lan Zhan!!! What––?? Oh.” Wei Wuxian does not sound disappointed when it turns out that Lan Wangji is digging in his trouser pocket for a pair of earbuds.^[5]

Lan Wangji doesn’t say for Wei Wuxian to shut up, but the action –– and the steady look Lan Wangji gives him –– is enough. Wei Wuxian takes one earbud and Lan Wangji takes the other. As Lan Wangji scrolls through his phone, Wei Wuxian decides that Lan Wangji is probably into, like, jazz or something intellectual like that. But when Lan Wangji makes his choice, what plays into the earbuds is not music but a podcast –– wait, worse: an audiobook. It’s some woman’s voice droning on and on, and yes, Lan Wangji does seem to have done Wei Wuxian the courtesy of starting from the beginning, but still!

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian warns, “don’t think that this is how you’ll get me to be quiet and leave you alone! I can multitask, you know.” 

Lan Wangji doesn’t reply. All he does is pull Wei Wuxian even closer to him, so that Wei Wuxian has no choice but to brace a hand against Lan Wangji’s chest. It should be an uncomfortable position, especially with his elbow sandwiched between both their bodies, but it feels… not that way. 

“Well,” Wei Wuxian huffs, flicking at Lan Wangji’s chest absent-mindedly (no reaction; not ticklish?). “As I was saying ––”

But then. Lan Wangji. Shuts his eyes! Right in the middle of Wei Wuxian’s sentence! Wei Wuxian is aghast, but what can he do? He crosses his arms and focuses on the audiobook, which is not interesting. (It’s a murder mystery. It’s very riveting, actually) and before long, he finds himself nodding off again to the soothing tones of the narrator’s voice, Lan Wangji’s hands a comforting presence on his body, warm even through the layers of clothing.

When Wei Wuxian wakes up, the first thing he notices is that the sky outside is dark; he slept for a long time! But it’s true that he tends to do that on long train rides, when there’s basically nothing else to do. Besides, the days of Wei Wuxian whiling his hours away at the Internet café after school to avoid the tense fights between Yu-ayi and jiejie are long gone. That’s certainly the case when he stretches his neck and feels it pop… Lunar New Year is always a good time to consider your own mortality. 

So it does take Wei Wuxian a second to remember that he’s still sitting in Lan Wangji’s lap, except that now he’s wearing both earbuds (though the audiobook has long been turned off and replaced with unintrusive music). Lan Wangji, on the other hand, is calmly reading a paperback using the shitty, dim overhead lights. 

Huh. So Wei Wuxian must’ve been sleeping really deeply, to not have felt Lan Wangji getting up to grab the book. He wonders how long Lan Wangji was gone for, before coming back to the seat. If he went for a stroll down the aisle and made more new friends. Surely not, right? Wei Wuxian would’ve woken up and noticed, otherwise. 

Well. Not that it matters. Wei Wuxian is definitely one of those people that can sleep anywhere. Lan Wangji’s presence, or lack thereof, is not something that has ever concerned Wei Wuxian before (obviously) so why now? Lan Wangji can do whatever he wants. Of course. What is Wei Wuxian to him? 

(Seriously. What is Wei Wuxian to him??)

Anyway. 

Wei Wuxian fidgets in Lan Wangji’s lap until Lan Wangji looks up from his book, an expression of slight exasperation on his face. 

“Have you eaten dinner yet?” Wei Wuxian asks, the second half of his question overtaken by a yawn.

“No,” Lan Wangji replies. He nods at the plastic table, where two noodle packets (1 very mild and vegetarian) are waiting to be filled with hot water.

“Aww! Were you waiting for me? Can’t eat without your dear partner?” Wei Wuxian teases.

“Yes.”

Oh. That's not what Wei Wuxian was expecting him to say. “Ah,” he says. “Good. Now we can… eat. You can eat.”

Wei Wuxian grabs both noodle bowls and scurries off to the nearest hot water dispenser before Lan Wangji can be the one to do it. He has to remain polite, after all! Lan Wangji has done so much for them on this trip! Yes –– Wei Wuxian now thinks of ‘them’ as a unit, because they are! They’re partners! And each partner pulls his weight!

When the noodles are ready, Wei Wuxian insists on feeding some of Lan Wangji’s to him, even though this gets droplets of soup all over Lan Wangji’s elegant chin. Which Wei Wuxian wipes away with his (Lan Wangji’s) blazer sleeve. This goes on for several minutes before the passenger next to them says they have to get out of here, and makes Wei Wuxian get up to let them through. The magic of feeding Lan Wangji dissipates after that, which is a bit of a shame, because Wei Wuxian had a joke brewing about, like. About… being… a wifey. Or whatever. That would just sound, like, weird now. 

So the rest of the meal passes relatively uneventfully aside from Lan Wangji rubbing circles on Wei Wuxian’s skin with his thumbs and Wei Wuxian nuzzling into Lan Wangji’s hair like they’re those flea-eating monkeys on nature documentaries. The important thing is that no marriage jokes are said out loud, which is unfortunate, because Lan Wangji would have greatly appreciated them. 

After Wei Wuxian dumps their trash in the (overflowing) garbage can, he unplugs his own phone from Lan Wangji’s portable charger and leans back into Lan Wangji’s hold. 

They pass many of the remaining hours like this, each doing his own thing, revelling in the other’s quiet (or not-so-quiet) reassuring presence. When Wei Wuxian asks Lan Wangji a question, Lan Wangji looks up from his book and answers in a measured way, but otherwise he just lets Wei Wuxian talk while he reads, and pinches Wei Wuxian’s waist every once in a while.

Even as the train starts to empty out a little –– after all, it’s Lunar New Year so most people are leaving metropolises to return to provincial and rural homes, so very few are actually headed to Beijing terminus–– neither of them even dreams of bringing up the fact that they could find another spot with more room. If one of them broke that silence, then they’d have to –– acknowledge that what’s unfolding between them isn’t something that could happen with anyone else. That it’s… new, and different, and strange, and exhilarating, and theirs. It’s them. 

So they don’t talk about it. Even as the third day arrives and the train passes through Shijiazhuang, one of the last major stops, bearing them inexorably to Beijing, the destination. Even as Wei Wuxian discovers that Lan Wangji does like jazz, that he’s only been to France once on a semester abroad in university, that he’s never been in a relationship before.

(“WHAAAT?? The handsome Lan Zhan?! No one?? How is that possible??? ” 

“...” 

“I mean. Me neither. Haha.”) 

Even as Lan Wangji finds out about Wei Wuxian’s favorite type of soup, heras about his desire to help others and the way it’s impeded by the series of dead-end jobs he’s held since leaving high school and the fact that planning for any kind of future feels impossible. Lan Wangji feels the same. He feels it so strongly that when Wei Wuxian starts speaking in depth about the kind of world he wants to live in, Lan Wangji is, for a hysterical moment, aware of tears prickling at his eyes. 

And Lan Wangji could say –– “Me too, I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t know where I’m going, and I don’t know who with.” –– but, even after all this, all they’ve shared, that still feels like the one thing that’s impossible. It feels like going to a place of no return. So Lan Wangji doesn’t. And Wei Wuxian pokes at the little frown between Lan Wangji’s brows, and smiles, and changes the subject. 

The train pulls into Beijing West. 

Lan Wangji gently shakes Wei Wuxian awake. Wei Wuxian groans and wraps his arms tighter around Lan Wangji’s neck, clinging on like a koala. 

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji whispers. “It’s time to go.”

The overhead speakers are playing the arrival announcement on loop, reminding passengers to take care of their possessions and not leave anything precious behind.

“Can’t,” Wei Wuxian mumbles, head buried into the crook of Lan Wangji’s neck. “I feel sick.”

Lan Wangji frowns. “Motion sickness?” Has Wei Wuxian been ill this whole time, and Lan Wangji hadn't known? He’d packed medicine––

Wei Wuxian shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

There’s barely anyone left in the carriage now, or on the train at all. What had previously been a scene of complete chaos, of rowdy noise and violation of personal space and food and fart smells all amounting to some precarious, makeshift sense of temporary community –– it’s all gone.

And Lan Wangji knows that when they go out into the city, mere days before the new year, it’ll look like a ghost town too. All the migrant workers gone home, the locals huddled indoors in front of the TV, every generation under the same roof. The only people in the streets being drifters like Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, and whatever other poor bastard couldn’t get a ticket out of town, or got persuaded somehow to stay at their job and live through the loneliest holiday of their life. 

Lan Wangji sighs. He pats Wei Wuxian’s back soothingly, then goes to grab hold of Wei Wuxian’s legs. He stands up, still carrying Wei Wuxian –– who barely complains at all, which is worrying. Perhaps he really is ill, Lan Wangji thinks. He carries Wei Wuxian off the train and sets him down on the platform slowly, making sure Wei Wuxian can stand on his own two feet. 

When Lan Wangji tries to feel the temperature of Wei Wuxian’s forehead, Wei Wuxian turns his face away from Lan Wangji’s palm. “I’m fine!” Wei Wuxian says, eyes only crinkling a little, which makes the bags beneath them even more obvious. Lan Wangji’s heart sinks. Wei Wuxian had seemed fine just a few hours ago, before their final nap. “It’s just the fresh air and stuff,” Wei Wuxian adds.

Lan Wangji nods. “I will get our things,” he says, before ducking back into the carriage. Already staff members are coming in to pick up litter and clean away all presence of the passengers who had been on this journey. As Lan Wangji surveys his and Wei Wuxian’s bags, he briefly considers taking all of his own stuff out first and then Wei Wuxian’s, just to make sure that Wei Wuxian doesn’t –– disappear, leave, while Lan Wangji has his back turned. To keep Wei Wuxian with him, just a little longer. 

He feels crazy for thinking it, but now that he has, he can’t unthink it. He settles on taking one of Wei Wuxian’s bags in his left hand and one of his own bags in his right hand, and doing it that way so that their stuff is brought out in equal parts. It’s absurd, Lan Wangji knows. But Wei Wuxian grins gratefully when Lan Wangji gives him his stuff, and doesn’t try to run way, at least not for now.

But even the bringing-bags-out stage is over too quickly. Lan Wangji takes one last look at the carriage, even though he knows that he’s very thorough and hasn’t missed anything. And then steps off the train for the last time; back onto the platform, where Wei Wuxian stands awkwardly amidst their mountain of bags.

Wei Wuxian’s not wearing the blazer anymore; it’s folded up and draped across his arm, though at least he’s put his winter jacket back on so he’s not freezing. (The jacket is well-padded and looks like it will protect him well from the biting winter cold, which Lan Wangji notes with satisfaction.)

Wei Wuxian looks like he wants to give Lan Wangji the blazer back, even though it’s so crumpled by now that it’s ruined. Not that Lan Wangji would wear it again anyway. It’s bound to smell like Wei Wuxian now.

Wei Wuxian clears his throat. “Well,” he says. “Thanks.”

Lan Wangji says, “Mn.”

Neither makes a move to leave.

There are still some staff members and passengers milling about on the platform, but most have taken the escalators up and out. Lan Wangji can imagine it happening to them: emerging into the crowded station, with all the lights and noise and people, and then separating at the metro entrance; watching the back of Wei Wuxian’s head as he disappears. Spending the rest of his stay in Beijing wondering, always, whether Wei Wuxian was walking the same streets, or taking the same metro line, or eating the same kind of food. Whether Wei Wuxian was looking out of the window and searching for Lan Wangji among the flashing LEDs of some endless mall. Later, sending some perfunctory messages on WeChat, including the obligatory happy new year sticker, the frequency of their conversations lessening even as they promise to keep in touch and to meet up next time they were both in the same town, and then just… not. 

It’s stupid. Lan Wangji has never been so indecisive. So hesitant. His whole life, every choice he’d made had always been the best one, the one that made the most sense to him even if others couldn’t always see it. Yes, perhaps he’s been coasting. Perhaps he’s been following a headstrong, inevitable current of school, university, job, weekends, grading, saving, and here is a boulder in the middle of the river, looming large. He could serve to avoid it, or he could… 

“Do you want to split a cab?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Lan Wangji blinks, his train of thought interrupted. “Mn,” he agrees. And only a beat later does he add, “Where are w–– you going?” 

Wei Wuxian scratches his nose. “Well, Wen Ning lives in Haidian.” And then stops speaking, even though he hasn’t answered Lan Wangji’s question. He seems distracted, which is perhaps why he doesn’t notice Lan Wangji’s intake of breath.

“I am also… headed to Haidian,” Lan Wangji says, feeling dizzy. Even though he should be happy, shouldn’t he, that they’re going to the same part of the city; even though it’s not that surprising or miraculous, as Haidian is where most universities are located and 3 million people live there –– nonetheless, the coincidence is almost too right. 

What if Wei Wuxian thinks Lan Wangji is following him?? And does this mean that they –– that they could really –– keep seeing each other? It feels almost too much. The boulder at the river, pressing against Lan Wangji, his throat. Its cool, rough texture beneath his palms.

Wei Wuxian laughs awkwardly. He crosses his arms, the blazer he’s still holding becoming more crumpled. “Looks like you just can’t get rid of me! Must be my charm,” he jokes, but there’s something to his voice that makes Lan Wangji wince.

“My father taught at the BFA,” Lan Wangji volunteers, before he can stop himself. 

“Cool,” Wei Wuxian says. There’s still a bit of melancholy to him, which had made Lan Wangji wonder if he was sick, earlier. Lan Wangji knows him well by now: normally he’d tease, prod, ask questions. But instead he just grins.

Lan Wangji nods.

“So,” Wei Wuxian says. “Cab?”

Lan Wangji nods again.

It takes them a while to find a cabbie that’s willing to take on all their bags, especially since Wei Wuxian insists both he and Lan Wangji sit together in the backseat. So a lot of stuff gets put in the passenger seat, pushing up against the gear shift and blocking the driver’s space. The cabbie puts his radio on super loud in retaliation; Khalil Fong’s crooning voice floods the car. 

“Great taste, 师傅!” Wei Wuxian says, laughing, as he and Lan Wangji find themselves once again pressed together in the backseat; Wei Wuxian in the middle, Lan Wangji to his right, and a huge suitcase horizontal on Wei Wuxian’s other side, its wheels digging into his arm. 

Whereas, back on the train, they’d settled into such a comfortable rhythm together, their bodies and limbs learning to entwine without a hint of shyness, now Wei Wuxian suddenly feels awkward. Like the stakes are higher… even though that doesn't really make sense. He and Lan Wangji’s hands brush against each other and he wonders whether it would be weird to, like, hold hands. On purpose. Whether the train was this kind of… suspended… zone where certain things were allowed, and now those same things are no longer allowed. 

He’d kind of forced Lan Wangji into this cab with him, hadn't he? Lan Wangji was probably just going to get on one of those bikeshares and somehow haul all his stuff to Haidian like that, the eco-friendly nerd. Wei Wuxian once saw someone ride a bike one-handed, the other hand pulling a suitcase alongside them; that’s something Lan Wangji would do for sure, and he’d look incredible doing it. Wei Wuxian tells him this, and Lan Wangji huffs.

“无聊,” he says, which is delightful to Wei Wuxian, who might as well change his name to Wei Wuliao after all the times Lan Wangji has called him that in the past few days. And Lan Wangji can stop 耍ing 酷; Wei Wuxian knows very well that 无聊 is a compliment by this point. He smiles and snuggles up to Lan Wangji and prods Lan Wangji just a little with his hands, and –– Oh, would you look at that –– his hand just slides into Lan Wangji’s palm. And Lan Wangji twines his fingers around Wei Wuxian’s and… squeezes. A little. It’s nice. 

The Khalil Fong song ends, replaced by another pop ballad that Wei Wuxian doesn’t recognise. Lan Wangji is now staring out the window at the grey buildings wrapped around the concrete roads like parts of a shroud. Wei Wuxian wonders if Lan Wangji has ever been to Beijing before. Surely he has? His dad lives here… He must’ve visited at least once or twice in his life, in adulthood if not in childhood. And yet his shoulders are set with the same kind of tense, bewildered curiosity that Wei Wuxian knows he himself wore when he first moved to Guangdong province, eighteen years old and legs too long to sit comfortably on the coach ride. 

“So,” Wei Wuxian says. “Haidian, huh? Wen Ning is a first-year at Beiwai.”^[6] He perks up. “Hey! Languages!” he says, beaming up at Lan Wangji. “That’s cool.”

Lan Wangji knows that, with Wei Wuxian, it’s about what he doesn’t say. Here, what he’s not saying is: When you meet Wen Ning, you guys will have something in common to talk about. And: If you want to, that is.

If Lan Wangji doesn’t want to, he could simply lapse once more into silence. Change the subject. And that’s precisely why Wei Wuxian has put it to him in this way; to make it easy for Wei Wuxian to be rejected.

“Mn,” Lan Wangji says, running his thumb over Wei Wuxian’s knuckles. “Does Wen Ning want to teach, too?”

Wei Wuxian sighs, flops back against the seat, leans his weight against Lan Wangji. “Well, he says he wants to! But me and his sister suspect he’s choosing that because it’s the most secure career path out of foreign language study. He doesn’t want to burden Wen Qing by getting a ‘useless’ degree, I guess. Even though we both tell him that that’s not what he should be thinking about! That he’s the first person in his family to go to university –– he should do what he loves, and have fun!! Let us boring adults worry about the future.” He shrugs. “But I was the same at his age –– so keen to move out, to make money, to start supporting myself and others. I moved halfway across the country too, didn’t I? Ah, you’re so lucky that you and your uncle are so close, Lan Zhan. Is he coming to join you and your dad in Beijing for Lunar New Year as well, then?”

And it’s minute, but Wei Wuxian doesn’t miss the way Lan Wangji stiffens slightly. “No,” Lan Wangji says. “It’s just me.” And then: “I will be joining my brother in Canada in two days.”

That’s the first Wei Wuxian has heard of this. “哇塞, you’re so cosmopolitan!” he says, swinging a leg over Lan Wangji’s. “Lunar New Year must be so different abroad. Waiguoren don’t celebrate it, right, so there’s no time off from work! I can’t imagine a Lunar New Year where everyone around you is going about business as usual. Although I guess it’s the same for people who celebrate Christmas in China… One of my co-workers’ siblings works in Yiwu but she doesn’t even know what Christams is.” Wei Wuxian nudges Lan Wangji. “Have you celebrated Christmas before? Me and Wen Ning and Wen Qing used to use it as an excuse to exchange gifts. Wait, have you been to Canada before? Do you also speak English?? How are you so smart and talented?!?!??”

“I have not,” is all Lan Wangji says in response. He turns to the window again.

It’s evening, so in the few minutes since they’ve gotten into the car the sky has gone from a murky, smoggy grey to a dusty brown, golden at the horizon thanks to the lights of the city. Still, Wei Wuxian peers out from behind Lan Wangji’s shoulder, squinting into the night. “That must be Yuyuantan Park,” he says, tapping at the window. They’ve just crossed a short bridge. “I was looking at it on Baidu Maps when I was planning this trip. It looks absolutely huge. Have you been, Lan Zhan?”

“No.” Lan Wangji pauses. “Maybe tomorrow,” he says.

And, like? What does that mean?? Does that mean Lan Wangji wants to go with Wei Wuxian? But what if he’d just meant it idly, like he wants to go check it out by himself?? Should Wei Wuxian invite himself? Fuck it. 

“Yeah, let’s go!” Wei Wuxian says.

Lan Wangji looks at him and his lips twitch upwards briefly.

Wei Wuxian’s jaw drops. 

The rest of the trip passes in silence.

It’s actually a pretty short trip, almost a straight line from Beijing West to the Beiwai campus. When they arrive, Lan Wangji beats Wei Wuxian to paying for the fare while Wei Wuxian is busy hauling their bags out of the car, and Wei Wuxian only whines about this for a couple of minutes before his face lights up and he announces, “Well, that means I’m being for dinner!!” –– which, of course, does not make Lan Wangji sad at all, since a) it means they are going to continue to spend time together, and b) Lan Wangji will fight for the dinner bill nonetheless.

Wei Wuxian taps away at his phone and soon a figure bundled up in one of those shin-length down jackets, plus a scarf (or several?) and a knitted winter hat appears in the distance and waves at them.

“Wen Ning!!” Wei Wuxian shouts, his enthusiastic voice echoing across the near-empty campus. “Lan Zhan, say hi!”

Wen Ning is still much too far away for Lan Wangji to greet him without sounding as much like a lunatic as Wei Wuxian does, so Lan Wangji does not say hi.

“Ugh,” Wei Wuxian groans, though there’s a smile on his face. He grabs Lan Wangji’s wrist and raises Lan Wangji's arm in the air for him, making him wave. And then just… doesn’t let go. It’s all very subtle, Wei Wuxian thinks.

(It’s not. But Lan Wangji is still like: “?!”) 

Wen Ning sees this rando standing next to Wei Wuxian and even from this far away he can see that their silhouettes are joined at the hand, and is like: “??????”

Anyway, so they drop off Wen Ning’s stuff in his dorm room. All of his roommates have gone home for the holidays which is a good thing, because Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian bought him so much food that he runs out of room and has to store some of the stuff on the spare beds. It’ll take him the rest of his life to get through these snacks, probably. Wen Ning opens a duffel bag that’s just long thermal underwear.

“What the hell,” he says, exasperated.

“Hey, it gets very cold up here! You need to make sure you don’t get sick! Look, Wen Qing got this wholesale from Mianmian who works at the textile place––”

“I don’t need all this!”

As Lan Wangji stands to the side, observing, he realises that Wei Wuxian is essentially Wen Ning’s very pushy, deeply embarrassing grandma. He and the Wens must be extremely close, for Wei Wuxian to come all the way here to pay Wen Ning a visit when Wen Ning couldn’t make it home and Wen Qing seems to have been too busy with familial obligations to make the trip herself. But Lan Wangji also suspects that Wei Wuxian would do this for pretty much any acquaintance or co-worker. 

That’s partly what makes Wei Wuxian so special, Lan Wangji realises: this compassion, this innate instinct Wei Wuxian has for forging connections, the care he has for his community and the way he doesn’t hesitate to inconvenience himself to help others –– the fact that he would never see it as an inconvenience. All of this is what animates him; and Lan Wangji has never wanted anyone this much. Not like this; not so wholly and completely, so much that it makes it hard for Lan Wangji to breathe, even just thinking about it.

And it hits him, now, that he really would like to have everything of Wei Wuxian’s: he’d like to get to know Wen Ning, and Wen Qing, and Mianmian, and Wei Wuxian’s sister and jiefu and nephew, and his brother in Wuhan, and the distant parents who nag him to get married (Would they approve of Lan WangjI??), and he’d like to stand by Wei Wuxian’s side and see him flourish and see him receive everything he deserves and more. 

Lan Wangji does something he’s never done before. When there’s a lull in the frantic conversation between Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning, Lan Wangji steps forward and introduces himself, of his own free will. 

“Lan Wangji,” he says, and Wen Ning shakes his hand, looking a little awed. 

“Wen Qionglin,” Wen Ning replies automatically. He looks sideways at Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian is busy dealing with the butterflies in his own stomach. “Oh, of course!” he exclaims, shaking his head. “Sorry, yeah. So… Lan Zhan is my, uh––” he swallows. “Train buddy.”

Is it weird that Wei Wuxian found Lan Wangji introducing himself to Wen Ning hot?? He can’t help it! It’s been more than 60 hours non-stop with Lan Wangji, always in some cramped space feeling Lan Wangji’s breath down his neck or on his face or along the skin of his wrists, and at this point… Well. Yeah.

Train buddy is maybe not the best word. But how else is Wei Wuxian supposed to describe Lan wangji? Friend doesn’t cut it (and isn’t what Wei Wuxian wants), yet nothing romantic is true … “My beloved”?? Ha ha. Just kidding. Obviously not that one. It’s not like Wei Wuxian–– ¨

Anyway.

Wei Wuxian claps his hands. “What’s good for dinner around here?”

They end up just getting noodles at a small hole-in-the-wall place whose owner goes immediately back to watching the palace drama on the shop TV after serving them their food. It’s Lunar New Year after all –– not many affordable options open, no matter how much Lan Wangji wishes he were able to treat Wei Wuxian to a nicer place for their first… uh… non-train meal.

Wei Wuxian looks perfectly in his element. He twirls his chopsticks and tells Wen Ning all about the train ride, emphasising “how much of an absolute lifesaver Lan Zhan is!!!” and how lucky Wei Wuxian is “to have met such a handsome hero” and “to have swooned into his big strong arms!” (He pats Lan Wangji’s arm as he says this, and then quickly blinks and takes his hand away, a slight blush creeping across his cheek. Lan Wangji exhales.)

Wen Ning, in the meantime, nods a lot, wide-eyed and seemingly eager, yet as soon as he’s able to, he steers the conversation back to what’s been going on in Guangdong since he’s been gone, despite the fact that it’s been previously established that they are all in daily contact. Wei Wuxian launches into some long-winded, and surely familiar, story about Wen Qing’s new motorcycle, and Lan Wangji finally relaxes, now that the spotlight is no longer on him. He notices that he has lines on his hand from how hard he was gripping his chopsticks earlier.

The air between him and Wei Wuxian feels a little different, now that a third person has been added to the mix. The exaggerated way that Wei Wuxian likes to flirt with Lan Wangji gains a sense of… performance, now. But for whom? Surely Wei Wuxian is not so cruel as to tease –– as to have been teasing, this whole time. Despite how earnestly Wen Ning is taking it all in, Lan Wangji wonders whether he might not be the first stranger to whom Wei Wuxian has taken a liking and brought along to parade in front of his more permanent friends, like a souvenir T-shirt bought on vacation, worn for a week, and then forgotten about. The thought leaves a sour taste in Lan Wangji’s mouth and he sets down his chopsticks on the side of the bowl, focuses on the act of chewing, the mechanical motion of his jaw.

But the moments that they’d shared on the train –– those had been real. They had to have been. Especially the way Wei Wuxian had clung to him when they’d arrived at Beijing West, eyes shut tightly and refusing to let go, as though if he did, the spell would be broken. 

Lan Wangji thinks about this and goes to pay the bill (success!) and receives, as a reward, more fawning praise from Wei Wuxian, in the third person, directed at Wen Ning, who just says, “Uh huh, okay, wow Lan-laoshi it’s very nice to meet you!” –– and flees as soon as the dinner’s over with a “See you tomorrow maybe?”

“Ahh,” Wei Wuxian says to Lan Wangji as they both stand on the street outside the restaurant, watching Wen Ning walk away as fast as his legs can take him. Lan Wangji had brought all his bags with him, and they are piled next to them like a third companion. “They grow up so fast!” Wei Wuxian sighs, leaning back against Lan Wangji’s side.

If Lan Wangji had ever behaved this way to his uncle, he would have been given a stern talking-to and possibly grounded. But Wen Ning seems to have done well for himself despite (or because of?) the lax ways in which the nurturing figures around him treat him. 

“You are a good parent,” Lan Wangji says, and Wei Wuxian snorts. Lan Wangji is so funny! You can’t tell when just looking at his glacial expressions, but he will say the best things at the most unexpected times. 

With Wen Ning gone, and now that they’ve stepped out of the warmth and light of the small noodle restaurant, the chill of the winter seems finally to seep its way into Wei Wuxian’s body. He zips his jacket up to his chin, shoves his hands deep into his pockets, and, rocking back on his heels, asks, Lan Wangji, “Where are you staying? I can walk you.”

It’s the least Wei Wuxian can do. After–– 

Lan Wangji hesitates. “Where is Wei Ying saying?”

Huh. The words I’m gonna just sleep on Wen Ning’s floor die in Wei Wuxian’s throat, because, well… Wen Ning is not around anymore to accept Wei Wuxian inviting himself illicitly into Wen Ning’s dorm. And Wei Wuxian hadn't actually planned for anything else. He does some quick calculations in his head and then says, “Well, I guess I can grab a room at your hostel? Unless you’re staying somewhere super bougie.”

It’s at that moment that a shuttering sound behind them starts Wei Wuxian –– the owner has, in the ten minutes since they paid and left, managed to pack up the entire place and is now locking up to go home.

The owner doesn’t seem to be in a hurry, though. He tilts his head to them in greeting, then says that there’s snow forecasted for tomorrow, or rather late tonight. Wei Wuxian makes small talk with the owner that becomes big talk once he finds out the owner is also from Hubei, even as the wind blows colder and colder. 

Winter in Beijing is no joke, especially when the smog gets into your nose and lungs and makes you feel like there’s some monster sitting on your chest when you sleep, constricting your chest, like in a Guy de Maupassant story. Lan Wangji stands there and “Mn”s, and lets Wei Wuxian thread his arm through Lan Wangji and thinks –– Well, it’s too cold to think, really. Especially when the owner insists on accompanying this 老乡 all the way to the hostel Lan Xichen chose for Lan Wangji (it’s on the owner’s way, and he wants to keep chatting), while Wei Wuxian hangs off Lan Wangji’s arm. 

Lan Wangji spends some of the journey terrified that they will ask him for his opinion (he has none, except for the fact that it is cold), feeling relief when it appears that Wei Wuxian will ignore him in favor of arguing over food –– “Laoban, you should serve Hubei food!” Wei Wuxian says, waving his hands, and the owner shrugs. 

“Maybe, maybe,” the owner responds, his eyes twinkling, and Lan Wangji doesn’t know how Wei Wuxian does it. And then Wei Wuxian is reaching to ruffle Lan Wangji’s hair with his other hand and Lan Wangji feels that sour taste again, rising up to his palate and pulling at his tongue, his teeth. It’s too much.

When they finally get to the hostel and the owner bids them goodbye and walks off, Lan Wangji lets his duffel fall on the ground, not caring how dirty it is; unlaces his arm from Wei Wuxian’s, and grabs Wei Wuxian’s wrist before Wei Wuxian can react. 

Lan Wangji’s grip on Wei Wuxian’s wrist is tight, possessive, a welcome reminder of the closeness they’d felt on the train and that Wei Wuxian has been chasing in the hours since. But all Wei Wuxian can pay attention to right now is Lan Wangji’s bag on the ground.

“Lan Zhan, if the bag’s too heavy you should’ve told me! I could’ve carried it for you. Although if it’s too heavy for you then I wouldn’t be able to––”

Lan Wangji pulls Wei Wuxian toward him so harshly that Wei Wuxian stumbles a little, has to steady himself with his spare hand propped against Lan Wangji’s chest. 

“What are you doing?” Wei Wuxian demands. They’re right in the middle of the street, still! No one’s around, but someone could come at any moment! The hostel receptionists can probably see them! 

“What are you doing?” Lan Wangji asks. His speech is accompanied by a puff of condensation, the white air only making his intense gaze look sharper, headier.

“I’m…? Trying to get into this hostel?!” Wei Wuxian replies, incredulous. His eyes dart back and forth, trying to see if anyone else is around, seeing this, until Lan Wangji reaches out with his other hand and pinches Wei Wuxian’s chin, forces him to focus.

“Do not say what you do not mean,” Lan Wangji says. 

And what does that mean? 

Wei Wuxian opens his mouth to protest, to deny –– and then shuts it. 

“Okay,” he says quietly.

Lan Wangji kisses him.

The tips of their noses are icy as they bump against one another, the collar of Wei Wuxian’s winter jacket scrapes uncomfortably against his neck, and he’s pretty sure his toes have gone completely numb from the cold, but who cares, who cares –– Lan Wangji’s lips are on his, soft and warm, and Wei Wuxian could stay here forever, suspended in this moment, Lan Wangji’s hand moving from his chin to the back of his neck where he’s sweaty and his hair is plastered to his skin. 

Even though it doesn’t make sense; that he feels cold and hot at the same time. Is this how it feels? Lan Wangji’s hand trembling a little, maybe because distantly Wei Wuxian notes that it’s begun to snow. 

He can feel the dots of coldness on his hair, his hand still held so tightly at the wrist by Lan Wangji that it’s bound to bruise, his own eyelashes, the bridge of Lan Wangji’s nose brushing against his. The snowfall is still light, but it seems to bring an added blanket of quiet to the metropolis. So that when Lan Wangji bites at his bottom lip, Wei Wuxian’s whimper is swallowed up by Lan Wangji’s mouth and he never wants to stop feeling this; Lan Wangji’s tongue sliding against his, strands of Lan Wangji’s hair tickling his forehead, Lan Wangji all around him and everywhere, always.

It’s Lan Wangji who breaks away first. His eyes flutter open as he stares at Wei Wuxian, mouth parted, ears stinging red from the mid-winter cold, pupils blown wide. There are flecks of gold in Lan Wangji’s eyes, Wei Wuxian realises, dazed; or maybe he’s just imagining them, in the dimness of the street. 

Wei Wuxian’s heart is pounding in his chest, his neck, his face, as he takes great big gulps of air. He must look like a man half-drowned. Lan Wangji finally lets go of his wrist, letting Wei Wuxian’s hand fall back to his side while Lan Wangji’s hand stays in that same position, partly raised, long fingers curled almost into a fist.

Wei Wuxian should say something. He should say –– He should –– What the hell does he say? He loves the steely way Lan Wangji stares at him, has loved it ever since their first meeting on the train when Lan Wangji had interrogated him over his ticket before they’d realised that Lan Wangji’s had been the fake. That gaze Wei Wuxian had mistaken for irritation or disdain at the start of the trip, until he’d seen it soften before him, because of him. What can Wei Wuxian say now, when Lan Wangji’s gaze has said it all already? And besides, Wei Wuxian doesn’t want to see Lan Wangji’s eyes now, beautiful as they are; he wants to kiss him again, and again after that, and some more. 

Lan Wangji’s hand slips from Wei Wuxian’s waist and he breaks eye contact, looking down somewhere past Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. Wei Wuxian shudders, sways, leans closer. 

And suddenly Lan Wangji is turning around and picking up that fucking duffel bag from the ground, grabbing the two other suitcases he has, and walking toward the hostel’s front door. 

Right. That. Wei Wuxian puts his hand on the handle of his own wheeling suitcase, even though it could have rolled away or been stolen just now for all he cares, and scrambles to follow.

Wei Wuxian pays for his own room, of course. Lan Wangji hangs back while he checks in, and stares at him unblinking during the elevator ride, then follows him to his room, even though Lan Wangji’s room is on a different floor. Wei Wuxian opens and closes the closet doors and marvels at the free little soaps. Lan Wangji says, “Mn,” and pockets them. (They’re very useful.)^[7]  

The TV doesn’t work, and Wei Wuxian presses all the buttons on the remote to try and wake it up. He takes out the batteries, puts them back in. Unplugs and re-plugs the monitor. Lan Wangji stands there and watches. After twenty painful minutes, he says, “Stop it.” 

Wei Wuxian pretends not to hear. He’s biting at his bottom lip in frustration. Or something. Lan Wangji walks over. Grabs a fistful of his hair. Pushes him down onto the bed, his legs falling open to make room for Lan Wangji, kneeling between them. 

It’s a single room and the bed is a twin. It creaks with every movement. Still, it feels like a miracle after days on the train. They make good use of it. 

The next morning, they try to get breakfast at the Hubei owner’s place again, but he’s closed for the holidays. 

“What now?” Wei Wuxian asks. He tucks a strand of his own hair behind his ear. Lan Wangji looks gorgeous in the daylight, cheeks a little dry from the cold. 

“I have to be somewhere at 11,” Lan Wangji replies.

“Oh,” Wei Wuxian says. He thought they were going to the park, like they’d said yesterday. Wen Ning cancelled lunch plans after finding out Lan Wangji would also be there, but Wei Wuxian wrangled a dinner promise out of him. Now Wei Wuxian has nothing to do, though. Nothing he wants to do, except stay and annoy Lan Wangji. He pouts. “Lan-er-gege,” he says. “You could not possibly be a 渣男? Ditching this one after having bedded him? After taking his maidenhead?”

Lan Wangji gives him a blank look. “You are not––”

“Lan-er-gege would so callously toss this one aside? Just another conquest?” Wei Wuxian pushes out his bottom lip, still a little bruised and red from this morning, and flutters his eyelashes for good measure.

Lan Wangji sighs and turns away; starts to walk with purpose down the street. Wei Wuxian grins and follows.

Lan Wangji doesn’t really know how to break it to Wei Wuxian that they are going to a cemetery; Wei Wuxian looks so happy to come along. Perhaps Lan Wangji can simply take his leave, making an excuse about needing the bathroom, and return after 30 minutes. While holding an urn. And hopefully Wei Wuxian will not bring it up. He doesn’t know. 

The smog is thick today; he should’ve worn a mask, but then it would be even harder to breathe. Lan Wangji wants to check his watch, but then remembers that he bartered it away on the train. Had he really done that? Should he feel sad about it now? He doesn’t know.

It’s two days before the new year and the streets are deserted. Wei Wuxian is in the middle of chattering when he suddenly stops; tugs at Lan Wangji’s arm until Lan Wangji stops walking too.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says seriously. He slips a hand into Lan Wangji’s pocket so that he can link their fingers together. One of the hotel soaps is in there, and when he feels it he smiles with fondness. 

When Wei Wuxian looks like he’s hesitating, Lan Wangji says, “Mn,” to get him to continue.

Wei Wuxian purses his lips. “I just realised that maybe the thing you have at 11 is that you’re going to meet your dad. So it’s probably weird if I’m there.” Then adds, “Haha.”

Lan Wangji tries to consider this scenario –– the one where his father is alive. How he would react if Lan Wangji showed up with some boy he met on a train. Maybe similarly to Wen Ning last night: confused but polite; open-minded and open-hearted? But Lan Wangji finds that he has no idea where even to begin, with a fantasy like that. He never knew his father well enough as a child, so of course he can’t even begin to imagine how they might have related to each other as two adults, almost equals. 

Whatever ‘weirdness’ Wei Wuxian is expecting in his head, it can’t be anywhere as strange as the void between Lan Wangji and the urn that he’s on his way to meet. Not even resentment, really; just nothingness, an absence whose presence had always been the elephant in every room of uncle’s house, growing up. After Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen had moved out, there were several years, Lan Wangji is certain, where he had not organically thought about his father at all –– only on anniversaries, or when an auntie lowered her voice to say, What a shame… It was –– is –– so much easier to treat Father as a non-entity. As something that never mattered. 

When Lan Xichen had texted him –– during what would’ve been the middle of the night in Canada –– Lan Xichen had said, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” But Lan wangji had found that an odd line. What did Lan Xichen mean, if you don’t want to ? 

As if things in life can truly be distinguished in that way: want, and don’t want. Vouloir. As if ‘want’ is something that is that easy to understand and evaluate, in others, in yourself. As if ‘want’ is some tangible thing that you can hold in your hands and look at, and say to it: I want you.

Inside Lan Wangji’s pocket, Lan Wangji can feel how cold Wei Wuxian’s fingers are; he adjusts his hand a little so that he can rub soothingly at Wei Wuxian’s knuckles. The cheap plastic wrapping of the hotel soap scratches at Lan Wangji’s skin. Wei Wuxian tickles him back, on his palm. 

Inside Lan Wangji’s pocket, they press the tips of their fingers against one another’s; and Lan Wangji feels how dry Wei Wuxian’s skin is from the winter, thinks about all the things he and Wei Wuxian have yet to say to one another.

This time he doesn’t blurt it out; it isn’t some spur of the moment thing. Wei Wuxian is still waiting on a response, eyes a little uncertain, and there’s no one else in this wide, wide street in the middle of the capital city, only cars rushing by too quickly to take notice of the two of them standing there half-blurred by the greyness of the smog.

“My father died twenty years ago,” Lan Wangji says. It comes out more measured and level than he could’ve hoped, which is nice. 

“哦,” Wei Wuxian says. He looks like he’s using all of his energy to rein back his need to fidget. Lan Wangji wants to tell him that he can fidget if he wants; but doesn’t. It’s not the right time. Wei Wuxian adds, “Mine too.”

“哦,” Lan Wangji says.

“And my mom.”

“哦,” Lan Wangji says. “Mine also.”

Wei Wuxian snorts, and that turns into a burst of laughter. His other hand finds Lan Wangji’s hand, in Lan Wangji’s other pocket. Now they’re joined together in a closed circuit. Like those games kids play where they twist and untwist their arms, at once so close to each other and also trying to get away.

“But yes,” Lan Wangji says, in answer to Wei Wuxian’s original statement –– yes, 11 o’clock is about Father.

Wei Wuxian takes this in, and nods. “Well. I have nothing else to do. My train to Wuhan is tomorrow morning. If you want me to come, I will –– I’d like to.”

That question again –– if you want.

“I want,” Lan Wangji says, because he does. 

Isn’t it strange that after something like 72 hours spent side by side with Wei Wuxian, he still doesn’t want to stop? How is that possible? Or rather: how is it possible that he’s spent hundreds of thousands of hours without Wei Wuxian, up until this week, up until now? 

“Okay,” Wei Wuxian says. He squeezes both of Lan Wangji’s hands, one in each pocket. Their palms have gotten clammy, and it’s a weird feeling because the rest of Wei Wuxian’s body is still cold, especially his face, the tip of his nose. When he eventually takes his hands out of Lan Wangji’s coat it’ll be all tingly and numb as he adjusts to the temperature, as though his hands are currently inhabiting an entirely different world than that of the rest of his body. 

Earlier this morning, after brushing his teeth, he’d come out and met eyes with Lan Wangji, sitting on the bed, watching him. Wei Wuxian had strided over and pinched Lan Wangji’s earlobe, which was all red even though it wasn’t cold inside the hostel room. Lan Zhan, he’d said, tapping at the bridge of Lan Wangji’s nose while Lan Wangji pretended to look bored. I just realised that you like me.

The look on Lan Wangji’s face had been so funny. Wei Wuxian had sat down on Lan Wangji’s lap again, arranging himself so that they were chest to chest, face to face, and propped his arms on Lan Wangji’s shoulders. He’d said, Fear not!! and had leant closer and said, I like you too. And Lan Wangji had said nothing, but had knocked their foreheads together and had wound his arms around Wei Wuxian’s waist, and they’d stayed there like that for a while, sitting on the edge of the creaky twin bed. The groaning sounds of the old radiator; the water in the pipes, from someone else on the same floor flushing their toilet. Lan Wangji’s heartbeat, betraying his true feelings when his face would not. 

This morning, out here in the cold street, Wei Wuxian thinks of that, and wishes he had a third arm that he could use to touch Lan Wangji’s face!! But he can’t, so instead he stands up on his tiptoes and bumps the tip of his nose against Lan Wangji’s, their foggy breaths mingling together into one. 

“But on one condition,” Wei Wuxian says, breaking the long silence. “I pay for breakfast.”

Lan Wangji huffs. They’re so close that Wei Wuxian can feel it against the skin above his lips.

“You can try,” Lan Wangji replies, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

They end up at KFC, one of the only open places. Lan Wangji makes up for the fact that he can’t eat most of what’s on the menu by chugging three cups of 豆浆 and Wei Wuxian snatches the QR code bill, triumphant. Even now, so much of their conversation is idle. It’s an incredible, surreal feeling for Lan Wangji, who had been raised not to 闲聊, to only speak when saying something useful. But everything is interesting when it’s coming out of Wei Wuxian’s mouth. Everything is surprising.

When Wei Wuxian finds out that Lan Wangji has never learned to whistle, he drags Lan Wangji outside to some empty square surrounded by low-rise buildings whose windows are all squares of black, the student residents having mostly gone home –– and they practice there. The initial embarrassment does not wear off, and Lan Wangji gets nowhere with it, but Wei Wuxian just ruffles his hair again and changes the topic.

“You know I’ve never been in such a wide empty space as this before?” he says, leaning his head against Lan Wangji’s shoulder as they stand side by side on the edge of the square, looking out onto the sprawling streets; straight lines receding into the horizon. “I’ve always had people around me all the time, until now.” He lifts his head, wide-eyed, and hastens to add, “Not that you’re not people, Lan Zhan! You’re just… you know....” Wei Wuxian trails off.

Lan Wangji is just…? But ‘just’ is such an unjust word; it implies smallness, something insignificant. It’s true that he doesn’t consider Lan Wangji to be ‘people’, but that’s not in a bad way! More like he feels so comfortable around Lan Wangji; has, since the beginning; it’s like he doesn’t need to pretend, except when it’s for fun. 

“Sorry,” Wei Wuxian ends up saying. “You know what I mean.”

Lan Wangji shrugs. Wei Wuxian is confused for a second, before he realises the gesture is to invite him to lean his head back; he smiles and does, snuggling up against Lan Wangji’s side even though the fact that they’re standing means it’s not the most comfortable position. (They could sit on the curb, but gross. And they don’t even have those handkerchiefs that aunties bring to cover the ground with.) 

It’s good with Lan Wangji here. 

Wei Wuxian doesn’t know how to say that. 

“There is no need for apologies between us,” Lan Wangji says in a low voice, and Wei Wuxian buries his face into Lan Wangji’s coat, not caring that it’s already picked up the grime of the city air. 

Wei Wuxian toes at the tiles on the pavement, runs his heels along the ridged ones they put down to guide blind people, and thinks about the train he has to take tomorrow to Wuhan, the plane Lan Wangji will be getting onto as well. And how big Beijing is, the way a city grows. 

A city like Beijing still has its limits, still is a constricted space, but instead of the walls of a carriage or a room it’s big concentric circles made of concrete and dirt, 三环，四环，五环, and Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji plotted onto them. 

“Hey, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says when too much time has passed. (It’s only actually been like three minutes.) “Do you like small spaces or big spaces?”

Lan Wangji considers this. “Big.”

“Hmm. I would’ve pegged you as small. Like so you can control everything inside it, and know where everything is… you know? Cool.” Wei Wuxian bites his lip. “What’s your favorite soap scent?”

“Sandalwood.”

“Cloth slippers of slides?”

“Slides.”

“ Interesting. ” Wei Wuxian lifts his head again and squints at Lan Wangji, a pantomime of thoughtfulness. “Very interesting. If you met yourself, would you fight him or make friends with him?”

This is a hard one; there are so many variables. “Pass,” Lan Wangji says.

“You can’t do that!!”

“Then fight.”

“Hmm,” Wei Wuxian says. “I think I would want you guys to get together and––”

“No.”

“I think it would be––”

“No.”

11 am arrives too fast.

The cemetery is far enough that they have to take the metro for a couple of stops to get there. For the first time since the train, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian find themselves going through security again, down escalators, waiting on a platform again. A metro station is a world apart from a busy place like Guangzhou’s stations of Beijing West, hulking, claustrophobic spaces flooded with light and noise that might as well be whole worlds in themselves. Such places aren’t made for commute, but for stasis, for long waiting and visits home. Whereas those who take the metro, even during the new year week –– the only time during which there can be any semblance of stillness in the city –– are like schools of fish along the current, swimming, swimming, with no occasion to rest. At home in Shanghai, Lan Wangji takes the metro every day. Sometimes he stands without holding on to anything and just feels the ground shift and sway beneath him, trying not to let himself fall.

The tunnels in Haidian are new enough that they have those moving ads that you can see through the subway windows; kineographs, some moon-pale celebrity taking a sip form a soft drink in perpetuity. There are enough people in the metro that Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian stand in the aisle, and Wei Wuxian unzips his jacket a little to cool himself down, baring his neck with bruises that ripple when he turns his head. Lan Wangji reaches over and pulls Wei Wuxian’s turtleneck collar up; not that that does much of anything.

Above them, the little green and red lights on the electronic metro map blink; and Wei Wuxian has still not run out of inane questions to ask Lan Wangji. Whether this is to distract Lan wangji or himself, Lan Wangji isn’t sure, but he answers to the best of his ability. 

Words come so easily to Wei wuxian, perhaps especially because most of what he says don’t really mean anything. Lan Wangji imagines that Wei Wuxian’s words gain substance when they come out of his mouth and hover in the air, until they’re this big mass that he can shape and wield to his satisfaction. Lan Wangji wrestles with Wei Wuxian’s words. 

Wei Wuxian lists everything he knows about Canada. Wei Wuxian lists the movies he’s seen this year. Wei Wuxian tells anecdotes about his nephew, who is 乖 in ways that he and his brother never were as children. A strand of hair by his ear escapes his loose ponytail and sticks to the corner of his mouth; he doesn’t seem to notice, but it flutters a little every time he speaks, made light by his breath. Lan Wangji wants to kiss him in front of everyone. Wants to make him sigh. He doesn’t. Instead he remembers all of this; or at least he hopes he will.

Wei Wuxian keeps talking even as they arrive at the cemetery office, where an employee is waiting for them, the appointment having been arranged by Lan Xichen. And somehow Wei Wuxian ends up being the one talking to the employee, making small talk as Lan Wangji looks out onto the rows of identical white slabs outside the window, receding into the smog. How odd to have a cemetery in the middle of a city, Lan Wangji thinks; he wonders which came first, which staked its claim onto this patch of land first: the dead, or the living.

The urn comes in a box. It’s discreet that way, but still quite large. Lan Wangji supposes that he might have to carry it onto the plan in his arms, zip-tied, the way other passengers will be carrying a steamer, or hefty cardboard boxes of regional specialties. Wei Wuxian is still talking to the employee, about 春晚 now, the programs and performances he hopes to see, and Lan Wangji feels a little overlooked, and feels stupid for feeling overlooked. Wei Wuxian is here for him, is smoothing the way, talking about Lan Wangji in the third person as though Lan Wangji is his. Wei Wuxian is helping him do the things he never wanted to do; is that not enough? 

It’s only when Wei Wuxian has bid farewell and happy new year to the employee and they’re back out onto the street that Wei Wuxian finally speaks directly to Lan Wangji again. He frowns slightly at Lan Wangji and says, “Hey, it’s okay,” and it’s only then that Lan Wangji realises that he’s crying.

It’s only a couple of tears leaking out, though when he blinks, his eyes sting, and more flow down his cheek. Still, a wave of shame hits him. He feels like he should at least give some kind of explanation to Wei Wuxian –– who still doesn't know anything about Lan Wangji’s father or his brother and yet came all the way here and –– and –– it’s not even that the words are ‘stuck’ in Lan Wangji’s throat, more that there are no words at all, not from Lan Wangji, not about this.

But Wei Wuxian has such a patient look on his face; patient not as in waiting, for the tears to stop or for Lan Wangji to speak. More as in just… being present. Offering that. 

When Lan Wangji sniffles, Wei Wuxian breaks into a smile, as though endeared. “Now, we can’t have that, can we?” he says softly as he reaches into Lan Wangji’s pockets, digging around until he finds a pack of tissues and uses one to dab at Lan Wangji’s nose. Then another tissue, held in front of Lan Wangji’s nostrils. “Blow,” Wei Wuxian says, and Lan Wangji does. 

There are minuscule black speckles in the snot, from the smog that Lan Wangji’s breathed in; gross. 

And Lan Wangji knows it’s because he’s carrying the box with both his hands, but still –– no one’s ever done that for him before. 

“Thank you,” he says, and regrets it as soon as he says it, because it feels so strange. It feels final. What is he thanking Wei Wuxian for? Just this? What about all the other things for which he’s grateful? How to separate a discrete action from the whole, when it’s everything that Lan Wangji wants to keep, all of it, all of him? 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Wei Wuxian asks, even though he knows the answer is no. When Lan Wangji shakes his head, Wei Wuxian pats his shoulder and says, “Alright.” 

“Let’s go to the park,” Lan Wangji says, so they walk there, even though Wei Wuxian winces internally every time he thinks he can hear the urn clinking against the cardboard box. He wonders if anyone ever held his parents like that. So full of import, yet so casual. 

In the park, there’s an artificial lake, and when they stand by the shore Wei Wuxian gets the irrational fear that Lan Wangji is going to, like, throw the urn into the water or something. Wei Wuxian would have to jump after it, surely. On the one hand, it’s Lan Wangji’s prerogative to throw his dad into the water –– but on the other hand, Lan Wangji’s brother would probably not be happy about that? And Wei Wuxian can’t just stand by and let someone get thrown into the water, even though they’re already dead? 

Anyway, Lan Wangji does not want to throw the urn, so thankfully Wei Wuxian does not have to make a fateful choice.

After a while, Wei Wuxian asks, “Is your mom also…?”

“She’s in Shanghai,” Lan Wangji replies.

“Okay.”

Wei Wuxian doesn't want to pry. It’s also not, like, as though he needs the Lan Wangji lore drop in order to like Lan Wangji as a person. (Or, more than like––) Sure, this isn’t what Wei Wuxian had expected, but without this, the urn, Lan Wangji would never have been on that train in the first place. It’s maybe kind of a fucked up first date (???) but at least Lan Wangji knows where his parents are buried, has the ability to pay tribute to them in any way he wants. Wei Wuxian only had photos, growing up, that Jiang-shushu and Yu-ayi gave him. 

All this to say –– it’s not that weird, for Wei Wuxian. He’s happy to spend time with Lan Wangji in any form; just one more afternoon and night. 

When they get back to the hostel, Lan Wangji figures out how to put the urn inside one of his suitcases, wrapped up in layers of his white and beige button-downs. Wei Wuxian finally figures out the TV, and puts on CCTV-13 with its 24-hour loop of ‘news’, although right now it’s just showing some footage of a crocodile? 

Lan Wangji still hasn’t been to his own hostel room at all. There’s no need to; they don’t mind the twin bed in this one. The two of them half-sit and half-sprawl on it, killing time before they go out to meet Wen Ning for dinner again. Neither of them really wants to make a trek back out into the rapidly-falling snow that will surely turn to slush as soon as they step into it with their inappropriate footwear. The four thin walls of the room close in on them, a comforting crushing weight. 

Lan Wangji tries to read his book, but Wei Wuxian annoys him into having sex again. And afterwards, Wei Wuxian says, “I can’t believe you like the this much.”

Lan Wangji gives him a look. From this angle, he has a slight double chin. Wei Wuxian flicks it. “On the train…” Lan Wangji starts, then stops.

“I mean, maybe you were just being nice!” Wei Wuxian protests, and Lan Wangji laughs, actually laughs.

“Don’t make fun of me,” Wei Wuxian says.

“I’m not,” Lan Wangji says. “I laughed because I’m––” a barely perceptible pause–– “happy.”

That makes Wei Wuxian gasp. He goes to slap Lan Wangji’s palm, though this ends up being far more of a high five than an admonishment.

They still have some time before they need to go out again, so Wei Wuxian lets his eyes flutter shut. “It’s okay. I’m obsessed with you too,” he mutters before he falls asleep.

Outside, the sun has set already, but the orange streetlights cast a dull glow onto his sweat-damp skin. The snow falls harder, accompanied by a soft whistling on the wind, and Lan Wangji gets up to shut the open window, sealing the room into silence once more. There’s not much extra room for him on the twin bed, but he curls up next to Wei Wuxian anyway, and kisses his goosebumps away.