Chapter Text
The first time Lan Wangji mentioned “Wei Ying,” it wasn’t noteworthy.
It was early in the semester, one of the first couple of weekends. None of them knew each other well - or at least, Luo Qingyang didn’t know any of the others well. Nie Huaisang had gone to undergrad with Lan Wangji, at Berkeley, and Su She also seemed to be familiar with Lan Wangji for some reason. But Luo Qingyang, at least, didn’t know anyone else in the cohort.
So when Lan Wangji made an excuse not to go out with them for drinks on a Friday night, saying, “I must feed Wei Ying,” Luo Qingyang didn’t pay close attention. It was a standoffish classmate, being standoffish.
Later, the exact phrasing of his excuse would become the subject of intense debate, but at the time it wasn’t noteworthy.
No, it was the second time that Lan Wangji mentioned “Wei Ying” that started everything.
Late in September, Qin Su asked Lan Wangji whether he wanted to meet the rest of them that Saturday, for a study session. He answered: “I cannot. I must ensure Wei Ying receives adequate sunlight before the seasons change. It will be his first east-coast winter.”
Qin Su, a paragon of composure and consummate actress, had said something along the lines of, “Oh, okay, maybe next time,” and then shot Luo Qingyang a Look.
Once Lan Wangji had glided away with his dignity intact, Luo Qingyang beelined for Qin Su.
“What was that excuse?” Qin Su asked, voice reaching new octaves.
“I know, like, literally? Is he blowing us off for a houseplant?”
Qin Su shrugged. “I could not tell you. I’m just trying to be nice! There’s only five of us in the cohort!”
Luo Qingyang patted Qin Su’s shoulder. They were the only two women - outnumbered - and the years above them were even more unbalanced. They had to stick together. “It can’t be personal. He did not even flinch at using,” scare quotes, “‘Wei Ying’ as an excuse. He had that prepared.”
“I’m pretty sure - didn’t he mention Wei Ying a few weeks ago, when we were going out for drinks?”
“Huh,” Luo Qingyang had said. It took her a moment to think back, but Qin Su was right - Lan Wangji had used Wei Ying as an excuse the first time he had blown them off. “You’re right. Jeez, okay, Wei Ying is probably real. Some kind of pet, then?”
Su She had manifested at that point, butting into the conversation. “No way,” he said. “His uncle? Who raised him, by the way? He’s super strict. No pets allowed. It’s gotta be a houseplant.”
The level of personal information Su She was willing to reveal about such a private person was disconcerting. But it did make good gossip, and did at least provide a momentary distraction from the absolute mountain of theoretical reading Luo Qingyang had to read. It was all extremely interesting theoretical reading, of course, but it wasn’t easy to digest.
After that, Qin Su and Luo Qingyang had kept a running tally of the reasons Lan Wangji bowed out of social situations. Su She had also participated, of course, but they tried their best to avoid involving him too much. Nie Huaisang, in contrast, who was a delightful contributor to gossip about grad students in other departments (“You’ll never believe the things the dance people get up to!”), was curiously mum on the subject of Wei Ying and/or Lan Wangji.
“I don’t know,” he insisted at every turn, “Lan Wangji has always intimidated me. I avoided him in undergrad!”
Which, fair enough. Lan Wangji was intimidating. Luo Qingyang was glad that they probably wouldn’t be competing for grants, since he was focusing on composing highly traditional music, while Luo Qingyang’s own arrangements were far more contemporary.
Regardless, that did not change the evidence that Luo Qingyang and Qin Su, through dedication and a willingness to get socially rejected again and again, accumulated:
“Wei Ying wishes to watch a nature documentary tonight,” in response to an invitation to cohort dinner.
“Wei Ying will wreak havoc on our apartment, if I do not return home soon,” when Su She suggested they drink away the stress just after the five of them had finished a harrowing group presentation that had taken a full week of insane hours to pull off.
“It is Wei Ying’s birthday,” when they invited him to a Halloween party.
“I already have plans at that time to take Wei Ying to the park. So he can play in the leaves,” when Luo Qingyang was trying to set up a meeting for them to work on a paper they were writing together.
The point was, Lan Wangji talked a lot about Wei Ying, relative to how much he talked about everything else. But it was not clear what - or who - Wei Ying was.
“Plant, plant, plant,” Su She whined. “I’m telling you, it’s a plant. I know I only knew him in high school, but it’s gotta be a plant. He’s still the same person, the same stick in the mud.”
Luo Qingyang rolled her eyes. “‘Play in the leaves,’” she quoted, “a plant doesn’t play in the leaves.”
“Okay so, a cat? Lan Wangji is, like, definitely not a dog person.” Su She did genuinely have a point with that one.
“I could see him with a rabbit,” Qin Su said, tapping her index finger on her chin and staring off into space.
It was the middle of November. Finals season loomed. It wasn’t like they hadn’t been through it all before as undergrads, but the pressure of graduate school finals was that much worse.
So they had all been looking for the opportunity to derail the study session when Nie Huaisang, of all people, had swept in, saying that Lan Wangji refused to join since he, quote, “Promised to play guqin for Wei Ying that evening.”
It wasn’t even one of the more absurd excuses! They were just slap-happy from too many hours staring at sheet music.
“I feel like we’re sleeping on the possibility of Wei Ying being, like, his husband.” Luo Qingyang offered.
Su She scowled. “I already told you, there’s no way Lan Wangji has a partner.”
Nie Huaisang sat in the corner, feet up on one of the desks, watching the exchange like a very different man would watch a football game.
“Come on,” Luo Qingyang said, crooking her fingers at him, “there’s no way you don’t have tea to spill. So, you know, spill it!”
He snapped open a fan and hid the lower half of his face. “Nope. No way.”
Qin Su sighed. “Come on, Mian-er, he’s never going to tell us what he knows. Anyway,” she added, dropping into her best impression of pompous professor Yao, “present your case.”
“Thank you, Madam Qin, for hearing my humble assessment of the facts,” Luo Qingyang bowed in her direction. “My ‘husband’ theory turns on the very statement that my colleague, Master Su, misguidedly used to advance the ‘plant’ theory: Lan Wangji blew us off to make sure Wei Ying received ‘adequate sunlight.’”
Luo Qingyang was getting into it, starting to pace through the abandoned classroom. “From this, we can deduce two facts. One: Wei Ying requires sunlight to be healthy. Two: Wei Ying will not seek out the sunlight he needs without Lan Wangji’s supervision.”
Qin Su was right there with Luo Qingyang; steepling her fingers and nodding along.
“Cats? Notorious for seeking out the sunlight. Dogs? We’ve established that Lan Wangji is clearly not a dog person. Rabbits? I mean, I’m pretty sure no one takes their rabbits to the park. Ergo: Wei Ying is a man! A man Lan Wangji is married to.”
Qin Su started to applaud and then, horribly, stopped.
Luo Qingyang had seen enough movies in her life to know what that meant. She rotated on her heels to look to the doorway and see - yes, of course - Lan Wangji, more than fifteen minutes late, without Starbucks, and open-mouthed.
“Lan Wangji,” she started. But what was there to say? There was no way Lan Wangji was going to find it funny, and no matter who or what Wei Ying actually was, there was no way Luo Qingyang’s monologue didn’t come across as rude.
Not that anyone would know it, to look at him. Sure, he was at his most expressive - mouth slightly ajar - but he wasn’t making any actual expressions Luo Qingyang could interpret.
“Not . . .” Lan Wangji started. The four of them waited, transfixed. “Not married.”
Luo Qingyang restrained herself from pumping her fist - vindication! Wei Ying was a person! “I am so, so sorry that you overheard us.”
Lan Wangji seemed to pull himself together. “I . . . Wei Ying is a very,” enormous pause, “important person to me.”
“Of course,” Qin Su, iconic queen of saving Luo Qingyang’s life, jumped in, “we weren’t - we - listen, Lan Wangji, I’m gay, so it definitely isn’t, uh, that, if you . . . “
Lan Wangji went on his version of a face journey (slightly widening his eyes, a few rapid blinks, just the faintest reddening of his ears) and said, “I know. I’ve seen you at the LGBTQ+ student association meetings.”
“What? I’ve never seen you at any of those!” So there had only been three so far that Luo Qingyang had gone to - she hadn’t gone to any before she found out Qin Su went - but Lan Wangji was a regular-attendance kind of guy. A punctual, sit-at-the-front kind of man. Luo Qingyang knew: she had classes with him on the reg.
“Great! We’re all out of the closet,” Nie Huaisang piped up. “Love this. Iconic. Not even a token straightie in here.”
“What?” Qin Su and Luo Qingyang whirled, simultaneous, on Su She.
“Have you been holding out on us?” Qin Su demanded.
“Nie Huaisang, from the bottom of my heart,” Su She said, “go fuck yourself. Didn’t we come here to study?”
“Yes,” Lan Wangji said, still from his spot in the doorway, “we should study.”
“You’re right,” Luo Qingyang said, going back to the desk space (three desks, actually, pulled together, for all her papers) that she had staked out as her territory. “Glad you, uh, could make it.”
“Wei Ying had forgotten about an important deadline,” Lan Wangji explained as he found an unoccupied desk (just the one, for his single pristine notebook). “So I am free.”
Luo Qingyang and Qin Su exchange glances. Now that Wei Ying was confirmed as Lan Wangji’s partner, it was all extremely cute. Almost made up for the fact that the previously-endless well of “What’s a Wei Ying” entertainment had dried up.
“Do you think it would be a good idea to get, like, absolutely hammered at the department end-of-semester party?” Qin Su asked.
“Yes,” Luo Qingyang said. There would be faculty there. Their professors. Their dissertation advisors. “They’re going to see us smashed, at some point. Best to get it out of the way.”
“Thank you for your wisdom.”
They went back to typing their respective papers. Their last papers of the semester. They were all so close to being free . . . Lan Wangji was probably already done, but Luo Qingyang had worked on two projects with him by that point and knew how many rounds of edits he could make.
After another five minutes, a thought - a non-music thought, thanks, she had been having plenty of extremely good and groundbreaking thoughts about composition - occurred to Luo Qingyang. “You know, I bet we’re finally going to meet Professor Xiao’s husband.”
Qin Su looked up, momentarily confused, but Luo Qingyang could see the moment she put the pieces together. “Ooh, yes, I bet they’re super cute together. Guess I won’t show up messy so I can see what he’s like, first.”
“We honor your sacrifice,” Luo Qingyang said. Nie Huaisang and Lan Wangji weren’t paying any attention - Nie Huaisang had his headphones in and Lan Wangji was capable of ignoring an earthquake if he wanted to - so they wouldn’t mind her speaking for them. Su She was a glaring little demon - his mood had considerably worsened in the past few weeks, since he had been proven wrong re: Wei Ying - so she didn’t care if he minded.
“I bet it’s going to be, like, the significant other show there. Every tenured professor is married, right?” Qin Su turned away from her laptop, clearly ready for a break.
“Two of the adjuncts, too,” Luo Qingyang said. “And some of the other grad students. Also, some of them have, like, serious long-term relationships, so they might bring their partners.”
“Oh!” A light went on in Qin Su’s eyes and she perked up. “Hey, Lan Wangji! You’re dating someone pretty seriously - are you going to bring Wei Ying? Show ‘em that our cohort can get laid, too!”
Lan Wangji, always someone who avoided unnecessary movement, went completely still. Like, marble statue. The only reason Luo Qingyang wasn’t worried he had died was the fact that his ears were bright red.
“I will ask,” Lan Wangji said, not looking up from his screen.
Qin Su and Luo Qingyang exchanged a glance. Now that Wei Ying’s species had been confirmed, he was no longer the subject of serious debate, but they had had a few idle late-night pretty-tipsy conversations about what kind of person Wei Ying was. It was hard not to wonder: Lan Wangji didn’t seem like the romantic type, but he clearly indulged Wei Ying’s every whim. What kind of person could inspire that kind of dedication in someone with such high standards?
Apparently, they had a chance of finding out.