Archive of Our Own

Lan Zhan shoulders his equipment bag and makes his way down to the Cold Springs. The beautiful, serene landscape of his ancestral home in Gusu is transformed from the peaceful meditation spot he visits often into a hellscape of people, tents, and electronics.

This is a terrible idea.

As per usual when something is a terrible idea, it is also Nie Huiasang's fault.

He pitched the idea to Lan Xichen first, who is so very easily manipulated, and now Lan Zhan is here, watching as his beloved Cold Springs are invaded by of all things, a television show.

A reality television show.

For aspiring models, he has learned.

He tried to refuse but it was, as Nie Huiasang put it, "a package deal." Not only did the production company want the privilege of shooting in the springs, but they also wanted the world-renowned photographer Lan Zhan to do the photography.

He is a not a fashion photographer. He is known for his wildlife photography, his landscapes, and his occasional portrait work.

He is an artist, whose work has been displayed in galleries around the world. He maintains his own website to sell his prints and limits each printing, every one individually signed and hand-numbered and he makes a good living and does not need this job for exposure or cash.

But Lan Xichen is convinced the television show will reach a new audience who isn't familiar with the Cloud Recesses Historical Foundation and their efforts to maintain and preserve ancient artifacts and buildings. He thinks they will raise more money for the foundation with this ridiculous photo shoot and Lan Zhan loves his brother.

He could have held an auction and done a limited print run of his most well known photographs and raised far more money than this will, he is sure, but Lan Xichen is easily swayed and, as previously mentioned, Lan Zhan loves his brother.

His assistant, Lan Jingyi, bounces on his feet with excitement beside him. He supposes this might be exciting for someone like Jingyi. Perhaps the boy hopes to meet a model.

The production supervisor walks him through the plan for the day. The models will be in swimsuits, ill-advised due to the ambient temperature and the fact that the cold springs are very aptly named.

"We're going for a ice princess siren theme," the creative director tells him. "The model is luring in young men who are willing to drown themselves just for the chance of being with her."

This sounds quite far fetched and not a little bit ridiculous to Lan Zhan.

"So we have the water polo team from Gusu Aquatic Center here to serve as background, it's good practice for the models to learn how to pose with others and still stand out."

Oh. Well. Now Lan Zhan is slightly intrigued.

And he grows even more intrigued as the models begin to arrive. The women are very thin, very fragile looking, and they are all wrapped in large puffy coats. Their hair and makeup is extreme, with drastic white eyeliner and fake icicles in their hair. The whole concept is ludicrous in Lan Zhan's opinion.

What is not ludicrous is the water polo team. They arrive in athletic gear, soft gray sweatpants and a hoodie with the Gusu Aquatic Club log on the chest. They begin stripping, unbothered, clearly accustomed to being around each other in no more than speedos.

One of them has longer hair than the rest, he is boisterous and exuberant, he laughs with a full throated laugh that carries across the quiet morning.

He is irritatingly, distractingly, beautiful.

They are ready to begin, the creative director doesn't want to lose the morning light.

The first model steps forward and the beautiful man holds her coat for her and helps her shrug it off, even though there are plenty of production assistants around who can perform that duty.

They all head into the water, the model shrieking at the temperature. She is not submerged, but seated on a rocky outcrop. Five of the water polo players do slip into the water, swimming easily and confidently. The distractingly beautiful one makes a startled yelp at the temperatue and is immediately teased by his teammates.

"I'm not made for this!" he calls out. "I'm a delicate lotus flower from the south!" He laughs at his own statement, the sound echoing across the quiet early morning.

Lan Zhan wants to bite him and make him yelp like that again. The realization that he wants to do this comes over him without warning, like a semi truck barrelling through an intersection.

He has spent the entirety of his adult life focusing on his art and his study of his art and his meditation about his art and teaching himself how to run a website so he can make a living on his art. It has left little time for biting distractingly beautiful men, but as of this moment, there is nothing in the world he wants to do more than bite that distractingly beautiful man.

This shoot may be problematic for multiple reasons.

The man glides through the water, making his way over to the model, and assures her that even if she falls into the water, he will catch her and keep her safe.

Then it is time for Lan Zhan to go to work.

He does put some effort into directing the shoot, even though this is not his preferred type of photography, he wants to do his best.

Jingyi takes his directions and runs back and forth from his side to the creative director, giving every little nuanced suggestion.

Turn a bit to the right. Tilt the chin down, arch your back a bit more so you look less slumped.

They change poses, trying to get a variety of shots. Lan Zhan finds his eye slipping to the men in the water, each of which is turned toward her, faces only in profile. They are not the focus of the shoot, he knows.

But to him, they should be. Or, one of them should be.

The creative director has the shots he wants. "Ten frames left," he says to Lan Zhan. "Do what you want."

Lan Zhan turns to Jingyi and gives his instruction.

In the next series of shots, the distractingly beautiful man is half out of the water, long line of his muscular back bare to Lan Zhan's lens. The model has a finger under his chin, tilting him toward her just so. It's seductive, it's enticing, it's making Lan Zhan go a little mad with the burning desire to be the one touching him, not her.

He shoots his remaining ten frames and then the model changes. This time, new poses, inspired by Lan Zhan's suggestion perhaps, the creative director has the men in the water do more than simply stand around and looking.

The distractingly beautiful man (Lan Zhan really needs to learn his name, so he can quit calling him that in his head) stays, but other players rotate out.

Lan Zhan is too relieved to be concerned about this, he did not want to shoot a scene without him in it.

The man should be a model himself, he is far more captivating than the woman who is supposed to be the center of attention. He possesses a casual sensuality, like he knows he is incredibly sexy but just doesn't think it is all that important.

The final ten shots of this session involve the model, who is wearing high heels (ridiculous, no one swims in high heels) pretending to push the distractingly beautiful man away with a simulated kick.

It's ridiculous and it would never be used in any swimwear ad in the world, but Lan Zhan relishes in the chance to give the distractingly beautiful man direction as to the angle he should hold his extended neck, the delicate skin stretched taut and so, so rife for Lan Zhan to suck a mark there.

The next model shoot culminates in Lan Zhan's most inspired pose idea, because in this one he gets to see the distractingly beautiful man's face through his lens. He has the model seated, and puts the distractingly beautiful man behind her, and has him hook his head over her shoulder.

"Stare at me," Lan Zhan says. "Let your eyes go glassy, like you're under a spell."

The man obeys, beautifully. His eyes go blank and glassy and Lan Zhan has to suppress a shiver.

By the time the last model is done, Lan Zhan has put the distractingly beautiful man into as many distractingly beautiful poses as he can think up and shamelessly used the models as a proxy for what he himself wants to do.

It is highly unethical, but he cannot make himself regret it.

The creative director looks through the digital image files and turns to him with a raised eyebrow.

"Anytime you want to shoot high dollar still pornography, call me. You have one hell of an eye."

Everyone is packing up equipment and getting ready to leave and Lan Zhan is standing still while Jingyi carefully takes his camera from him. He wonders if since he has already trampled on his sense of ethics so egregiously today, should he not go one step further and ask the distractingly beautiful man what his name is ?

In the end, he doesn't have to.

The water polo players are all gathered around and joking and laughing. They're shivering, which makes sense, given the temperature of the Cold Springs this time of year.

One bumps his shoulder against the distractingly beautiful man and says: "Wei Ying, you up for some drinks in Caiyi?"

Lan Zhan cannot savor the joy of finally being able to think of the distractingly beautiful man as something other than "the distractingly beautiful man" for long, because Wei Ying blinks slowly and looks at his teammate and just says: "Huh?"

And that is when Lan Zhan notices that yes, all of the water polo players are shivering.

Yet Wei Ying isn't.

Lan Zhan moves as quickly as he can remember moving. He grabs one of the emergency blankets that were at the medical tent and wraps it around Wei Ying's shoulders. He guides him toward his car, grateful that today he drove, rather than walking to the Cold Springs as he normally does. His camera equipment, the reason why he drove rather than walked, is forgotten.

Wei Ying goes with him without protest. Lan Zhan secures him in the front seat of his car, then slides behind the steering wheel. He turns on the heater and the heated seats but he knows it will do little, he does not intend to be in the car long enough for it to heat up enough to make an appreciable difference. Still, any amount of warmth is better than nothing.

He pulls in front of the Jingshi and helps Wei Ying out of the car.

He has started shivering, violently.

That's good. It means his body is attempting to warm itself again.

"Wh..wh…what's happen…appe..ning?" he manages to articulate the question through his chattering teeth.

"You are dangerously hypothermic,' Lan Zhan says.

Wei Ying nods at him, and he seems to be slightly more coherent. Lan Zhan had planned to call emergency services and have him transported to the hospital if he continued to be confused. But with him able to speak, and understand, and his body shivering once more, then he can be slowly warmed without the need for heated IV fluids.

The first thing that needs to happen is Wei Ying needs to be dry.

Lan Zhan guides him to his bathroom. When this home belonged to his mother, several luxury upgrades were installed to keep her comfortable during her protacted illness that led to her early death.

One of those is a towel warmer, which Lan Zhan shamelessly makes use of. He opens it, and takes out a heated towel.

Wei Ying hisses when he touches him but he does not pull away. Lan Zhan rubs the towel over him, concentrating on his wet hair. He will need to get that dry as soon as possible, much heat is lost through the head. He winds up wrapping another towel around Wei Ying's torso and instructing him to hold it there while retrieves his hair dryer and plugs it in.

Lan Zhan dries his hair with brutal efficiency, not caring at all how it looks, just focusing on chasing ever molecule of moisture away. Wei Ying continues shivering, but he doesn't speak. Just makes noises, every now and then, hitched breaths as he tries to regulate his breathing through his chattering teeth.

The only part of Wei Ying's body that is still damp is what is concealed beneath the swim suit he wears. Lan Zhan hesitates for a moment, after he puts the dryer away, but Wei Ying seems to understand what is needed. Wei Ying strips un self-consciously, or attempts too. His balance is affected, and he sways dangerously when he tries to get the wet speedo off. Lan Zhan drops to his knees, thinking nothing of it, and peels the wet fabric away from his body.

His fear for Wei Ying's well being shunts all other thoughts away. A brief flash of emotion makes his ears blush, but he banishes it, knowing that things are still delicate with this degree of hypothermia.

"I..I..uh feel like I'm…uh..miss…missing a chance…to..uh..say…something…flirty here…" Wei Ying stumbles over the words but Lan Zhan quickly shakes his head.

"Do not attempt to talk."

Next up is clothing. Lan Zhan guides him to his bedroom, and assists him in dressing in clothes from Lan Zhan's wardrobe. Boxer briefs. Sweatpants. Long sleeve t-shirt. Loungewear that Lan Zhan puts on when he needs to feel comfortable. Natural fibers, because he owns nothing else.

Once Wei Ying is seated on the couch, Lan Zhan wraps another heated towel around his torso, following it up with a blanket that he keeps on the back of the couch. The man hisses.

"Do..do…you have one for my hands? They hurt."

Lan Zhan shakes his head. "You need to warm your core first." Warming the extremities too quickly will shunt blood away from vital organs. The rewarming of a hypothermic person needs to be done slowly, and cautiously.

Lan Zhan leaves him on the sofa and fetches a thermometer from his first aid kit.

Wei Ying looks even more alert when he takes his temperature. "What is it?" he asks.

"33 degrees," Lan Zhan says. "Hypothermic, but not enough to need hospitalization."

"Good," Wei Ying says. "I have practice tomorrow."

Lan Zhan doubts that. After such a severe bout of hypothermia, he should not enter a pool for a few days. But he does not say anything.

Over the next hour, Lan Zhan rotates the towels from the towel warmer to Wei Ying's torso. He checks his temperature again, and finds gratifyingly, that his temperature has climbed up two degrees to 35.

A cautious knock at the door heralds the arrival of Lan Jingyi, bringing not only Lan Zhan's camera and equipment bag but also Wei Ying's clothing, cell phone, and a message from his worried teammates.

He has enough motor control to type out a quick response to them, before putting the phone down and leaning his head back.

"A nap is not advised, your body's temperature naturally drops during the sleep cycle ,"Lan Zhan sits down in a chair across from him and tells him this.

Wei Ying yawns, spectacularly. "Then keep me awake, Gege."

And so, for the next hour, Lan Zhan talks to him.

He is not the world's best conversationalist, but Wei Ying makes it easy. He asks his name first, ("So I don't have to keep calling you the hot photographer in my head"). Over the course of the hour Lan Zhan learns that Wei Ying is an orphan, who was taken in by a family in Yunmeng and raised alongside their two children. The Jiangs, who raised him, own an aquatics center and he grew up alongside his adopted brother and sister as a competitive swimmer.

"Why water polo, now?" Lan Zhan asks him.

"Ah, well, you see, I kept finishing first in races."

He gives a wry, almost sad smile when he says this, and Lan Zhan doesn't press. He's learned, even in this short time, that if he just waits, Wei Ying will fill the gaps in the conversation.

"I found just swimming boring anyway. Freestyle was always my best stroke, and I like the team aspect of water polo."

Wei Ying deftly switches the conversation to him, and soon, Lan Zhan finds himself disclosing things about himself he never told anyone before. Like what his favorite thing to shoot was (wild rabbits), why he fell in love with photography (the magic of capturing an emotion with an image) and why he got involved in a reality show of all things (to appease his brother.)

"Well, as for me," Wei Ying says, as he stretches and the shirt he's wearing slips up, exposing a sliver of tan skin. When he settles it slips off his shoulder and exposes a bit of collarbone. It's because the shirt is too big, because it's Lan Zhan's. Once more, the image of biting him, just there where the bone shifts under the skin, surges to his mind.

He thinks, for a moment, that it might actually be possible for people to spontaneously self-combust. Or at least their ears. He has an insane moment of wondering what exactly he would look like if his ears combusted off of his head entirely.

"I did it because they offered the water polo club some money and it would help pay for our travel to our next competition. I didn't expect you guys to have a literal ice bath up here, though."

"You should have rotated out, like the others, especially when you got too cold," Lan Zhan says.

Wei Ying looks at him with a crooked smile and his eyes so very wide and dark and says: "Ah, but then, Gege, I wouldn't have your eyes on me. I was so enjoying having you look at me."

Is he flirting with me? Lan Zhan thinks.

"He's trying to," Wei Ying says. "And he thinks it's really cute you said that thought out loud."

Lan Zhan bolts to his feet, face burning as hot as his ears. "I'm going to make tea."

Wei Ying's laughter follows him to his kitchen, where he suddenly forgets the process of putting water on to boil for tea.

He manages to figure it out and brings Wei Ying a cup of tea. He returns to the kitchen to make some broth, and gets Wei Ying to drink some soup.

His temperature is closely approaching the low end of a normal range and the shivering has all but stopped.

Wei Ying takes his phone and makes some calls and sends some texts and Lan Zhan tries to give him some privacy. He hears enough of the one-sided conversation to know that Wei Ying called his sister and reassured her he was fine, and also talked to someone about re scheduling classes he was supposed to teach, so presumably a boss.

Lan Zhan feels safe enough after Wei Ying has eaten to let him sleep and the man instantly rolls over, wraps the blanket tight around him, and falls asleep on the couch.

Once that happens, Lan Zhan can only feel regret. He should have helped him to the bed instead.

Lan Zhan takes the opportunity while he sleeps to check his messages. He has multiple messages from his brother which he gives a cursory glance to. One from a gallery owner who wants to book a show. And some emails to respond to.

Wei Ying sleeps for three hours.

Lan Zhan checks on him often, ensuring he stays warm but not so warm that he begins to sweat.

He's beautiful as he sleeps. He's beautiful all the time, and Lan Zhan might just have to die about it.

Lan Zhan should figure out how to get him home. He doesn't know where he lives, but the Gusu Aquatic Center is about a 20 minute drive from here. Wei Ying will need a ride, the water polo team arrived in a large passenger van which has since left.

The sun has gone down on what turned out to be an extremely long day when Wei Ying uncoils himself from the blanket, stretches, and looks over at Lan Zhan with a sleepy smile.

"So it wasn't a dream," he says. "I thought it had to be, no way a beautiful man just swept in and saved my life after eye-fucking me through a camera lens for hours."

"Ridiculous," Lan Zhan mumbles, and Wei Ying laughs.

He rises, stretches once more, and walks to the bathroom. Lan Zhan's sweatpants are too big, and are dangerously low on his hips.

Lan Zhan makes dinner for them, a simple vegetble stir fry that he hopes won't put too much strain on Wei Ying's system. He encourages him to eat sparingly, and ignores the man's persistent request for chili oil.

"So what now?" Wei Ying asks.

"I can drive you home," Lan Zhan says. He doesn't attempt to keep the reluctance out of his voice.

"Or…." Wei Ying draws the word out, and quirks an eyebrow. It's suggestive, it's flirty, and Lan Zhan is definitely going to die, here in his own house. He imagine it will be his brother who finds him, or perhaps Jingyi. Either way, he regrets the trauma it will cause. Perhaps he should leave a note, so they know he died happy.

Wei Ying gets up from his chair and moves into Lan Zhan's space. He's close to him, so very close. Lan Zhan can smell the crispness of the Cold Springs on his skin. Wei Ying will need a shower, like this he smells a little wild, like something untameable.

Lan Zhan inhales sharply as Wei Ying slides onto his lap and hooks his arms around Lan Zhan's neck.

"I could go home tomorrow instead."

Lan Zhan kisses him.

It's heady, fierce, from the start. Wei Ying throws himself into kissing the way he talks, the way he moves, with complete abandon.

His lips are still too cold.

The thought is there, but Lan Zhan dismisses it immediately. Wei Ying may still be too cool, but Lan Zhan is burning hot and he will share that heat with him.

Somehow they get up from the table, somehow they move through the house to the bedroom. Wei Ying's laughter sings out in the empty, silent room that for so long had been a place for Lan Zhan alone. Now he is pressing Wei Ying down into the mattress, covering him with his body.

Clothes are shed, there are soft groans as he wraps his hand around them both, Wei Ying arches, and squirms and curses.

"Fuck, yes, that's it, you're so hot, like that, fuck, fuck, don't stop…"

Lan Zhan doesn't stop, he brings him to completion and follows him over as Wei Ying laughs. He catalogs it, saving it away. Wei Ying laughs when he flirts, he laughs when he swims, he laughs as he's teased, and he laughs as he comes. Lan Zhan wants to know all of his laughs, wants to make a note of every single one.

He moves reluctantly off of him so he can commence with cleanup because Wei Ying doesn't need to have anything on his body to cool him down and Lan Zhan doesn't want him to take a shower just yet. Perhaps by morning.

Wei Ying stretches and makes grabby hands at him when he's finished wiping him down and Lan Zhan slips into the bed with him.

"You need to dress," Lan Zhan murmurs as he presses his lips against Wei Ying's skin. "You should be wearing something."

"I'll wear you," Wei Ying says, sleepily.

Lan Zhan wants to protest, wants to insist that Wei Ying not take chances with his recovery, but the temptation is too strong, and he pulls Wei Ying close to him and wraps around him as tightly as he can.

"Mmmmm….this is nice," Wei Ying says softly.

It is. Lan Zhan cannot think, at the moment, of anything that would be nicer.

Perhaps if Wei Ying had a couple of bite marks and bruises, that bloomed on his lovely tan skin.

Maybe another time. After they talked about it more.

Lan Zhan is already thinking of another time. He is hoping, in fact, for many more times. He doesn't know if that is something Wei Ying wants however. This might just be a fun little diversion for him, something to pass the time, and he plans to leave tomorrow and never see Lan Zhan again.

In his arms, Wei Ying shifts, and turns over so they're face to face in the dark. Wei Ying leans forward, and finds his lips, giving him a firm press before pulling back and saying: "Are you all right? You got all stiff and still for a second."

"I…I don't…" Lan Zhan tries to speak, but he can't seem to. The darkness should give him courage, but Wei Ying is so close, their legs are feet are entangled, Lan Zhan can feel his breath against his cheek. He wants to pull away and hide but he forces himself to stay still. Wei Ying needs him close, needs the warmth.

"Don't what?" Wei Ying's voice is soft, gentle. No trace of laughter in it now. But it's still kind.

He runs his hand along Lan Zhan's bare back, soothing him.

"Don't do this a lot?" he guesses.

Lan Zhan shakes his head. Or ever, he thinks but can't say out loud.

"Me neither," Wei Ying says. "In fact, I haven't ever done this. Well, I mean, I've, you know, but like, with another person? First time."

Lan Zhan holds his breath. He gives Wei Ying space to talk. Puts his trust in the fact that he will not hurt him.

Wei Ying kisses him again, and they get lost in it for a bit, the press of lips, the dizzying feel of skin on skin.

The break apart before things escalate to a point that another clean up might be needed.

"You need rest," Lan Zhan says.

Wei Ying sighs. "I suppose."

"But tomorrow, before I go home, we are ticking off some more firsts. I wanna blow you, that's one for sure. And if you're into it, I want to take marks back with me so all the guys can see. A hickey or two, a bite, I want every one of them to know that the hot photographer warmed me up and then rocked my world. And then I want to take you out to dinner, you know, as a thank you for saving my life and all. And then, we'll come back here and —-"

Lan Zhan shuts him up with another kiss before he does actually perish right here in his bed.

"Yes, to all of it," he says.

Wei Ying laughs once more, and Lan Zhan mentally catalogs this one as: Wei Ying is happy.

It is quite possibly the most beautiful sound he's ever heard.