Chapter Text
the universe
is twice as big as we think it is
and you
are the only one who made that idea less devastating
–Lucas Regazzi
"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan's voice calls out from downstairs, loud enough to be clear which means it's probably not the first call.
"Coming," he yells, scrambling out of the bed, and toppling all the files he had in his lap.
He sighs, looking at the mess on the bed, and then groans, looking at the completely empty work desk that Lan Zhan had so nicely set up for him.
He will definitely shift everything on the desk after dinner, he promises himself.
Before he can make his way out, his eyes catch the white of a fluffy fabric stuck under one of the files.
He winces, already dreading the sight as his fingers gingerly reach out to pull at it.
A towel.
A wet towel.
Which means a damp spot on the bed.
Fuck.
Lan Zhan is going to kill him.
As if being summoned, in the perfect speak of the devil moment, Lan Zhan pokes his head into the room, frowning.
"Wei Ying, I've been calling you since—," He pauses, spotting the towel in his hands.
His eyes narrow.
Lan Zhan steps forward, places a hand on the towel, and nods. Then he crosses his arms and levels Wei Ying with a look.
"Tell me you didn't just pick it up from the bed," he says, almost threateningly.
"Ididn'tjustpickitupfromthebed," Wei Ying mumbles.
Lan Zhan's eyes narrow further.
Wei Ying groans, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry baby, I promise I'll fix it after dinner."
As if to determine the degree of damage, Lan Zhan's head turns towards the bed. It happens before Wei Ying can pull him out of the room, and Lan Zhan gasps, eyes widening at the state of the bed.
Wei Ying scrambles again, haphazardly picking up all the files in a single scoop and dumping them unceremoniously on the work desk in a highly undignified manner.
Then he turns around and gives Lan Zhan his sunniest smile, only for it to falter because with the files now set aside, Lan Zhan's eyes have zeroed on the damp spot on the bed and he looks rather unimpressed.
Wei Ying laughs nervously, "It's no big deal, I swear this can be very easily fixed."
To prove the same, he climbs the bed, poking the spot with a finger, "You don't suppose a vacuum cleaner can suck out absorbed water, do you?" He asks suspiciously.
Lan Zhan glares.
Wei Ying laughs again, high-pitched. And because he's not done yet, he moves to the dresser and picks up the hair dryer.
Lan Zhan looks positively horrified, until the wire comes out to be too short and the dryer refuses to be pulled all the way to the spot, making him sigh in relief. He pries the dryer out of Wei Ying's hands and keeps it back on the dresser.
"I cannot believe you're an engineer," he mutters, shaking his head.
Wei Ying scowls. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Lan Zhan clocks him with another dead look. "We have an iron in the cupboard, Wei Ying."
"Oh right!" Wei Ying exclaims, already moving towards the cupboard. But Lan Zhan pulls him back, looping his arms around his waist to trap him.
"It is alright," he says, "come eat first. I'll change it later."
"Okay," Wei Ying resigns, with a pout.
Lan Zhan kisses it.
Then he takes his hands and walks them out of their room.
Their room.
Because they live together now.
It still makes Wei Ying warm in the stomach. Their home and all the domesticity that comes with it.
As they eat together, a terribly healthy meal of vegetables, soup, rice, and salad, he smiles recalling the memory of when Lan Zhan had suggested living together – dropping it like a bomb as a result of some mundane thought.
It was during one of their date nights at Wei Ying's apartment when they were cleaning up after dinner.
Wei Ying was absently doing the dishes as Lan Zhan cleaned the kitchen when he had, without warning, said, "Wei Ying, move in with me," and although they were practically already living together, Wei Ying had dropped the plate he was diligently scrubbing, into the sink with a clang.
Lan Zhan had come up to hug him from behind. "What happened? You don't want to?" He had asked.
Wei Ying had exasperatedly proceeded to take the gloves off, grumbling, "Couldn't you say this at a time when I wasn't half submerged in detergent?"
Lan Zhan had only pulled him closer and said, "Oh".
Once the gloves were off and hands were washed, Wei Ying had done the only thing he could do.
He had turned around and grabbed Lan Zhan by the waist, and then, pushing him on the edge of the sink, he had kissed the lights out of him.
That had also gone on to become the first time they made love on the kitchen floor.
In the months that followed, Wei Ying had made Lan Zhan visit the most ostentatious houses asking him to choose.
Fully willing to splurge the infant revenues of Stygian Inc.
That's right. That's his child's name – his still budding company dedicated solely to invention, innovation, and improvement in technology. Started just a little over a year ago, the alacrity with which it has clambered heights has been a thing of envy in the higher strata, rapidly gaining success in terms of clients as well as reputation.
He couldn't be more proud of it.
The first time his company cracked a deal, Lan Zhan had indeed celebrated by tying up the Wei Tech CEO which, over time, quickly changed to Director Wei, much to Lan Zhan's delight who found it sexier.
Although, the designations are merely in name seeing as most of the official work is overlooked by Qin Su and Wen Ning whom he calls his acting CEOs.
What director Wei does is, he wears his devil prints to the office – way too happy to get rid of the suits – and spends almost all of his working hours in his private lab, the demon's lair.
The name was coined to vibe with his clothes and mind you, he is very very proud of it.
Anyway, coming back to their home.
When Lan Zhan kept frowning at his choices, he had obnoxiously mentioned a mansion and was promptly stripped of his right to find them a house.
Weeks later, Lan Zhan had himself taken him to check one out.
A medium-sized bungalow, located a little on the outskirts but not entirely remote. It had a cozy garden adjoining it and a basement to replace the attic at Wei Ying's old apartment where he used to store his personal projects.
He could see why Lan Zhan liked it. Because he had instantly fallen in love.
After months of shopping, furnishing, designing, and decorating, they had finally moved in.
At the housewarming party a week later, his sister had gifted him a framed picture – one that was taken at a club a few months before, on their first anniversary.
They had just shared a romantic dinner when they were pestered into joining their friends for drinks. Wei Ying had shamelessly spent the evening publicly smooching Lan Zhan amidst all the boos and the hoots.
Lan Zhan had afterward taken him to a tattoo shop. His bewilderment was answered by Lan Zhan asking for a tattoo to match the one on Wei Ying. Nothing he had said could deter the stubborn man, not even the threat of his uncle.
In the end, they had gone home with matching suns on their chests. Wei Ying had spent half the night weeping in Lan Zhan's arms and the rest, kissing the tattoo and worshiping the body it was inked on.
In the picture, he was smiling at the camera, wide, as if the camera held something that made him the happiest man alive. Sitting beside, Lan Zhan was staring at him, also smiling, adoring him as if Wei Ying hung the moon for him. There was a bunny necklace settled over his chest.
It was his favorite present that evening.
That had been almost eight months ago.
As he now watches Lan Zhan pick up the crispier potato pieces from his own plate and place them on his, he wonders how he ended up living what was once just a dream.
"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan says, cutting through the haze of his thoughts, "I think you should let me work on the garden for a while."
"No, absolutely not," he exclaims, "Lan Zhan, I can do it, really." He adds a pout to it, just to be sure.
His gaze softens immediately.
"I know you can," Lan Zhan says, with much love, "but it's been eight months. Maybe we should try some other species."
That's right. It's been eight months since he's been trying to grow gentians. Eight months and those stubborn flowers still refuse to show their faces.
"No way! If we can't grow gentians in your own garden then what's even the point?" He says, mad at the flowers or the soil or himself, he doesn't know.
Lan Zhan sighs but lets it go.
For all that the walls of their home are still comparatively new, they have witnessed every aspect of their lives.
The happiness, the bickering, the love. And sometimes, the little fights. It's still as flabbergasting as ever how the esteemed second master Lan, known for the calmest demeanor, in fact, has the worst temper.
The last time they argued, it was over the washing machine. No, Wei Ying hadn't broken it. Neither had he mixed the whites with the non-whites. Wei Ying, being used to working with electronics, had, in all his innocence, tried to mend its broken wire.
With the plug on.
Lan Zhan had flipped, and when Wei Ying tried to explain that they use the laminated wires, Lan Zhan refused to listen to reason because, "one can never be too careful, Wei Ying."
It had resulted in a staring contest at the end of which, Wei Ying, in an attempt to liven up the atmosphere, had made a joke along the lines of 'my death by wires' and Lan Zhan had promptly stormed out of the house.
Once again in rain, Wei Ying had noted with mounting disbelief.
Except that this time, when he had caught up to him, it had resulted in their first kiss in the rain, culminating into a heated outdoor makeout, inevitably followed by passionate love-making in the shower.
Lan Zhan had made him promise that night to never talk about dying.
And then, they both had sneezed their way through the rest of the week.
Least to say, they rarely fight. And even when they do, it's always over some ridiculous reason.
So, Wei Ying is less taken aback and more amused as he stares back at Lan Zhan's pissy text.
He had lovingly texted him a 'Can't wait to see you' as per what has become somewhat of a habit. Sometimes, he texts him his lunch pictures, and sometimes, a simple 'thinking of you' when he's stuck in a boring meeting.
Lan Zhan's replies are always either equally loving or excessively horny.
But right now, what stares back at him from the phone is a petty, and a very pissy, 'Okay' .
He told Lan Zhan he can't wait to see him and Lan Zhan said okay.
He racks his brain to locate what his offense might have been. As far as his memory stretches, things have been good. Better in fact.
Just last night they attended their second family dinner at the Lan house and it went so much better than the first one.
Not that the first one was a nightmare exactly, but then, Wei Ying doesn't remember much of it. He was too occupied worrying about meeting the family. Unlike Lan Zhan who had instantly gained jiejie's favors by bonding with her over kids and soup recipes, Wei Ying had little hope for himself.
His fears weren't exactly unfounded knowing how greatly Lan Qiren disapproved of him. Lan Zhan is the darling of his little family. They love him fiercely. Wei Ying knew that. He had awaited a shovel talk throughout the silent dinner.
Although, when they did take him aside – after occupying Lan Zhan with the dishes – Lan Xichen had somberly told him to take good care of his brother because he hasn't seen him like this since his mother. Uncle had reluctantly nodded.
Wei Ying had kind of understood then, where their protectiveness stemmed from, because at that moment, he had felt the same.
The second dinner, however, Wei Ying considers a total success. Lan Qiren not only didn't scowl at him but also put extra food on his plate. And when Wei Ying pouted at its blandness, he begrudgingly passed him the pepper shaker too.
So Wei Ying is still at a loss by the time he parks the car and opens the door to their home.
He hears the shower running from the bathroom meaning he's clear to sneak into the kitchen. He removes the lid of the pan resting on the counter and sure enough, there's spicy stir-fry in it with a scary abundance of green peas.
Wei Ying sighs.
Lan Zhan has the most bizarre way to let out his anger. He shows it by cooking a dinner with an excess of spices and green peas in it.
Because Wei Ying likes both and he can stand neither.
His idea of getting back at Wei Ying is making him watch his boyfriend-soulmate eat the thing he hates from the bottom of his heart.
It's not even ridiculous because it always works. Wei Ying is fundamentally incapable of watching Lan Zhan torture himself.
He chews his lip, retrieves his car keys, and steps out again. Driving over to a small, shabby-looking diner, he places an order for two takeaways of dry noodles. On his way back, he stops at the nearby confectionery and buys a box of cupcakes. With blueberry frosting, for good measure.
When he reaches back home, Lan Zhan is at the dining table flipping through a magazine. He doesn't look up when he hears him but his eyes narrow when Wei Ying places the stuff he's brought on the table.
He says nothing, quickly disappearing into the shower. When he comes out, Lan Zhan is setting the table with dinner he has cooked.
Wei Ying walks over and hugs him from behind. Lan Zhan simply unclasps his hands, moves away, and takes his seat.
Wei Ying scowls. "What did I do?"
It was apparently the wrong thing to say because Lan Zhan's nostrils flare immediately. He grits his teeth, picking up the chopsticks with an absolutely blank expression, scoops a huge bite, and stuffs it all into his mouth.
Wei Ying huffs, beyond incensed, as Lan Zhan chews, mutinously glaring down. Fine. If Lan Zhan is going to be unfair like this, then Wei Ying won't ask.
"Whatever," he mutters, pulling his plate.
It all lasts about two minutes.
He soldiers through Lan Zhan's nose turning red, soldiers through the first cough, and soldiers through the first sniff. The moment Lan Zhan's eyes turn glassy, he slams his chopsticks back on the table and pours a glass of water.
Holding Lan Zhan by the back of his neck, he forces him to take a sip. Lan Zhan drinks, glaring at him.
Once he's sure the pea damnation is washed down, Wei Ying saunters over to the refrigerator and returns with a few ice cubes. Squishing Lan Zhan's cheeks between his fingers, he opens his mouth and pushes a cube in.
Lan Zhan's face is still red, with a coating of sweat on his forehead and neck, the sight pricking like needless in Wei Ying's belly, but at least he's sucking on the ice cube.
"Why do you do this to yourself?" Wei Ying says, sadly, dabbing Lan Zhan's forehead with his t-shirt sleeve.
Lan Zhan only turns away.
Unwrapping a cupcake, Wei Ying lovingly offers it. The stubborn man only glares back
Wei Ying sighs.
He gets out of his chair and rotates Lan Zhan's chair by ninety degrees. Fixing his legs on either side, he straddles Lan Zhan's lap, sitting atop the same chair.
Then he picks up the discarded cupcake, smears its frosting all over his mouth, and leans in.
Tipping up Lan Zhan's face and tilting his own, Wei Ying slots their lips together with a little force – kissing Lan Zhan's grumpily closed mouth, messily rubbing his icing-smeared lips against his until Lan Zhan's jaw slowly slackens and he reciprocates, kissing back slow and steady. Wei Ying's hands slip down to firmly loop around his neck as Lan Zhan builds up a rhythm, his tongue wiping off all the frosting.
When he pulls back, Lan Zhan's eyes are a lot less fiery. His jaw is no longer clenched and his lower lip is curled out into a barely noticeable pout. Wei Ying kisses it too.
"Tell me now," he whispers, nosing into his hair.
"Mrs. Huang came to borrow brown sugar. Again. " Lan Zhan says, finally, voice laced with disdain.
Wei Ying pauses, well aware of their neighbor's never-ending snark with Lan Zhan. He is always at odds with her because she keeps endorsing her daughter. The same daughter who, according to Lan Zhan, has a very obvious crush on Wei Ying, although Wei Ying is pretty sure it's the other way around. She had gaped like a fish once when she was here to borrow sugar and Lan Zhan had come fresh out of the shower with wet hair. Wei Ying can't blame her. The sentiment was mutual.
"Okay... and?" He asks.
"She told me to tell you that her daughter is very much like her so you should consider her," Lan Zhan grits out, back to glaring.
Wei Ying frowns, trying hard to find the head and tail of this argument.
"According to her," Lan Zhan continues, through clenched teeth, "You will marry anyone who is like her."
Wei Ying reels back, eyes widening. "No way!" He bursts out laughing. "I was joking."
He ran into her at the grocery store a few days back. She mentioned something along the lines of marriage so he had jokingly said to her, "Find me someone like you, Mrs. Huang." It was for the sole reason that he had presumed she was joking too. That she knew about him and Lan Zhan. Because how could anyone not? They're way too obvious.
Lan Zhan's glare turns icy. "Then go joke with her all night," he grits, trying to push him off.
"Noooo," Wei Ying grips the back of the chair firmly.
"I've told you multiple times to tell her off," Lan Zhan grumbles.
"Why don't you do it?" Wei Ying pouts.
"I have," Lan Zhan's jaw hardens again, "She does not take me seriously."
Wei Ying bites back a smile, well remembering the occasions he has caught them being politely passive-aggressive to each other. He has a feeling Mrs. Huang does it deliberately. She likes to tease Lan Zhan.
"Lan Zhan," he leans in and kisses his cheek, "Baby we cannot do that. She's our neighbor."
"So what?" Asks the unreasonable man.
"It's rude, my love," he says, kissing the other cheek, "I'm sure you wouldn't like it either."
"You are mistaken," Lan Zhan says with a solemn, calm conviction, "I would not mind."
Wei Ying chuckles. Lan Zhan can be downright petty when he wants to be.
"Okay, okay how about this?" He asks in another attempt to pacify the very upset man, "The next time I run into her, I'll make our relationship vocally clear to her."
That apparently appeases him enough seeing as Lan Zhan's arms slowly wrap around him.
He utters an "Mn" before resting his forehead on Wei Ying's chest.
"I'm sure she won't be a nuisance after that," Wei Ying muses, patting his head, "And if she still does….," he trails off smelling his freshly shampooed hair.
"Then I will poison the sugar," Lan Zhan mutters against his chest.
Wei Ying's eyebrows shoot up as he bursts out in full-blown howling laughter. He pulls Lan Zhan back to smother his face with kisses and finds a small smile on his lips.
Lan Zhan bites him hard at the end of the kiss, probably to get even.
Jealousy isn't the only thing that makes Lan Zhan act a little crazy.
His absurdity gets stirred by the most unlikely causes, and often, it gives way to weird obsessions.
Sometimes, it shows up when he's trying to get a music score right, and sometimes, when he's trying to find the best tomatoes in the farmer's market.
Mostly, it amuses Wei Ying. On some occasions, it exasperates him.
The only time it made him angry was when Lan Zhan tiptoed out of their room one winter night to sleep on the couch because the scars on his back were acting up. They were out of his ointment, so, in order to not disturb Wei Ying with his fidgeting, he decided to step out.
Wei Ying had refused to talk to him the next day. And at night, he had kissed all the scars while putting medicine and threatened no sex for a week if this is ever repeated.
So it's hardly ever an issue between them. Except when it is.
Like right now, the way Lan Zhan is obsessively baking the third cake and completely ignoring him makes Wei Ying want to pour vinegar on his cake.
He's been sitting on the stool in the kitchen for almost two hours now just watching Lan Zhan pace around to and fro. Wei Ying sighs, loudly. It gets no attention.
Once the cake has cooled enough, Lan Zhan cuts out a tiny slice and brings it over for Wei Ying to taste.
Wei Ying opens his mouth, accepts the cake, and chews. "It's perfect," he says, for the third time.
Lan Zhan tastes a piece and immediately frowns, also for the third time.
"I cannot taste the cinnamon." He says.
And Wei Ying wants to cry because what the hell is cinnamon now?!
When Lan Zhan begins to retrieve the ingredients for the fourth time, Wei Ying springs out of his seat and begins pacing behind him.
"Baby I think you're being a little bit crazy," he says, truly fearful.
Lan Zhan stops in his tracks, levels him with a glare, and resumes, again with Wei Ying trailing him.
"At least I'm not getting seven hundred 'With Love, Lan Wangji' cards printed," he mutters, menacing, "or threatening a jury to give me an award because believe me, that's the actual definition of cra— get out of my way, Wei Ying!"
Wei Ying scowls. That's… well that's fair. But still! In his defense, the fanmails Lan Zhan receives are very very cute, it's only fair to thank the senders. And he hadn't exactly threatened anyone, he had requested them. He already knew Lan Zhan was going to win. He just… wanted to leave no stone unturned perhaps? Just in case. Not like it had worked anyway with Lan Zhan ruining his plans at the last minute.
He wraps himself on Lan Zhan's back when he begins whipping the batter.
"The clients are hardly going to reject the deal over a cake," he mumbles into his neck, "they approached me themselves, didn't they?"
"Of course they're going to sign," Lan Zhan says, almost fiercely, "you've spent so many sleepless nights on it, they'd be a fool to say no," he shakes his head, as if he wasn't the one waking up all night to give Wei Ying coffee and snacks, "but they're your first international clients Wei Ying, we cannot leave a stone unturned, just in case."
Oh…
Lan Zhan doesn't stop at the cake, however. In the evening, he forces Wei Ying to dress in the slickest of his suits as opposed to his own casual blue shirt.
But Wei Ying absolutely draws a line when Lan Zhan insists on taking off the red thread on his wrist because it doesn't look very suave according to him.
"I won't go if you make me take it off," he makes his stance clear.
"Just for tonight," Lan Zhan requests.
"This," Wei Ying points at the thread, "is not going anywhere," he says, not budging an inch.
Lan Zhan glares at him for a moment, then he sighs, "You will wear a tie then," he says, already moving toward the closet.
He manages to tie a neat and elegant knot around him while simultaneously batting away Wei Ying's inappropriate hands that keep tickling his butt.
"Perfect," Lan Zhan says when he's done, flicking back a disobedient bang of Wei Ying's hair that keeps falling over his eyes.
Wei Ying grins. "As if anyone will look at me with you there."
"We're not going there to be looked at, Wei Ying," Lan Zhan scolds, frowning, "focus."
Wei Ying sighs.
He wasn't wrong, it turns out. Because the way his Italian client's daughter appraises Lan Zhan is evidence enough. Her gaze lingers on him even while shaking Wei Ying's hand, and her gratitude for Lan Zhan's cake is a bit excessive.
And so, while making introductions, Wei Ying puts on his cheekiest smile and, slipping a hand around Lan Zhan's waist, he says, "This is Lan Wangji, my soulmate."
Lan Zhan makes a sound, stilling in his arms. The people around blink for a moment, then chuckle. The daughter looks even more amused.
"Behave," Lan Zhan hisses on their way inside.
"Wasn't it your idea?" Wei Ying grins.
Around an hour before the dinner, the hostess invites them to the entertainment room. "We can have a game of chess," she says, glancing Lan Zhan up and down. "Or perhaps, a game of pool."
Wei Ying's eyes narrow. Before he can answer, however—
"Pool sounds great," Lan Zhan respectfully accepts.
Wei Ying scoffs privately, and then turns to the traitor the moment the hostess disappears. "You don't even like snooker."
"And you overturn the chess board when you lose," Lan Zhan retorts.
"I do not," he lies through his teeth.
Lan Zhan side-eyes him, with barely concealed contempt. "You did it just last week," he points out. "Not only that, you even threw all the pillows at me. We are still missing a white pawn."
"Ohmygod," Wei Ying facepalms. "Do you keep score or something? And I don't do it every time."
"Indeed," Lan Zhan agrees. "That's because you don't lose everytime."
One of his eyebrows rises in challenge, nostrils flaring. "How are you so sure I won't overturn the pool table?"
Lan Zhan draws back, faintly alarmed. "Do not do that."
"Then listen to what I'm saying," Wei Ying hisses. "I lose only to you. No one can beat us if we play together."
Lan Zhan pauses. "What if we win and offend the host?"
Wei Ying's mouth falls open. Before he can retort, however, they're called again. So he pulls Lan Zhan along, grinning menacingly, "Come let's teach you some pool."
The hostess challenges them to a match of three games.
Wei Ying raises an eyebrow and accepts. He's been around enough pesky rich people to know he can win this single-handedly.
Sweeping a win in the first game, he immediately puckers his lips to Lan Zhan for a smooch. Lan Zhan looks around, long-suffering, and leans in to kiss him on the cheek.
"Lose the other two games, Wei Ying," he whispers before moving back.
Wei Ying frowns and claims his public smooch anyway.
He wins the second round too, much to Lan Zhan's vexation.
When only the black balls remain in the last round, he turns to Lan Zhan.
"Darling, I think I'll need my luck," he says, pulling him in.
Lan Zhan gasps a little when Wei Ying positions his hands on the stick and places his own on top. Then he bends slightly, hooking his chin on Lan Zhan's shoulder, eyeing the table sharply – giving the room a full show of some sexually charged pool playing.
The moment the black ball disappears into the pocket, he places a light kiss under Lan Zhan's ear and turns to his opponent, hands wrapping around Lan Zhan's waist in front of him.
And finds her grinning back at him. She winks, and Wei Ying laughs instantly, shaking his head. She baited him and he took it.
Lan Zhan, for his part, jabs him with an elbow. Hard.
In the end, the contract is signed with full fanfare and Lan Zhan finally relaxes. He returns to his normal self of not talking to anyone and Wei Ying couldn't be happier about it.
At the dinner table, mostly project discussions are had while the hostess engages in a conversation about books with Lan Zhan.
When desserts are rolled, Wei Ying refuses his share. Then scoops a large bite from Lan Zhan's and gobbles it down, too used to it now to notice.
"Mr. Wei, I can call the servers back," the hostess says, a bit discomfited.
He blinks, confused, before it registers. "Oh uhh, I can't eat sweets if they're not his… if that makes sense," he laughs nervously.
The people have bewilderment written on their faces.
Lan Zhan clears his throat, "It is alright," he says, "he is a little peculiar about desserts."
While bidding them goodbye, the hostess says, "You are a lovely couple."
"Let's do business again sometime," her father adds.
Lan Zhan preens about it the entire ride back.
Back at home, Lan Zhan comments, "We should get a pool table," while slapping moisturizer on his face.
"You like playing now?" Wei Ying asks from the bed.
"Not for playing."
He looks up from his phone and finds an evil glint in Lan Zhan's eyes.
The laughter that goes off is probably heard by the entire neighborhood.
And weeks later, one evening when he steps into the garden equipped with his usual gardening gear, he notices some weeds on the side.
Placing Bichen, Suibian, and Yutu (mentioned in order of importance) aside to play, he's about to get the mower when he catches a little blue of something, hidden between the leaves – a very small, obscured little thing. The almost dark sky makes it easy to miss.
He squints, inching closer, and gasps.
It's a bud.
"Lan Zhan!" He shrieks, causing the furballs to huddle close, "Lan Zhan, come out quick."
Within seconds Lan Zhan emerges, eyes wide, with a wiper in a hand looking around as if to spot some kind of mortal danger.
Wei Ying looks at him confused.
Then eyes at the wiper as if to say: seriously? A wiper for protection against mortal danger?
Not to mention, Chenqing is right there inside. No kind of danger gets past her.
Lan Zhan sheepishly sets the wiper down on the side when he spots Wei Ying, unharmed, with no intruders in the vicinity. His ears turn adorably red.
Wei Ying gestures to him to come over.
He shows him the bud and Lan Zhan's eyes widen.
When Lan Zhan attempts to touch, he swats his hand away.
"It's too delicate right now," he whispers, as if the bud will get upset if he's louder, which is weird, considering his very loud shriek had just given Lan Zhan an almost heart attack.
He's crouching down with his elbow on a knee, adoring the bud, a finger slowly moving along the closed-up petals, not quite touching, when Lan Zhan says, "We should get married," and Wei Ying loses his balance.
He slips and falls on the side of his butt, his hand falling with a thud, all over the bud.
He quickly scrambles up, haphazardly looking around to check on his precious flora, and finds it lying in the soil, broken, crushed, and deformed.
"Lan Zhan!" He wails.
Lan Zhan, for his part, at least looks apologetic with his eyes as big as saucers.
But then—
"Wait what?" He asks.
"What?" Lan Zhan asks back, blinking.
"What did you just say?" Wei Ying asks again, voice a little thin.
"I said that we should get married," Lan Zhan answers, nodding diligently.
Wei Ying goes perfectly still for a moment – a part of him overwhelmed to the point of clogging his throat, a part of him unnecessarily annoyed at Lan Zhan's habit of wreaking havoc out of the blue, and there's a part of him that's scared, scared because this was once everything he ever wanted. His little dream that he once gave up on.
In the end, he settles on incredulity.
He folds his arms, puts on the most chagrined look he can manage over his squeezing heart, and says, "Is this how you're going to propose? Is this all I'm worth?"
It's a little unconvincing.
But Lan Zhan looks alarmed.
"You write the most imaginative stories, most elaborate songs and this is how you ask the love of your life to marry you? As if you'd rather not."
Wei Ying makes sure to add a pout to it.
It works. Lan Zhan looks positively guilty.
"So much for having a fairytale soulmate," Wei Ying mumbles, miserably.
Lan Zhan raises an eyebrow at that.
He tilts his head and asks, "How do they propose in fairytales, Wei Ying?"
Oh. He knows.
He knows Wei Ying is playing with him.
But then, Wei Ying is nothing if not persistent.
"Fine," he says, "I'll teach you how to propose. Then you do it in a much grander way, deal?"
Lan Zhan nods.
Wei Ying looks around, then bends down and plucks a grass blade and ties it to make a circle with a knot on top. Then he fixes the crushed gentian bud on top of the knot to make it look somewhat like a ring.
When he's satisfied with it, he looks up. Lan Zhan looks very amused.
He narrows his eyes. "Now watch and learn," he tells him, pointedly.
"First, you have to state some of the very best things about me followed by grand poetic lines of how much you love me," he says, making large hand gestures at 'grand' and 'poetic' .
"Like what?" Lan Zhan asks.
"Like uhmmm ..," he racks his brain for all the things he'd like to tell him. To somehow encapsulate in words all that this man means to him. It feels like a major disservice. In the end, he simply looks at him, as earnestly as he can, and says, "Lan Zhan, baby you're my favorite kind of adventure. You're the happiest thing that's ever happened to me."
Lan Zhan's eyes look impossibly loving when he says, "So are you."
Wei Ying averts his gaze, shaking his head.
"Is that all I have to say, Wei Ying?" Lan Zhan asks, eyes twinkling.
"No! Of course not," he clears his throat, "there's so much more."
Lan Zhan nods, waiting.
Wei Ying grapples some more, to somehow, anyhow, give coherent words to the feelings that reverberate through him, day and night.
"I think I love you crazily," he says, lost in thought. "Like–like a madman tasting life for the first time," he pauses, "but I would like to love you sanely too, y'know, like one loves a pillow on a tiring day, or–or a tissue when we have a cold? Or—Don't you laugh at me! You think I can't tell you're laughing on the inside?"
Lan Zhan, who was valiantly trying to not laugh, snorts. He snorts, then quickly schools his face.
"Tissue?" He asks, laughing through his eyes.
Wei Ying narrows his eyes. "Yes. I want to be the tissue to your nose."
And Lan Zhan is no longer laughing on the inside because he's legitimately snickering outwardly with a fist on his mouth—as his frame shakes with badly contained laughter—and tears in his eyes.
"Alright," he says, wiping the corner of his eyes, "I will love you like tissue paper."
"Except the use-and-throw part," Wei Ying quips, blinking. "Yeah except that–right uhm–I mean reusing is always good, isn't it? But you can't throw me away… uh I don't know Lan Zhan, you're trapped now, you signed up for this. There's only one of me for you."
Through laughter etched on his face, Lan Zhan smiles. "Eco-friendly love, is it?"
Wei Ying grins. "Indeed," he says, cheekily, "we're responsible adults after all and–uh okay wow–I guess what I'm trying to say is, I've been loving you in a way that makes sense to me, and now I want to love you in a way that makes sense to the world. I want to have legal rights over you, I want to be able to make decisions on your behalf. I want to come first… officially. I want to call you husband... yeah I think that'd be sexy."
Lan Zhan's smile deepens. "Sounds like a very good idea to me."
"It is, right?" Wei Ying smiles, the kind that crinkles the corner of his eyes.
Lan Zhan nods. "Is that all I have to say?"
He blinks, confused for a second before his eyes widen.
"Oh right," he exclaims, clearing his throat, "that's how you do it, hopefully, you'll have something nicer than a tissue since you're a writer."
"And after all that," Wei Ying continues his instructions, "you do this."
He drops down in front of Lan Zhan, on both knees, sitting on his heels, and holds out the grass ring with both hands, like an offering.
Tilting his head, he gives the man his most charming smile and says, "Lan Zhan, Lan Wangji, will you be mine legally? Will you marry me?"
Lan Zhan waits for a beat and—
"Yes," he says, plucking the grass ring from Wei Ying's fingers, smiling at it with adoration.
Wei Ying beams.
Then promptly comes back to his senses and stands up with a jolt.
"Hey! You're not supposed to say yes. I'm supposed to say yes."
Lan Zhan looks smug.
Wei Ying's jaw drops.
Lan Zhan steps forward, takes his face in his hands, and kisses his forehead. "I'm already yours, Wei Ying, and I would very much like to marry you. Come let's eat dinner now," and he really does walk out of the garden to go to the... kitchen apparently.
On the way back, Lan Zhan stops to scoop up his fur babies and says to them, "Cannot wait to tell my grandchildren that it was Wei Ying who proposed to me. It will make a good story."
Wei Ying sputters. Grandchil—
"Hey!" He shouts, but Lan Zhan has already disappeared into the house.
Wei Ying won't leave it at this, he decides. He will get back. He's plotting his perfect revenge when his stomach grumbles.
He looks down at it with a miserable pout. Maybe, he can be the avenger later. Yes, later. Right now, he wants food.
Having made up his mind, he wanders inside too.
The dinner that night tastes extra delicious for something as simple as a tofu stir-fry and rice.
Although, he makes it a point to make it obvious to his boyfriend-soulmate that he's mad at him. Glaring at him continuously like a man possessed is just the way to do that, Wei Ying is sure.
The soulmate, though, only looks amused.
By the time Wei Ying is done with leftover office work and retires to the bedroom, he's exhausted. Lan Zhan is already in bed. He changes into sleeping clothes and brushes his teeth.
He's washing his face in the bathroom when two arms engulf him from behind and a face nestles in the crook of his neck.
He looks up in the mirror and finds Lan Zhan in his pajamas – hair mussed and all over the place as if he was fidgeting.
It's Wei Ying's favorite look on him.
"What is it, baby?" He asks, softly, brushing a thumb on Lan Zhan's hands clasped around his waist.
Revenge long forgotten.
"Mn," Lan Zhan drops a kiss on his neck.
"Can't sleep?"
"Mn," Lan Zhan snuggles him closer and places another, lengthier kiss.
It tickles Wei Ying, making him giggle.
"Marry me." Lan Zhan mumbles sleepily, face still stuffed between his neck and shoulder.
That reminds him. He narrows his eyes at the mirror. Lan Zhan's eyes are closed as if he's simply resting in the coziest place in the world rather than standing on a cold bathroom floor.
"Never!" He says, already smiling.
"Marry me." Lan Zhan says again.
Wei Ying bites back his smile. "You can't order people to marry you."
"Marry me." Lan Zhan licks his earlobe.
Wei Ying closes his eyes. "You're gonna seduce me into marrying you?" he breathes, already tilting his head for more.
"Marry me, please."
That makes him chuckle. "You can't request people either, you have to ask… nicely."
"Marry meee?" It's just a change of tone to emphasize the question but it sounds like a drawn-out, annoyed whine.
It makes Wei Ying laugh.
"Fine. Okay. Yes, I'll marry you," he gives in, laughing. "Of course I'll marry you, you ridiculous man."
Lan Zhan only smothers his neck and ears with kisses, huge, open-mouthed, licking him wet all over as Wei Ying melts into them, humming contently.
He's about to turn around and perhaps have a go at it right there on the bathroom floor when something cold slips on his finger.
"Come out soon," Lan Zhan whispers in his ears, "I'm waiting," before he walks out of the bathroom.
Wei Ying looks down at the beautiful ring resting on his finger.
Cartier D'amour platinum band with a grain-sized ruby studded in the center surrounded by a tiny circle of diamonds. It is perfect – simple, elegant, and just the right amount of ornate, much like a blend of him and Lan Zhan. Rotating the ring, he feels a texture beneath.
On the inner side, there's a date engraved.
It's a date neither of them celebrates, simply because they have more important ones. Mianmian's birthday date. The date that marks the beginning of their story – of the joy it comes with, the pain it entails, and the love it sings of.
A fairytale.
One that began many winters ago.
In the month of October.