Chapter Text
How to be a heartbreaker?
Young, twenty-five, and thriving. Wei Ying once held the world in the palm of his hand, but all of that vanished overnight when the Jiangs fell from grace. Nights of attending endless social parties and excessive gala events soon turned into long days of despair, now filled with bouts of desperate attempts to keep the roof over his and his siblings’ heads for just one—more—day.
Even if Wei Ying ever knew romantic love (which he did not), it had since ceased to exist in Wei Ying’s dictionary. The only love that he could concern himself with was the familial kind, the kind which had his sister holding his head in her lap as he cried himself to sleep every night, the kind which had his brother pressing his lips to his head when he thought Wei Ying had long drifted off, unconscious. Jiang Cheng had never been an affectionate person, much less to him, but the circumstances of their situation had pushed them together, metaphorically and literally, into a tiny one-bedroom studio apartment, so much such that any boundaries they might have held before between them could no longer hold.
Jiejie took up work as a seamstress’ assistant in the tailor shop downstairs, while Jiang Cheng started doing food deliveries, working from seven in the morning till often past midnight. He hardly ever saw his brother anymore, and only ever felt him through the ghosting of his calloused fingers through his hair, and sparse cash envelopes left next to his bedside; tucked full with dollar bills that made up yesterday’s delivery tips.
Everyone was doing what they could to make ends meet, and Wei Ying was no exception. He’d started off with simple waitering work at an up-scale restaurant, but his hot temper had been a horrible match with the amount of affluent—and hence very entitled—customers that patronised the restaurant. Wei Ying knows this is only karma. He once stood tall like them, all high and mighty. Sure, he hadn’t ever been rude to those that didn’t deserve it, but he hadn’t batted an extra eyelash at anyone else who deserved it, either. He’d been happy to live in his bubble, where Jiang shushu took him in as his own and set him up for a good life to be his only heir’s right-hand man. Wei Ying had spent so many nights thoughtlessly partying with the rich, enjoying what he had thought would be never-ending wealth, and giving little care to anything else.
This was his karma.
He got fired two weeks in. He wasn’t cut out for the work. It’d been humiliating giving back his uniform and collecting his measly pay-check—Jiejie and Jiang Cheng were both working so hard, and Wei Ying couldn’t even keep his mouth shut and keep a job. He didn’t know what else he could do; he was intelligent, yes, but he knew his options were greatly limited. No respectable corporation would take in the Jiangs, for now, and Wei Ying couldn’t see himself surviving in any other type of job that would have him be in servitude of someone else. He’d resigned himself to going home and shamefully confessing to his siblings that he had lost his job because he was just that incompetent—and Jiejie would tell him no, it wasn’t, Xianxian could do no wrong and Jiang Cheng would even spare him a lecture this time and tell him, quietly, to just try again, I’ll cover the bills for this month—
That was when Wei Ying felt a large hand on his back, just as he was stumbling out of the restaurant in his shabby jeans and T-shirt, pay-check crumpled angrily in his hand.
“What are you—”
Wei Ying didn’t even get a word in before an older man pressed a name card into his hands. By the looks of it, he was a wealthy patron whose table Wei Ying had served earlier, a lone businessman that had been eating alone, and one that had—without his knowledge, no doubt—been keeping an close eye on him throughout the entire duration of his meal.
“You are very pretty,” the man had complimented. It stirred up… something within Wei Ying. He just couldn’t tell what, at this point. “If you do not mind keeping me some company, I will take good care of you.”
Wei Ying had immediately protested, almost spitting into his face. “I am not a prostitute.”
To his confusion, the older man visibly recoiled, as if offended at the insinuation. “Men like me do not pay for sex.” He leaves the words ruminating within Wei Ying’s perplexed mind.
“Call me if you are interested.”
It took Wei Ying a while to get it; and when he did, he couldn’t believe it. There were men out there who were willing to pay for purely companionship, men who wanted pretty young things to talk to and have dinner with every now and then, men who wanted to feel good for being able to take care, financially, of those in need… like Wei Ying.
Wei Ying was—is—attractive. He knows this. He’d grown up with money, the Jiang’s money, but money nevertheless. He grew up knowing how to take care of his skin, how to dress himself well, and how to carry himself in the most flattering manner possible. Wei Ying knew all the right things to say, all the different ways to flirt, all the fleeting touches he needed to give—all just to worm himself into the good graces of whomever was his target. Most importantly? He knew the in’s and out’s of their world. Men that had millions in net worth didn’t only want pretty things; they wanted someone who appreciated their interests, the issues they talked about, the things that engaged their minds and effectively, their heart. Wei Ying was the whole package. He could be incredibly vapid if they wanted him to be, serving up to them someone they needed to actively coddle and spoil; but he could also indulge them as they talked about their problems at work, soothe their worries, and provide them an understanding that they couldn’t find anywhere else.
And so when Wei Ying called up that man that very night, it’d set him down a path he’d never expected to go down.
But damn if Wei Ying wasn’t good at it.
Rule number one, of course, is that you’ve got to have fun.
If Nie Huaisang tells you to do something, you do it. Wei Ying has long given in to his best friend’s shenanigans and accepted that Nie Huaisang is, often enough, always right. The fact that he hadn’t up and left him or severed ties with the Jiangs, like so many others, already proved good enough as a testimony to his loyalty to Wei Ying. He knows Nie Mingjue disapproves of Nie Huaisang’s close associations with the Jiangs still, but it’s the least he can do for a family that has since lost everything. Nie Mingjue can’t argue against his younger brother’s kindness in maintaining some semblance of friendship ties with Wei Ying.
Tonight, Nie Huaisang tells Wei Ying there’s big fish to catch at this party. Nie Mingjue is hosting their yearly gala event, one that commemorates the 100th year the Nies have been in business, and everyone worth at least a dime in their inner circles has been invited. Well, not a dime—a quick look around this event hall easily tells Wei Ying that no one worth less than a million has been invited to socialise within these walls. No one… except Wei Ying. He should feel embarrassed, really, to be returning to high society with nothing to his name.
But an entire year’s worth of being nothing but arm candy to well-to-do, older men have thickened his skin, and Wei Ying has said and done so many things that nothing really makes him uneasy, anymore. He knows he’s virtually unrecognisable, anyway. Much has changed to his appearance ever since he’d undertaken the role of a sugar baby. He now knows what the lustful male gaze wants. He now knows what the average, hot-blooded man likes.
He knows they look at his eyes, with his long dark lashes, and his sultrily lined cat eyes and his blood-red lipstick, and the way he curves his lips up wide and breaks into soft laughter, showing off his gleaming, white teeth.
He knows he catches men’s attention, sweeping into the room like he owns it, in a flurry of long, red silk, tied tightly with a thin ribbon around his small waist, accentuating all the curves he’d needed to accentuate. He’s slender, and he’s thin, and every time he brings his hands up he knows they look at his tiny wrists. He knows they think about how easily it’d be to break him, to manhandle him.
His hair no longer gets cut; he keeps it long, dark and in tresses, flowing down his back. He braids them sometimes, particularly if his companions take him out for a more classy event, but today he has opted to leave them in his usual half-ponytail, tied with his signature red ribbon. He knows it only makes them think about pulling it loose.
Wei Ying might have built up a steady base of clientele over the past year, but wealthy men are flighty, and they either get too nervous or they relocate quick. Wei Ying always needs to meet new people, always needs to charm more men, and Nie Huaisang has been so generous in pointing him to all the places he needs to go to. Nie Huaisang has never explicitly expressed support for these endeavours, but there’s a silent understanding that Wei Ying does what he must to keep his family afloat, and so Nie Huaisang does what he can in his capacity to help his best friend out.
It’s the same with Jiejie and Jiang Cheng—they have since discovered Wei Ying’s true occupation, after months of bouts of lies about working double-shifts at the restaurant to be raking in so much money at one go; and they had strongly disapproved at first, Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying getting into the biggest screaming match of their lives before Jiejie finally ended it by collapsing to the floor in distress—but they accept it, now, after Wei Ying explains that he doesn’t do anything he’s not comfortable with, and that the nature and expenditure of his clients meant that they valued quality over meaningless sex. Wei Ying has come close to many dangerous situations, but he has always been able to find his way out. There are precautionary measures after all, like always texting Jiang Cheng within the span of two hours, or utilising the sharp pins tucked within his hair for self-defence.
In the end, the money Wei Ying was raking in from sugar dating meant that Jiang Cheng could go back to working normal hours and having dinner with his family again, and that priority preceded anything else. They were able to move out from their cramped studio apartment in the slums, and into a modest three bedroom one in a safer area, which heavily bettered the quality of their lives.
Wei Ying wanders around the hall mindlessly right after he enters, making his first pit stop the buffet table. There are throngs of people standing around in their own groups, intermingling and socialising with wine glasses in their hands, and waiters moving about listlessly to stop them and offer more dessert and drinks. Wei Ying knows he should be assimilating himself into those circles already, but he’s hungry, and he’d starved himself the entire day just to fit into these robes. He always tries to make himself appear as small as he can, knowing it’s what these men like, but god, Wei Ying is utterly famished.
He grabs for the glass of champagne off the counter, and his hands greedily reach for the first cupcake he sees. He knows he should be eating better. There are rice and noodles to the side, but Wei Ying doesn’t care for a proper dinner tonight. In any case, Jiejie always prepares him a pot of lotus root pork ribs soup for when he gets back from these things. He’ll enjoy indulging himself in sugary pastries tonight, thank you very much.
He’s so hungry, he’s practically moaning as he swallows the first bite of the red velvet cupcake and feels it sliding down his throat. If Wei Ying had only been a bit more attentive, he’d have noticed piercing golden eyes recognise him from right across the room—from the very minute he had entered. He’d also have noticed the footsteps brisk walking towards him, only coming to a gentle halt right behind his back. Noticed the sharp stagger of breath that got released, and the hand that reached hungrily for his shoulder, only to fall back, unsure. And a voice that only spoke with utmost certainty, heavily layered in a type of yearning that really should already have been beyond telling.
“Wei Ying.”
Wei Ying doesn’t turn. Not immediately. He doesn’t even stop to contemplate the familiarity of the voice, either, but it’s not like Wei Ying has the regular habit of contemplating anything. He waits until the last of the cupcake glides down his throat, and then he licks his lips clean. He readies himself internally for confrontation, and then spins around to meet the person who has called for him. There really shouldn’t be many people in this room who know that he is here, besides Nie Huaisang and his older brother. But stepping back into familiar territory will always carry with it its risks, and Wei Ying has more than prepared himself for being harassed by enemies of the Jiangs.
“Oh,” is the first thing that escapes him, when he registers the other’s face. The name floats into his mind like a lullaby from his childhood. “Lan Zhan.”
Lan Zhan is an old friend. Wei Ying’s not even sure if they’re friend friends. But they had gone to private school together, and Wei Ying had spent a couple of years incessantly annoying Lan Zhan until they graduated and Lan Zhan was sent abroad to study. The Jiangs may be rich, but the Lans have always been on a whole other level with their old money. Wei Ying briefly remembers saying a bittersweet goodbye to Lan Zhan before he left at the tender age of eighteen, but he doesn’t remember the specifics, only that he’d shed a tear or two at his departure. Wei Ying doesn’t remember much from before, anyway. Everything that happened before the Jiangs fell now always feels so miniscule in comparison.
Wei Ying reminds himself to smile. Lan Zhan is back. It’s a good thing. “You’re back!”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan utters, the side of his mouth inching just a tad bit up in what Wei Ying knows is his own version of a smile.
He’s taller now. How on earth did he still grow after the age of eighteen? He stands just a half-foot taller, but he’s taller nonetheless. And now that Wei Ying no longer eats as much, he’s instantly dwarfed in size in comparison. Lan Zhan’s shoulders have clearly broadened, his well-tailored black suit showing off his older, masculine built, and his jaw has become much more chiseled, much more defined. He has lost what little baby fat he had, and his sharp features now jut out prominently on his well-sculpted face. He keeps his dark brown hair short too, perfectly coiffed and sprayed into place. He was good-looking as a teen, but now… now he has become devastatingly handsome as a man. Wei Ying already sees the longing stares, hears the excited whispers amongst the crowd in the back, and he smiles it off. It’s to be expected. To be the second heir in line to the Lan’s highly coveted business and be extremely attractive at the same time? Wei Ying can’t imagine the amount of attention Lan Zhan must get on a daily basis.
Even so, some things never change. Wei Ying would recognise those plump pink lips anywhere, and that elegantly straight nose. Lan Zhan still keeps his expression stoic, too, his eyes dead. His gaze is forever piercing, however, and so, so intense. Wei Ying always remembered shrinking underneath Lan Zhan’s fierce gazes, wondering if it was just him that Lan Zhan directed these excruciating looks at. Wei Ying had always felt so seen by the other, like Lan Zhan could just tell the exact thing running through his mind, and know that Wei Ying had something pulled up his sleeve for their next class together. Wei Ying suddenly remembers the many times he’d been sent to detention because of Lan Zhan’s meddling, and he laughs softly to himself. Lan Zhan ended up having to attend every session with him too, as the teacher’s aide, and so it wasn’t like he got off scot-free either.
“When did you get back from America?” Wei Ying asks, picking up another glass of champagne. He is on a mission tonight, but it’s not like he can’t make some small talk with an old friend he hasn’t seen in years. The fact that Lan Zhan approached him out of his own volition would mean that he didn’t mind associating himself with Wei Ying despite what had happened to the Jiangs, and so Wei Ying will grant him a conversation, at least.
“Yesterday night,” Lan Zhan answers, promptly.
Wei Ying almost spits out his drink. Now he’s not so sure if Lan Zhan is well caught up on the inner gossip of their world, and if he’s truly oblivious to the social repercussions of associating himself with Wei Ying.
“Well, then you must have plenty of other people to talk to,” Wei Ying averts his gaze, trying, valiantly, to usher his old friend elsewhere. If Lan Zhan isn’t in the know, then he can’t subject Lan Zhan to being involved in crude gossip with the Jiangs. “You don’t have to concern yourself with little old me.”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan calls again, this time more urgently, like he’s afraid Wei Ying will step away—and step out of his life forever. He pulls at Wei Ying’s wrist, tugging it for measure. “Wei Ying, I know.”
Wei Ying flashes him a hot look. “You know what?”
“Your family,” Lan Zhan whispers. There’s horror in his eyes, as if he can’t believe the things that have befallen the shorter man. Wei Ying can’t bear a second look. “Wei Ying, it doesn’t matter. I was going to call you as soon as I could, regardless. I didn’t expect…”
He didn’t expect Wei Ying to turn up to this event and still show his face to everyone, after all that transpired a year ago.
Wei Ying relaxes in his hold. If Lan Zhan knows and he accepts him, then Wei Ying has nothing to worry about. He’s frankly tired of always being on the defence, always fighting and yelling and punching and screaming and running away from people who he knows can’t help but feel sorry for his plight. It’s alright for people to pity them, honestly. Wei Ying is used to it. His intentions for coming tonight weren’t even pure in the first place, and so Wei Ying doesn’t think he deserves to be on any moral high ground at all. If Lan Zhan wants to express his condolences, Wei Ying will take it.
But nothing more.
“Lan er gege,” Wei Ying sings out an old nickname, his lips curving up into a well-rehearsed smile. It’s adorable, and it’s pretty, and he knows it mesmerises anyone who lays their eyes on him. He has done it a million times—bewitching and convincing men who need to be convinced.
He does it only as a distraction, to keep away from the topic of his family altogether, and move on to something else.
He just doesn’t expect to hear the hitch in Lan Zhan’s breath, too, and feel the taller man’s grasp around his wrist tightening.
He fell for it.
A sickening thought suddenly enters his brain, and Wei Ying wonders if he should be so cruel.
“Do you want to find a private space for us to catch up, Lan Zhan?”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan nods. His eyes are still fixated upon Wei Ying’s lips, and his ever-beaming smile.
For some reason, Lan Zhan never eases up his grip around Wei Ying’s wrist, and Wei Ying… just lets him. Is there any point in refusing the other man? He has never seen him this assertive, and Wei Ying would be lying if he said it wasn’t making him look at Lan Zhan in a whole new—very attractive—light. He lets Lan Zhan lead the way in finding an ideal spot around here for them to converse, and they end up on one of the many balconies that extends from the hall. There are curtains that separate the balcony from the rest of the floor, giving it the illusion of a separate room altogether where lovers can convene in secret. Or, well, business partners partaking in shady deals. Lan Zhan takes care to draw the curtains close, ensuring that no one will be able to interrupt their time together. Wei Ying… almost feels flattered. Lan Zhan is clearly putting a lot of thought into this, but Wei Ying doesn’t expect anything less from the man. He has always been so meticulous, so disciplined, so well-organised. Nothing Lan Zhan does is ever short of perfection.
The balcony gives them a whiff of fresh air that they had been missing back in the constraints of the event hall. Wei Ying walks further out on the balcony, which overlooks the busy city streets and the luminous night sky. It has been a long while since Wei Ying even had time to appreciate such a view; he has spent so many of these nights trapped in expensive restaurants having dinners with men whose faces he forgot after a month or two. The nights he gets off, he spends with Jiejie and Jiang Cheng in the comfort of their living room, playing board games and catching up on the latest film on Netflix together. They are his only pockets of happiness that he gets to revel in, these days.
Wei Ying quickly remembers Lan Zhan is still loitering behind him, and breaks himself out of his reverie.
“Lan Zhaan,” he beckons in a soft purr, a grin on his face. He wonders how he looks to him. He knows that men like the way Wei Ying calls for them, with dark wisps of hair framing his face rather femininely, and his lips pursed in an ever-stationary pout. He knows they are weak to the softness of his gaze, and the way he makes himself small for them.
But Lan Zhan has known him from young. Lan Zhan remembers his rambunctious days, and a less calculative Wei Ying that doesn’t have to take care of every move he makes. He wonders if Lan Zhan can see through him like always. He wonders if things have changed.
Lan Zhan walks closer to him as he calls, and stands shoulder to shoulder to Wei Ying. He’s close enough that if Wei Ying turns, he will feel Wei Ying’s breath on his neck. Wei Ying wonders if Lan Zhan realises that.
“How is your family?”
He starts off with respectful questions first. Of course.
“They’re okay,” Wei Ying answers, letting his guard down for just a bit. He doesn’t get asked much about them these days, but that’s fine. He doesn’t get paid to talk about his family. Lan Zhan knows, though, just how much his family means to him. And Wei Ying appreciates that. “We get by. We have a better apartment now, and Jiejie and Jiang Cheng work in better jobs. Things are better, nowadays. It was harder in the beginning.”
“That’s good,” Lan Zhan answers. He sounds almost relieved. It’s indiscernible, but Wei Ying has spent enough time with Lan Zhan to discern every inflection of his voice, every inch that’s different on his face. “How are you doing?”
“Fine,” Wei Ying shrugs. There’s not more he can say. “I take it day by day. We don’t know how our future will look like, anymore, but that’s fine by us, I think. We’re all together, so it’s alright.”
Lan Zhan’s breaths turn heavier. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, shaking his head. He turns this time, a smile plastered on his face, looking up to the man next to him.
He really is a work of art, isn’t he? His hair barely moves with the wind, and his eyes only irradiate against the darkness. Wei Ying tilts his head to the side, and gazes upon the enigma that is his old classmate. Old best friend? Maybe they were best friends, once. He’s sure Lan Zhan must have held some sort of affection in his heart for him, back then.
“I wasn’t there with you,” Lan Zhan says, regrettably, quietly. Lan Zhan’s more talkative now, Wei Ying realises. He’s slightly—just slightly—more expressive, more accommodating, and even more aggressive, in his own, silent way.
He still hasn’t let go of Wei Ying’s hand.
“How could you be there with me, silly?” Wei Ying has to stop himself from rolling his eyes at Lan Zhan’s sincerity. He knows Lan Zhan means well, but he doesn’t remember Lan Zhan being this nonsensical. Lan Zhan has his own duties to fulfil as second-in-line to his family, and Wei Ying does not, and will never, expect anything out of Lan Zhan whatsoever. “You were studying. Didn’t you have to get your bachelor’s and your master’s? Besides, you don’t owe anything to me. You didn’t have to be there with me.”
Wei Ying means well, himself, but he doesn’t miss the forlorn expression that sweeps over Lan Zhan’s face. It catches him by surprise, and he wonders since when Lan Zhan begun to feel so much.
Since when Lan Zhan begun to feel, for him. He doesn’t know if he’s an isolated case, or if something traumatic happened in the States that has since turned Lan Zhan into an actual human being with feelings that stretched beyond annoyance or indifference.
But Wei Ying has conducted too many of these trials to not know how to figure out a man’s intentions with him. That sickening thought is back again in his head, and he hears again so loud and clear what it’s telling him. That Wei Ying has come to this party to look for someone to take care of him, and there’s a man here that has been offering just that on a silver platter to him. Wei Ying can’t be a hundred percent sure of Lan Zhan’s intentions, and he can’t even fathom a version of Lan Zhan that would be as lonely and lacking in companionship as all the other men he knows, but Lan Zhan has been treating him so gently, so tenderly, that Wei Ying owes it to himself to try.
He needs to know why Lan Zhan looks at him like he’s the one regret in his life, and he needs to know why the fingers around his wrist won’t let go. People change, after all. Wei Ying has changed. Lan Zhan could have changed. The only thing that is holding Wei Ying back is possibly experimenting on his old best friend, but Wei Ying doesn’t see why he can’t just test him a little. Because it’s not like Wei Ying has to act on it. He just wants to try, and see, and ascertain if the sole reason Lan Zhan has dragged him out here onto this balcony is to catch up with a long lost friend, or… something else.
Something darker. Something dangerous.
“Although, I did miss you,” Wei Ying breaks into a soft sigh, a sad smile hanging off his blood-red lips. He takes note of the way Lan Zhan’s ears tint slightly at his confession. Strike one. “Lan er gege. I’m sure you had a ton of fun in the States. I’m so jealous. Did you meet many new people? I’m sure the people there were so good-looking, right? Did you date over there? You must have, didn’t you?”
Lan Zhan is hesitant when he answers. “No.”
“No, what?” Wei Ying laughs, playfulness sparking up his eyes. “I asked you a million questions. Why won’t you talk more? I would have thought going abroad would loosen you up a bit. You’re still as rigid as ever.”
Lan Zhan is as resolute as ever in his responses. “I didn’t meet new people. They weren’t good-looking. I didn’t date anyone.”
Wei Ying lets loose a genuine laugh at that one. It reminds him just why he’d enjoyed teasing Lan Zhan so much back in their youth. It was too easy to rile up the other man; Wei Ying had never met anyone as stiff and inflexible as him.
“Why didn’t you date anyone?” Wei Ying moves closer with every word, this time making sure to tug at the hand that has been on his wrist all these time and interlock his own fingers with Lan Zhan’s, instead, initiating skinship with the taller man. He swears he sees something—hope?—glimmer within those golden eyes. Strike two. “Lan Zhan, you’re very handsome, you know that? I find it hard to believe people wouldn’t be falling all over the place for you. Or are you just picky? You can’t be picky forever, you know. Or maybe you think you’re handsome enough to be so picky?”
Wei Ying’s so close to Lan Zhan at this point, his hot breath is airing on his neck, just like what Wei Ying wanted. He flutters his lashes up as he speaks, lined vividly with thick mascara, and raises his other, carefully manicured hand to pull his hair entirely to the side of his right shoulder. He leaves the left side of his neck bare, open, pale and ready, and he watches Lan Zhan’s eyes as they fall amorously upon such an obvious trap. Strike three. As quickly as Lan Zhan turns away, as hurriedly as he pushes the indecent thoughts out of his head, Wei Ying has already witnessed how those golden eyes have stared and darkened into a familiar kind of lust that Wei Ying is too well-acquainted with.
Oh, he likes it.
“Lan Zhaan,” Wei Ying sings again, bringing up their entwined hands. He pushes it up against the side of his face, rubbing Lan Zhan’s knuckles in a titillating manner against his cheek. “Why won’t you answer me? Won’t you talk to me? Didn’t you drag my poor, little self out here to talk? I thought you wanted to–”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan breathes out, in a warning, and Wei Ying has never heard him sound so… restrained. He doesn’t pull his hand away from Wei Ying’s touches, and so he must enjoy it. He doesn’t distance himself from Wei Ying, only turns his head to the side to avoid Wei Ying’s eyes. He must be scared. Wei Ying has never come on to him so strongly before. Hell, Wei Ying’s not even sure if anyone has ever come on to him this strongly before. Wei Ying can imagine Lan Zhan always keeping a five foot distance from everyone else that isn’t his older brother or uncle, and so there must only be one reason why Lan Zhan has entertained all of Wei Ying’s brazen antics so far.
“You are,” Lan Zhan brings his eyes up to peer at Wei Ying’s exposed neck again for just a second, before he snaps out of it and lets go of their hands momentarily only so he can pull his own jacket off him and hastily place it over Wei Ying’s shoulders. “Very thinly dressed. These robes are too… small. You can’t be attending public events like this.”
So, he’s a possessive one. Possessive enough to tell Wei Ying what to do even before Wei Ying has declared their relationship to be anything more than old friends catching up after seven years.
“I thought I looked pretty,” Wei Ying whines, in a very deliberate move.
Tell me, he gazes up into those conflicted golden eyes. Tell me you think I’m pretty.
He’s pushing the limit here, he knows. And Lan Zhan is too well-controlled to fall into such an obvious trap—again. Surely he must have caught on to what Wei Ying is trying to do by now. He’s clever; they’re both clever. He doesn’t believe that Lan Zhan can handle tricky business negotiations but not read Wei Ying for all that he’s doing. Lan Zhan knows better.
Lan Zhan’s confession comes out in a strained whisper. “Wei Ying looks very pretty.” He’s still tugging at the jacket and trying his best to fit it properly upon Wei Ying’s shoulders, unsatisfied until he sees it fall into place and hide the things he needs it to hide. “But Wei Ying cannot… Wei Ying cannot… dress like this for others.”
It must have taken him everything to spout something of that nature to Wei Ying. Even the raven-haired man is astonished.
Yes, there’s no doubt about it. Lan Zhan’s into him. He’s so into him. Wei Ying has him tightly wound around his finger. They’ve only reunited for a good twenty-minutes, and Wei Ying has already been treated to Lan Zhan’s possessiveness, and an innate greediness for Wei Ying’s touch. Wei Ying doesn’t know if it’s love, but he’s certain there is lust. Lan Zhan looks at him differently, this time. What once were stares of contempt and displeasure have since turned into tender gazes of adoration and warmth. And he’s even presumptuous enough to try and hide Wei Ying away from the public. If Lan Zhan had his way, would he hide Wei Ying from the rest of the world? Would something like that appeal to Lan Zhan’s nature?
“Lan Zhaan,” Wei Ying laughs, amping up the flirtatious whines. He leans into Lan Zhan’s every touch, and sighs happily under the focused attention the taller man bestows upon him. Lan Zhan really can’t see anything else but him. His every glance follows each of Wei Ying’s movements, and whatever Wei Ying gives, Lan Zhan eagerly takes. Wei Ying sinks himself into Lan Zhan’s arms, and feels Lan Zhan’s warmth completely surround him.
Sandalwood. He smells exactly the same as he did sitting next to him in those classrooms seven years ago. Very distantly, he hears his own faint laughter from back then. An overly vexed Lan Zhan growling his name. Many days of being locked in detention together. Even the way Lan Zhan used to look in the evenings, seated next to the window panes, the orange from the sun filtering down onto his pale, pouty cheeks. He’d almost forgotten all of that.
It all makes him feel so safe.
“You don’t own me, you know. You can’t just tell me what I can or cannot wear.”
“Would never presume to own Wei Ying. ”
“So why are you trying to hide me from everyone else? Isn’t that selfish, Lan er gege? Or is that something you’re into nowadays? I wouldn’t be surprised...”
“...It is not safe to attract so much attention being dressed like this. Wei Ying could get himself in danger.”
“Oh, so now you think I can’t protect myself? What’s the possible danger here? I think you’re the only danger I’ve encountered since stepping into this party, gege.”
Flirting has never come to him so easily.
“No,” Lan Zhan refutes. But the soft look in his eyes betray him. His hands take the liberty of trailing down the sides of Wei Ying’s hips, feeling up his tiny waist. “Wei Ying is thinner, now.”
...Huh. Wei Ying’s not going to call him out for so blatantly assuming he can simply feel up Wei Ying’s body, just like that, only because he’s so intrigued by this Lan Zhan and how far he thinks he can go. If it had been anyone else, however, Wei Ying might have very well pulled out the sharp pins in his hair and punctured an internal organ by now.
“But but but, Lan Zhaaan, don’t you like me like this?” Wei Ying questions, innocently, stepping back from their embrace only so he can do a little spin for Lan Zhan. The red silk twirls just below his knees in a graceful movement as he shows his figure off to the other man.
The way he has Lan Zhan totally enraptured—Wei Ying can’t help but wonder when he started looking at Wei Ying in this way. Was it at this party, where Wei Ying was dressed the way he was? He dresses with only one goal in mind—seduction—after all. He can’t blame Lan Zhan for falling for it. For his flirty laughter, his calculated words, his cherry-red lipstick and red silk that has been purposefully tightened around his waist. If Lan Zhan has fallen for his allure, like every other man, so be it. Lan Zhan is very, very wealthy. Even if he’s an old classmate, Wei Ying’s not going to deny a man who so clearly wants him.
“I know I’m thinner, but I still fit perfectly into Lan Zhan’s arms,” Wei Ying sighs out in contentment, and for the first time, he sees Lan Zhan’s lips pull themselves into a semi-coherent smile. It’s leaps and bounds ahead of any other smiling attempt Wei Ying has ever seen on Lan Zhan’s face, and to be on the receiving end of it in a situation like this tears something apart in Wei Ying’s heart.
He can’t believe he made Lan Zhan smile.
“You should still eat more,” Lan Zhan chides, before eagerly pulling Wei Ying back into his hold, and right against his sturdy chest. God, he’s strong. Wei Ying inhales in sharply again. More sandalwood. It’s so refreshing, so different. It truly takes him back to when he’s fifteen, again.
It keeps lulling him into a false sense of security, and Wei Ying finds himself slipping further and further into it. It’s beginning to frighten him.
And perhaps it’s that fear that jolts Wei Ying back into what he’s supposed to do, what he has come here to do. He knows he simply wanted to find out the extent of Lan Zhan’s affections for him, at first, and he had promised himself he wouldn’t go overboard with experimenting with his old friend, but Wei Ying still needs to eat. Jiejie and Jiang Cheng still need to eat. They still have to pay this month’s rent. They still need to have enough to pay off their monthly debts. They still owe people things. Money. Wei Ying can’t indulge himself in anything else, until the day he knows they’re in the clear.
Lan Zhan? He has a cushy home to return to, a cushy job, a cushy life. A cushy trust-fund. He has his entire life ahead of him. Wei Ying and the Jiangs have had theirs ripped out from them, right before their very eyes. Wei Ying shouldn’t feel bad for doing this to him. He shouldn’t need to feel bad for asking the wealthy to spare him a little something.
“Lan Zhan, I have to be honest,” Wei Ying begins, an intentional quaver in his voice. His hands start trembling, and his knees even buckle. He feels Lan Zhan wound his arms around him tighter, as if trying to steady Wei Ying, when he has become most vulnerable. “We’re not making every payment. We’re still struggling. We live in a better apartment now, thankfully, and maybe it’s an indulgence we shouldn’t have splurged on, but—the old house was bad, and I was scared for Jiejie’s safety all the time. I know I’m not in any position to ask you anything. But if… if you think I’m too thin, it’s because I can’t eat better. I’m too scared to, all the time.”
It’s not like he’s lying.
But it’s a different approach, for sure. Most of the men that Wei Ying approaches hardly care about the specifics of Wei Ying’s situation, and dish out money as soon as Wei Ying delivers the time and companionship as requested of them. But Lan Zhan? He’s a gentleman. He’s respectable, and he cares about family. He has background knowledge of how much the Jiangs mean to Wei Ying, and Wei Ying is sure Lan Zhan would feel the same for the Lans, should the Lans ever fall into the same situation. Wei Ying knows Lan Zhan needs to hear that Wei Ying can’t provide for his family. That he needs to know just how badly they are suffering.
Wei Ying is conscious of the fact that despite their shared history, he still barely knows Lan Zhan, now. Sure, they were old friends from back when Wei Ying was happier, and more reckless, and didn’t have to worry about surviving yet another day. They’ve had happy memories together—although, maybe more so for Wei Ying—and gone through both the bad and the good during their time in private school. If Wei Ying remembers shedding a tear at Lan Zhan’s leaving, then they must have had some sort of friendship, at least.
Wei Ying doesn’t know what changed in between the time Lan Zhan was away, but he has come back as somebody who sees Wei Ying as something to take care of, and Wei Ying will greedily take that affection and concern. He needs it, to survive. Someone of Lan Zhan’s stature will grow up and take on an esteemed wife one day, but until then, Wei Ying can provide him the company he needs—should he so want it. It’s not a hostage situation. Wei Ying doesn’t have a gun to his head. It’ll be a fair arrangement.
“How much do you need?” Lan Zhan asks, finally.
Wei Ying’s head, dipped over the blade of Lan Zhan’s right shoulder, stares wordlessly ahead. His red lips stretch out into a lascivious grin this time however, at the knowledge that he has successfully ensnared his prey.
Checkmate.