Chapter 1: Chapter One
Chapter Text
Wei Ying’s phone screen lit up with a notification, making him smile. A reply of “thank you” followed by a blue loveheart made him feel dizzy. At long last one of his messages had been replied to. He’d been rewarded for his patience. Like the sun finally coming out from behind the clouds, he was worthy of the light again.
As Wei Ying looked at the dancer on the screen, the world around him faded into nothing. The sounds of a large crowd cheering, melted into one blurred buzz in the back of his mind, as he watched the mysterious boy move with expert precision.
This fan must have studied the dance immediately, practicing from the moment their new song, Ghost Heart, was released. Wei Ying’s own voice sang back to him as he watched. The dancer was as flawless as ever: steps light, gliding through Wei Ying’s moves with ease. He had been rising in popularity, gaining followers steadily, and Wei Ying’s messages didn't get returned as frequently as they once had.
A few years ago, Wei Ying would receive a reply almost instantly. Now he might be lucky to get a thank you. He missed being able to fire off a complement and know it had been received. He missed having long random conversations with this boy about all sorts of nonsense.
He knew his favourite drinks, his favourite anime, how he needed to wear a mask to hide his identity. He knew that the boy liked rabbits. That he was a vegetarian. That he disliked spicy foods. So many little details that the dancer had told him over the years, things he’d revealed about himself casually. Wei Ying had remembered them all.
But now, Wei Ying’s messages were buried inside a swarm of others and ignored. He wasn't used to being ignored. Wei Ying had spent the last five years with people vying for his attention. His return reply made sure the mystery dancer knew this.
Wei Ying bit his bottom lip as he looked at his chest, the sheer silver crop top he wore allowed him to peek at more skin the more he moved. The dancer was beautiful. Wei Ying replayed the video this time to just look at his muscles. He felt jealous. He’d been one of a handful of followers, but it soon turned into hundreds. Now he was one of thousands.
Wei Ying didn't know who the dancer was. He had been a mystery for years and the excitement of that kept Wei Ying intrigued. All he knew was that the dancer called himself Wangji.
The frustration of still using his YLLZ alias burned, and the temptation to sign in as The Yiling Laozu, official account and message the boy directly was hard to ignore. Wangji only ever performed Wei Ying’s moves. He only ever sang Wei Ying’s lines. He was clearly a super fan. What would the mystery boy think if he were to get a message directly from Wei Ying? What would he think to know he had been speaking to him for years?
“Ugh,” Jiang Cheng uttered as he came to stand next to him. “Not again. Put the damn phone away, you’re obsessed."
Wei Ying refused to look from the screen, still smiling as he played the video again. The way Wangji moved was so smooth, like a ribbon drifting on a breeze. Graceful, yet sharp. For Wei Ying, who had now been dancing professionally for ten years, who had trained day in day out for all of those years, never stopping to rest, he could recognize a fellow devotee to the art. People didn’t wake up one day with a body like Wangji’s. You didn’t perform choreography with such ease if you’d only started yesterday. This boy knew what he was doing.
“He’s just replied to me.”
“You’re pathetic,” Jiang Cheng told him. “Just message him directly and have done with it.”
“We ought to offer him a job,” Wei Ying suggested brightly. “He could be one of our dancers!”
“So you can drool over him? Not a chance. You don’t even know who he is. You’re lusting over a nobody.”
Wei Ying turned his phone off in annoyance.
“He’s not a nobody. Just because he hides his face doesn’t mean anything. Clearly he doesn’t want this mixing with his day job. He could be anyone. A police officer? A doctor? No, wait, a surgeon?”
“Let me guess, he’s a surgeon by day, police officer by night, dances about in skimpy clothes on his days off? Why does he have such stressful jobs?” Jiang Cheng asked, not caring to temper his sarcasm. “He might also work in a library? Hey, I know! He’s unemployed.”
“Ha ha, very funny. I know he’s not unemployed.”
“How do you know?” Jiang Cheng asked.
“He told me he can’t reveal his face due to work,” Wei Ying answered.
“People lie you know.”
“But clearly he can't be seen doing this,” Wei Ying reasoned. At this point, Wangji could definitely monetise his account. He was rapidly gaining followers and followers meant advertising and sponsorships. For Wei Ying, who was currently finalising his contract for the latest Chanel campaign, sponsorships were just a standard part of life. Why would Wangji not capitalise too?
“Maybe he’s ugly?” Jiang Cheng asked. “That’s why he wears a mask.”
“Don’t be horrible,” Wei Ying told him.
Jiang Cheng stretched his hands up over his head, before replying. “Alright, sorry. It was just a joke.”
“Besides, do you think people just pick a career and their personalities and interests disappear?” Wei Ying asked. He copied Jiang Cheng and stretched up high too. His back made a satisfying pop sound and he relaxed, only to start lightly jogging on the spot.
The nerves were creeping in now and standing still was getting harder to do.
“I don’t know. I’ve only ever done this. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do,” Jiang Cheng answered. “Why would someone want to live a double life?”
“Not everyone is as lucky as us, Jiang Cheng.”
Wei Ying handed his phone over to a waiting stagehand and took the offered microphone. The platform they were standing on was due to rise up onto the stage, bringing them into the view of the waiting crowd. It moved fast, almost throwing them up into the air with the force. In the initial practice they had lost their footing. Now, as soon as it hit level, they knew to move with it, bursting out into the light to the sound of enthusiastic screaming and the boom of their opening song.
“Lucky,” Jiang Cheng mouthed at him. “Lucky Wei Ying.”
Smiling, Wei Ying took a deep breath and let himself feel the anticipation of the moment. The grueling hours they spent rehearsing, the aching of their limbs, the constant hunger, being deprived of this, being unable to do that, all led to this moment.
Their comeback.
Smoke drifted by his feet as they all landed hitting the stageboards hard. Behind them the pyrotechnics fired into life, shooting sparks into the air. Lights flickered, dark, red, purple, strobing. The music blasted out into the waiting audience, and then the world slipped away. Every move was perfect, not one of them moved without the others already sliding into position. Like one mind, they knew exactly where each other would be on the stage without having to look.
Wei Ying stopped thinking. His body glided through what had been practiced until blisters appeared on their feet. He sang words he was certain were carved into his soul, pouring all of himself into the performance. No room to worry. The music moved the crowd too, swaying, singing, dancing. Light wands waved, shaped with what fans had named the Yin Tiger Tally.
“I can’t breathe,” Wei Ying gasped as the lights went out and they were surrounded in darkness. “I’m dying.”
Beside him Jiang Cheng was frantically trying to catch his own breath, and Wen Ning had his eyes closed, forcing himself to calm down. Wei Ying copied him. Breathing in, hold, out, hold, in… Slowly he began to feel in control of himself again. The set was brutal. It always had been, but the inclusion of their new music had pushed the dancing tempo, and the moves demanded more.
A stagehand was signaling them to get back into formation, frantically waving her hand to tell them to get ready. The two supportive dancers left and two new ones arrived. The backing dancers took their places, and the trio moved to face the crowd once again. As the lights went up, the newly dropped single began to play. The crowd had no idea that their idols had been fighting for air just seconds ago.
The show went on.
***
The studio audience was laughing, the mirth was lighthearted, but it wasn’t completely connected. It felt very much, the band vs the crowd currently. Wei Ying was used to it. While LOTU5 were the most popular idols back home, for the rest of the world they could still be something to be wondered at by the average TV viewer. They often made the casual spectator confused. The equivalent to western homegrown stars were not like for like, so while the interviewer continued to ask questions that Wei Ying would have considered rude, the man saw no problem with pushing them all for confessions and explanations.
“So, the name, lotus, how did that come about?” the host asked, his smile bright but ungenuine.
Wei Ying side-eyed Jiang Cheng and knew he was bristling. It was likely this was the interviewers' schtik: Making his guests feel uncomfortable and getting the audience to laugh at them. Maybe it worked to subdue some people, but for Wei Ying, very little made him lose sight of himself. They’d just spent last night walking the red carpet for a movie premiere. Wen Ning had literally had his arms around a famous female singer. The interviewer sure hadn’t.
Jiang Cheng gave the standard reply: how it was symbolic and how Wei Ying had lived with him and his family for a time before they’d become trainees. That the lotus flower was special to them. But this wasn’t enough, and there was a tinge of teasing and possibly even outright mocking as the interview continued.
“Why five? Did someone miscount? here are only three of you.”
“Three?” Wei Ying asked, theatrically looking around. “We left the other two behind again?”
Two dancers always accompanied the group, not necessarily the same each time. Some were more popular than others. They were not part of the band, merely symbolic to make the five in the name. They learnt a version of the main dance and faded into the back when needed. Originally there had been five band members, but one boy’s health couldn't take the vigorous training and the other left to return to his family business. Wen Management had decided to debut as the three of them, rather than try and replace their lost members.
The audience continued to laugh. Now that it seemed jokes were being batted back the other way, the laughter sounded more inclusive. As if the tide had turned, and the crowd was now with the band. The interviewer laughed too, pretending to be gotten by the joke. He paused for effect and moved along.
“Now, this is your comeback album, is that correct?”
“Comeback, that’s right,” Wei Ying answered. “We haven’t released new music for four years.”
“Why the delay?”
LOTU5 had been the most successful debuting idols in Wen Management history, outperforming all competition and going global in their first year. Jiang Cheng was the leader; he was extremely serious about choreography, the style of the group, and about keeping the others in line. His fans loved his rather short-tempered personality, always demanding perfection, and fiercely loyal to the others. He was a strong dancer, vocally sharp, and overall a perfect star.
“Our fans have been very generous, allowing us to remain on tour for so long. So we want to thank everyone who has supported us, and we hope they will continue to enjoy our music.”
LOTU5 had released most of their music in the first year, two albums worth, and then the concerts had never stopped. They’d toured the world twice. They’d supported bands in the west until they outgrew them. They’d been interviewed by seemingly every host possible. They’d been on every challenge show and every quiz. They’d attended fashion events and more movie premieres than Wei Ying could remember. As their fame had grown and expanded around the world, the busier life became, the more people demanded of them, and the more reality began to slide out of reach.
It had been years since Wei Ying had gone to buy his own groceries. He’d learnt to drive and then had never used his own car. Why would he bother? He was chauffeured everywhere. His schedule was dominated by dance practice, the gym, vocal training, and his diet was vigorously monitored. Jiang Cheng was a monster when it came to insisting the rules be followed.
But while their souls and freedom were slowly fed into the machine, the final product had catapulted them to stardom. Everything that had once been a dream became everyday. They were VIPs with access to exclusive events. They had wealth and brand deals. Global recognition and influence.
They could travel the world. Things their trainee selves hadn’t dared to hope for. They could wear designer clothes and eat in the best restaurants, never worrying how the bill was paid.
Wei Ying hadn't looked at his bank account for three years. He had no idea what he was worth. He had an accountant. When he wanted to buy something big, he called him. The answer was always yes. He had investments that he didn't understand. His card never declined.
If he wanted it, he got it. But the personal price paid was high.
As they were driven back to the hotel, another beautiful building, in another expensive city, Wei Ying looked out of the window. Wen Ning was on his phone. He just turned 22 and was the baby of the group. He’d been 17 when they’d debuted, three years younger than both Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng.
He’d been full of optimism as a trainee, with endless energy and ready to say yes to whatever was asked of him. He could stay up all night practicing and still be ready to perform the next day. But he’d also only been a kid, one pushed too hard and too fast.
“Wen Ning, what are you doing?” Wei Ying asked.
Wen Ning smiled as he looked up. He turned his phone around to show Wei Ying a message. It was from their management, saying that their latest single was remaining at number one for the twelfth week running, an utterly crazy length of time. It had been a while since they’d released anything new, and it was a strange feeling to have so much fresh hype around them.
“Jiang Cheng didn’t almost kill us for nothing then,” Wei Ying commented. “Twelve weeks and counting. Shame we have to knock ourselves off the top spot when we release the next one.”
Training for the new music drop had been brutal. To disappear out of the world’s eye for months had fuelled endless speculation about the state of their group. A rumour had circulated that they were about to disband. This had caused Jiang Cheng to panic, and he’d drilled them hard to learn the choreography for the new release.
Finally the first song has dropped, flooded social media, and the world tour had sold out overnight.
There was no break in sight.
“People are…copying my…rap,” Wen Ning said, taking his phone back. “It's a…trend.”
Wen Ning was something of an enigma. He struggled to speak, his words seemed to catch in his mouth. Yet if he rapped, he could spit a flawless bar full of emotion and clear as a bell. He never stumbled. Never forgot a lyric. He was by far the best Wei Ying had ever heard.
Jiang Cheng looked up.
“Wen Qing messaged me. She says we need to go to bed immediately, then she will call us in the morning. We have another interview to do on a breakfast show, and then we are flying to London.”
Wei Ying groaned. Wen Qing was Wen Ning’s older sister. She was also their manager, and worked for the family business Wen Management. The entertainment company was considered to be the most successful of all their competitors, but since the explosion of LOTU5, they’d secured their place in the lead.
Wen Qing managed everything about their lives. She was akin to their god, with Jiang Cheng her most devoted disciple. He was a carbon copy of her bossiness and lack of emotion when it came to working them to exhaustion. Wen Qing had been with them since the very first day, holding them together, handling their training, their debut, their schedules, promotions and public image. She was formidable.
“Go to bed?” Wei Ying asked grumpily. “I wanted to get drunk and have dangerous sex with a stranger! Maybe get tied up, pushed around a bit, you know, the full works.”
“Wei Ying!” Jiang Cheng snapped looking appalled.
“Fine! I’ll go to bed. But I’m 25 now and so are you. Don’t you want to get laid?” Wei Ying asked, losing his joking tone. “Seriously, do I have to die a virgin? Come on.”
“Why are we having this conversation?” Jiang Cheng asked, looking disgusted. “Who are you trying to sleep with? Can’t you just not do that? At least not right now!”
“I'd just like to have the option, okay?”
“The…masked dancer,” Wen Ning said with a small smirk. “You’d like…to do him?”
“What?” Jiang Cheng snapped. “You can’t date a fan, Wei Ying. I wasn’t being serious when I said you should contact him. You can’t message him! He could be anyone! At best he murders you, at worst he sells his story and you bring shame on us all.”
“I’m glad you think me dying is preferable to the proposed shame. Thanks for that,” Wei Ying said, folding his arms. “But I can look right? No harm in looking. Besides, Wangji doesn't know I follow him. I use an alias. Got to keep one step ahead of them all.”
“Wei Ying is…smart,” Wen Ning said, nodding with approval.
“Smart? He’s being a dumbass right now. If you mess up our comeback Wei Ying, I’ll kill you.”
Irritating Jiang Cheng was Wei Ying’s favourite thing to do. He’d been so close to being made leader of their group back in the day, failing not on skill, but on his inability to listen to orders. So he liked to capitalise on his freedoms by being a rebel instead.
***
Wei Ying was tired, he'd been pushed around all morning, and the makeup under his eyes was not successfully covering the dark circles. He’d been forced to drink some green superfood smoothie thing, which had now given him stomach ache. All in all, he was in a bad mood. But when the cameras began rolling, he brightened, smiled, and did his job.
“The Yiling Laozu, that's an interesting nickname your fans have for you. How did that come about?”
“It is an old gaming handle. The Yiling Laozu and The Ghost General,” Wei Ying explained. “But it caught on. Fans say I use dark cultivation to control Wen Ning’s rapping abilities.”
“Very creative.”
“Our fans are very imaginative. We are very appreciative.”
The interviews continued. Some didn't understand them at all, some were incredibly kind. Some treated them like they’d descended from heaven. Some couldn't care less. But Wei Ying stuck to the script. He stayed humble. Kind. Polite. Jiang Cheng prickled at times when people were rude, and Wen Ning sank into himself, but Wei Ying stayed on track.
He was quick-witted. He didn’t really care what people thought of him. No interview was going to make him question who he was or the music they made. Because they were lucky. They were blessed, and no one was going to make him think otherwise.
As they ended another day, Wei Ying lay in darkness, finally alone. His phone buzzed.
Wei Ying sat up on the bed and stared at the words.
Wei Ying felt his heart stop. It stuttered back into life then began to race. He’d never pushed Wangji for his personal feelings before. It felt dangerous to do it now.
Wei Ying smiled. He thought about asking for a picture, but knew Wangji wouldn’t send one. He didn’t want to seem like he was trying to trick him either.
His message was liked by Wangji and then there was silence. Wei Ying opened his chat with Jiang Cheng.
Jiang Cheng was typing. Then stopped. Then there was a long silence before he started typing again.
Chapter 2: Chapter Two
Summary:
LOTU5 continue their tour across Europe and Wei Ying struggles with exhaustion and comes to realise his feelings for Wangji.
Notes:
As there are so many text messages in this fic, please go to the top of the page and select "Show Creator's Style" Then you can read all the messages in tidy little text chat boxes!!
Once again a massive thank you to Dove for reading this over for me and for all the invaluable help with the work skin! ❤️❤️❤️
Chapter Text
Wei Ying stood under the bright lights, feeling the weight of thunderous applause and cheering. The noise filled him, echoing around his bones as if they were empty. Although his body ached, his heart raced. He was hot and his clothes pinched him. He felt far away, drifting out of touch, floating into a world that few could ever understand. Maybe his sugar was low. Maybe he’d dumped his blood pressure? Or maybe he was just freaking out. Even though he was a seasoned performer, no human brain was meant to look out on a sea of people and remain grounded. In this moment he wasn’t Wei Ying. He wasn’t a person with worries and fears like everyone else. He was an idea, an idol, a fantasy for the eighty-eight thousand fans in the sold-out stadium.
With adrenaline threatening to make the shaking in his limbs visible, Wei Ying looked to Wen Ning. The younger boy smiled at him and Wei Ying reached across to put his hand on his shoulder. Feeling Wen Ning, real and alive under his hand, brought back a hint of reality.
“Alright?” Wen Ning mouthed to him. “You…okay? Need to break?”
Wen Ning knew the feeling of spiraling. They’d spent many nights discussing what Jiang Cheng had never understood. The feeling of being uneasy inside your own skin. The way life sometimes happened in fast-forward or slow-motion, but very rarely did it move comfortably.
“I freaked myself out,” Wei Ying admitted into Wen Ning’s ear. “Pinch me.”
Wen Ning pushed him playfully, causing Wei Ying to at first stumble, then laugh. The world stopped expanding into a vast uncontrollable confusion and began to shrink back down again. Wei Ying grinned at him before raising his microphone.
“Hello London! Wembley, we love you!” he shouted.
The instant wash of screaming hit them like a wave; the light-wands seemed to grow brighter as they were waved with more intensity. Out in the sea of colours Wei Ying saw posters with his own face on them, massive love hearts, people almost crying as they waved their hands in the air. They made their way to the front of the stage, allowing a moment to regroup themselves and for the backing dancers to change their clothing backstage. They were about to move into their next era, with their new music, their faster moves, their darker style. The comeback had been a subtle hint of what was to come, but it had landed with more worldwide acknowledgement than anyone could have predicted.
Seeing faces in the crowd made Wei Ying feel safer. Every hand in the air belonged to someone. Every light waved was a fan who supported them. It was alright; they were killing it. Any doubts and anxiety that had lingered from the rumours that had engulfed them pre-tour were shaken away.
They were not boring.
They were not disbanding.
They were not finished.
Instead they had thousands of fans and the world in their hands, and as the first notes of “Ghost Heart” began, Wei Ying turned off his mind and fell back into the familiar. He unzipped the fastening on his shirt, revealing a light vest underneath, cut low under the arms. Feeling cool air on his skin was a welcome relief, even if he did catch Jiang Cheng roll his eyes at the white rabbit on his back. Changing the top hadn't caused any problems, but he had kept the reason behind it a firm secret.
The heavy beat of their song drove into his head with each hit, knocking out any other thought the deeper it went. Wei Ying heard himself singing, moving through steps until they reached his favourite part. As they stepped into a line, Jiang Cheng hidden behind him, Wen Ning in front. Then they split. Wen Ning lower, Wei Ying to the side, Jiang Cheng facing the back of the stage.
The choreography was carefully planned to make it seem as though Wei Ying were controlling Wen Ning’s movements. It was just a few beats, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it step. But when Wen Ning suddenly started fighting against the world with his bars, the effect was obvious. The moment of feeling out of control passed, and he remembered he was no pretender. He was Wei Ying. He was the Yiling Laozu.
The last time they’d toured the Western world, it had still been possible to disguise themselves and sneak around the cities. Seeing landmarks and eating in restaurants like the average tourist had given them the illusion of still being normal. It had taken some major subterfuge, but it had happened.
One of Wei Ying’s favourite memories was eating cheeseburgers at TGI Fridays in London’s Leicester Square. They’d been surrounded by regular people, who’d mercifully ignored them. They hadn’t been stared at and people hadn’t hovered around for an autograph. They’d sat out in the open, hidden in plain sight. Laughing and riding high on the back of their tour success.
Wen Qing had joined them a lot in those earlier days. Jiang Cheng had once bought her a Birkin bag, a super rare one that he’d had trouble getting hold of. Wei Ying was so sure they’d been more than just friends. But Jiang Cheng had denied it, and it had fizzled into nothing. But regardless of what had been happening, those times had been happy.
*
“TGI Fridays closed down,” Jiang Cheng told him as soon as they made it backstage and the immediate chaos had calmed. “I looked it up before we arrived. And Planet Hollywood is gone too.”
“What?” Wei Ying demanded, handing his belt off to the wardrobe staff before kicking off a shoe.
People set upon him like scavengers around a carcass, ripping bits of him away. Used to being manhandled post show, Wei Ying just let himself be cajoled into undressing as quickly as possible.
“Careful with that shirt, it’s got my rabbit on it,” Wei Ying said as his shirt was taken away, before turning back to Jiang Cheng. “Did they demolish Buckingham Palace too? Flatten…uh, hang on, I forgot what it’s called…the place with the big clock.”
Distracted by being effectively naked at this point, Wei Ying stopped talking. The costumes had to survive the tour and needed cleaning, pressing and mending before the next performance. It was a big task to keep it all looking new, but why it needed to be so frantic was anyone’s guess.
“Doubt it,” Jiang Cheng replied as he was set upon by the wardrobe staff too. “You mean Big Ben?”
Wei Ying sighed. “But where do we get a mediocre burger from now? You promised we could eat trash food for once. I was looking forward to it!”
“You ate a burger in New York,” Jiang Cheng reminded him, now pulling a fresh shirt over his head. “One is enough.”
Wei Ying put his hand on his stomach. He was beginning to look thin, he’d thought it last night when he’d looked in yet another hotel mirror. Lean seemed to be his natural build, but if he dropped a few pounds, on camera it always looked like ten. He thought suddenly of Wangji’s washboard abs and bit the inside of his cheek. That boy had an incredible body. Even Jiang Cheng had reluctantly agreed to the assessment, with a, “Yeah, I suppose so. If I were a girl, or liked guys, I suppose that’s attractive. But stop watching all his videos, it’s getting boring now, this freaky obsession.”
Wei Ying hadn’t dated anyone before. His whole life had been study, then dance, then LOTU5. Every second of every day was eat, sleep, breathe the show, the music, the image. He’d never even considered trying to meet someone, until he saw Wangji. Then the idea began to grow. Little by little he came to understand himself. He liked boys. Or rather, he liked this one.
And Wangji liked Wei Ying.
“Wake up, Wei Ying,” Jiang Cheng snapped at him. “I said you’ve already eaten a burger.”
“Yeah. But that burger wasn’t mediocre, it was excellent. Find somewhere else Jiang Cheng. I want to eat local food. I’m wasting away here! Look! I’ve lost half my body weight on this tour so far.”
“Good,” Jiang Cheng muttered under his breath. “If you die from starvation I won’t have to hear you complaining anymore.”
Still, Wei Ying felt Jiang Cheng’s eyes look him over. It was likely the same thought had crossed Jiang Cheng’s mind. The group image was essential to maintain and Wei Ying fading away would benefit no one.
“Fish and chips,” Wen Ning said suddenly. “Fish…battered…fish…I researched it…that’s local.”
“Fish and chips, right! You’re a genius, Wen Ning. I absolutely want to eat fish and chips. I saw someone try British food on a video recently; it looked fun.”
“You’re not eating that!” Jiang Cheng cried, looking horrified. “You need protein and vegetables. A good balanced meal and supplements. Not battered fish."
“We’re eating at…the hotel,” Wen Ning interrupted, holding up his phone to show the schedule. “Room service.”
Jiang Cheng looked even more annoyed by this.
“I’m calling Wen Qing. You’re both going to get sick if you don’t eat properly, then a-jie will kill me. You know how worried she gets! Last time we had a nutritionist with us. Are they trying to skimp out on us now? Kill us with junk fish? I’m not having it.”
Wei Ying watched Jiang Cheng stomp away to make his threatened phone call. He knew Wen Qing could match all of Jiang Cheng’s sass, but it was likely he’d get his way this time. At one mention of them looking like the undead, a private chef would probably be flown out. No one would make money if the tour got cancelled because they all collapsed.
Not to mention the scandal.
Wei Ying froze. He’d totally blanked on reality for a moment. He’d been about to send Wangji the same photo he’d just uploaded on his official account. In one act of stupidity he’d almost blown his own act. He could have ruined the whole thing.
Wei Ying scanned through his previous messages, heart racing. The near-miss had shaken him and his grip on reality. Maybe he really was losing it? Maybe the moment onstage was bleeding into everything? Maybe he was finally going crazy like every famous person eventually did. Lost in their own hype.
Wangji was very health-conscious. A lot of their previous conversations had revolved around food, with Wei Ying complaining about his restrictive diet and Wangji offering suggestions. Wangji didn’t agree with restricting intake, he believed in nutrition, in an almost regimented way that made Wei Ying wonder if he were really a robot. He claimed not to get cravings too, which Wei Ying thought sounded like bullshit. Who didn’t get cravings? Who didn’t want to smash down two packs of instant noodles and skip the gym? Wangji apparently.
Wei Ying had told him he needed to eat clean for health reasons and had never expanded on why. Then again, wasn’t everyone trying to be healthy these days, so maybe an explanation wasn’t needed?
Still, Wangji gave good advice and was kind about it too. He was all-around very sweet and encouraging, which made the recent periods of silence from him harder to deal with.
Wei Ying felt at peace. London had taken them under its wing. The interviews had been a different type of teasing, featuring plenty of the self-deprecating humour Wei Ying had come to expect. Hosts tried to copy their moves, setting themselves up as the joke, causing the audiences to laugh with the group instead of at them. Their fans were suddenly everywhere, and making fun of the group was no longer the media’s meal ticket. It seemed everyone knew them; everyone wanted to be their friends. Endless invitations were sent to management, and Wen Qing’s protege who had accompanied them so far, seemed overwhelmed.
Still, life felt good.
Then Wangji’s dance went viral. It happened overnight. His subscriber numbers exploded, and Wei Ying’s messages went unanswered again.
Wei Ying stepped on the tour bus, heading to Berlin confused and restless. Their world tour was rapidly rolling through Europe now, sold out and catapulting them into further fame and bone-weary exhaustion. But with each country they visited, came another show, or two, and more interviews. They’d stop for only a few days before travelling again, but genuine rest alluded them.
Wei Ying was able to see a little of the cities as they drove through them in the tour bus, but there was definitely less joy on this trip than previous. Thankfully Wen Qing had joined them in Paris, stopping Jiang Cheng’s mental collapse and restoring calm. But her presence didn’t settle Wei Ying’s nerves.
The anxiety of having Wangji's full attention for the last few days, then losing it made him jumpy. What was Wangji doing? Who else was he messaging?
Wei Ying waited. His own social media was constantly moving, messages from fans filled the pages until it was impossible to scroll to the end. Even if he sat there for days, he would never find the end. He never replied anymore. Back when they had first begun, he would thank people for their support. He’d put up more interactive posts, suggesting things such as a local cafe or restaurant. But now he kept himself more private.
But for all his popularity, there was only one message that he cared to receive. It wasn’t until they reached Amsterdam that his phone finally beeped with what he’d been waiting for.
Wei Ying’s heart jumped. Why was he behaving like this? Like someone desperate for a scrap of attention, when he had the world at his feet. It was pathetic, yet he couldn’t stop. He wanted Wangji to speak to him. He wanted a conversation with someone. To flirt and be unsure of the response. He wanted Wangji to tell him off about his bad food choices again and remind him to stay hydrated. But more than anything, he just wanted to rant about silly problems and have someone keep him in reality. He just wanted a normal friend.
Wei Ying waited, but nothing happened. Where was the rest of the message? He refreshed the screen. Turned the app off then reloaded it. Nothing appeared.
But nothing happened. There were still only a couple words on his screen. Wangji hadn’t even read his last message asking for the message to be resent. What had happened? Wei Ying handed his phone to Wen Ning across the tour bus table. Wen Ning, who had been busy playing cards, looked surprised, but obligingly read the conversation.
“Would you…would you…what?” he asked once finished, eyes scanning over the screen.
“Exactly! What was he going to say?” Wei Ying demanded. “What was he going to ask me?”
Jiang Cheng looked up from his book and over at the screen also.
“Send nudes?” Jiang Cheng suggested, his sarcastic tone tired and bored. “Send me money. Send nudes and money?”
Wei Ying felt the annoyance inside him bubble to the surface. It burst out like water bursting through a dam.
“Why did you break up with Wen Qing?” Wei Ying asked abruptly. “If you’re such a love expert, answer that!”
“What?” Wen Ning asked, his eyes going wide and his mouth falling open. “A-jie?”
Jiang Cheng’s expression went from confused to livid. Both Jiang Cheng and Wen Ning looked towards the front of the bus, but Wen Qing had her noise cancelling earphones on as per usual and hadn’t reacted. She mostly ignored them all at the best of times anyway.
“That’s none of your business,” Jiang Cheng hissed. “Just because you have this weird stalker crush on this masked guy, doesn’t mean you get to ask about my romantic life.”
“Or lack of one!” Wei Ying retorted. “He hasn’t asked me for money or nudes. I like him, alright? He’s kind.”
Jiang Cheng grabbed the phone from Wen Ning and started reading the conversation. He appeared less angry the more he saw and finally slid the phone across the table.
“Are you both obsessed with food?” he asked, the anger and sarcasm gone from his voice. “Just be careful alright? You don’t know who he is. Worse, you’re pretending to be someone else too. This is just a distraction, right? It’s not real Wei Ying.”
Chapter 3: Chapter Three
Summary:
“I’m not against you having a relationship, Wei Ying, but it has to be the right one. It has to be someone who is going to accept your life, because your fans won’t like it and if you pick wrong, you don’t get the luxury of privacy when it’s over. The world will know, and the world will poke at you until you break,” she said.
Notes:
Thank you everyone for your comments! Please remember to show creator's style before reading to see the text messages in the text boxes!
Big thank you once again to Dove for reading for me, and for listening to my rambling ideas.
Chapter Text
Jiang Cheng said it wasn’t real, but it felt real. When Wangji returned his messages he felt such happiness, but he was inconsistent at the best of times, and this silence was deafening. It was clear now that the half message hadn’t been lost, but rather Wangji had begun to type something and had changed his mind halfway through. Only instead of deleting it, he’d likely sent it by mistake. So what had he been wanting to ask?
As if trying to drive him further into despair, Wangji continued to appear in Wei Ying’s feed constantly, stabbing jealously sharply into his gut. His own voice seemed to mock him as it sung “Ghost Heart” over and over. The lyrics taunted him with his impossible love, pining for someone unreachable, love like a ghost: fictional, out of reach. It was ironic, and it was painful to see how Wangji put so much effort into his appreciation of Yiling Laozu.
If Wangji knew Yiling Laozu was just a stupid boy waiting on a text back, would he admire him as much?
Jiang Cheng was right. Wei Ying was acting totally mad over this mystery dancer, and he needed to do something about it. He couldn’t carry on feeling like this. He couldn’t give in to misery and the longing for something that was never really his in the first place. He had more shows to do. LOTU5 still had to survive Japan and Australia before they could go home. He couldn’t crash and burn.
Wei Ying pressed send and immediately felt sick. Yet at the same time, peace began to trickle in. He’d done it. Said something. All the years of casually flirting had to go somewhere. Either Wangji messaged him back or he didn’t. There wasn’t much more Wei Ying could do.
***
Wei Ying stood watching the backstage crew running around for the final checks. He knew most of them by name now, or at least by sight. This core crew fluttered around every show, pulling things together and making sure everything was in place and flawless. He had no idea how they managed to pull it off over and over again in so many different countries, but they did.
Wei Ying smiled at one girl as she walked past him, clipboard in hand, headset on, speaking rapidly to someone. She gave him a nervous smile in return, as if surprised to have been acknowledged. Then as she carried on her way, Wei Ying’s phone pinged in his hand.
Wei Ying’s heart crashed, a boiling feeling spread over his skin, rolling up his legs, up his chest and neck, tingling through his head. It was unpleasant and inescapable, and he ran towards Wen Ning, pulling the headphones off his head.
“Wen Ning, help!” Wei Ying cried, pushing his phone screen into Wen Ning’s face. “Help, help me now!”
Wen Ning scanned the screen with his eyes slightly crossed. He moved back to look Wei Ying in the eye with his usual innocent expression. Wen Ning didn’t do drama. He liked to walk the smoothest, kindest path, and if there were ever a need for calm, it was now. Wei Ying expected him to advise Wei Ying to tell the truth, so when the reply varied away from that, he was surprised.
“Tell him that…you do.”
“What?” Wei Ying demanded, taking the phone back. He gave Wen Ning a suspicious look, as if assessing him for some sort of damage.
Tell him a lie? That wasn’t the standard good-boy Wen Ning advice at all. Maybe this comeback bad-boy persona was finally starting to corrupt him? He’d had his fair share of female attention on this trip, with lots of celebrities thinking he was cute. Lots of girls wanted to take pictures with him. Maybe it had all gone to his head?
“Tell him… yes.”
“But it’s a lie!” Wei Ying exclaimed, unable to hide his anxiety. “I can’t lie to him. That’s not fair, not when he’s so kind to me. There isn’t anyone else in the world that messages me in the middle of the night to check I've had a drink of water. I can’t lie to a person like that!”
“It…isn’t a lie.”
“But it’s not the truth either, is it? Won’t he be even more upset when he finds out?” Wei Ying reasoned. “How can I move forward from this? How can I meet him if I lie? He’ll come to our show to see someone who works here, and I’d have to be all ‘surprise, it’s me!’ ”
“When?” Wen Ning asked, taken aback. “You have…made plans to…meet him?”
Wei Ying realised what he’d said and looked over his shoulder at where Jiang Cheng was still busy talking to Wen Qing. It looked like they were discussing something about the lighting. Luckily, neither seemed to have overheard him.
“I want to meet him. One day. Even if nothing comes of it. I think I’d like to. I’ve totally taken him for granted. When he stopped messaging me, I realised how much I liked him,” Wei Ying said quietly, keeping an eye on Jiang Cheng. “Do you think that’s crazy?”
“Yeah,” Wen Ning said. But he smiled, and it was all the encouragement Wei Ying needed. “But you’re not…normal are you?”
“Your backhanded compliments are on another level lately, a-Ning.”
Feeling calmer, Wei Ying didn’t even react as he was suddenly manhandled towards the stage, his hair fussed over, his belt adjusted. He held his phone and went where he was directed. It was fine; he could pretend he worked for LOTU5. Wen Ning was right, it wasn’t an outright lie. Besides, if and when the truth did come out, Wei Ying hoped Wangji would understand why he’d done it.
Without any warning, Jiang Cheng pulled the phone from his hand, leaving Wei Ying stunned.
“You better be researching how to be a functional human,” he threatened, waving the phone around as he spoke. “Did you even drink that detox juice I gave you earlier?”
Wei Ying eyed his phone warily, wondering what he could say for Jiang Cheng to give it back. Jiang Cheng didn’t look like he was joking right now. He looked like he might even smash the phone on the floor if provoked.
“I did, and it was disgusting,” Wei Ying told him, still keeping his eyes on the phone. “What was in it? Eyeballs?”
Jiang Cheng handed the phone away to Wen Qing, who placed it immediately into her back pocket.
“Boys, this tour has been a huge success. You’re nearly at the end now, and I know you all need a good rest and want to go home. But I need full concentration for just a little longer,” Wen Qing’s eyes lingering on Wei Ying’s rabbit shirt. “Keep the energy high. These final shows before we go home are important.”
He zipped up his jacket under her scrutiny. It was doubtful that Jiang Cheng had mentioned anything about Wangji, and he knew Wen Ning wouldn’t say anything unless he was forced to. But the way Wen Qing looked at him made him think she knew something was different. She suspected something, and a high-alert Wen Qing meant trouble for him.
“Full concentration, got it,” Wei Ying said. “But just checking, we are still allowed to have fun, right?”
“You’re not here for fun,” she said coldly.
Wei Ying stared at her until she sighed.
“Yes you can have fun, that’s the whole point. Are you not having fun? Have you not had fun in America, England, France, Germany… Didn’t you challenge yourself to eat a whole baguette? I saw the video of you trying to shove it in your mouth like a rabid ferret. Have fun but please hit this hard. Especially Ghost Heart, it has to be sharp. I don’t think you understand the impact this tour has had. You probably won’t until you get home and back to reality. Just give it everything, alright?”
Wei Ying nodded. Ghost Heart was launching them stratospheric in terms of their brand identity. It was everywhere. The interviews in America, where they’d been made to feel like a joke, felt like a million years ago. The joke was on those interviewers now, having missed the opportunity to be respectful. Wen Qing had already blacklisted a few names.
He ought to be used to it, but none of their work had been in the charts globally for a while. Nothing had ever been launched prior to a world tour either. It was like existing in this weird bubble where all there was was you, your music, your voice, your people. Everyone else wanted to touch you and pull you in different directions to get close. But at the end of the day, the only safe place was being alone.
Except when he was alone he thought about Wangji and every message that had ever been sent between them.
Wei Ying shuffled his feet and prepared to jump. This contraption they kept hauling from stage to stage was lethal, and he hoped once they got home they’d scrap it. Wen Qing liked it though, so the chances were very slim. Something in her talk had pulled him from his fog. The tour was almost over, and there was no promise that another chance would ever come again. He did need to concentrate, he did need to feel the moment and remember why he was here in the first place.
“I’m going to meet that boy,” Wei Ying said determinedly, smiling to himself. “I’m going to do it.”
Wen Qing looked at him confused, Jiang Cheng disgusted, but Wen Ning smiled.
“Good…for you.”
“A boy? A boyfriend boy? What boy?” Wen Qing asked, becoming increasingly more frantic with every question. “Wei Ying, what boy? No boys! No boys ever, you hear me?”
But it was too late for her questioning. The platform clicked. Then they were moving, flying up onto the stage to a burst of sparks overhead and a roaring crowd.
With his heart light for the first time since their tour had begun, Wei Ying began to feel grounded. The crowd in front of him became more than just a few faces in the front line and a blur in the back. His eyes picked out face after face, row after row after row. He could see banners, pictures, signs, light sticks. It was just like every other show, but it felt sharper. Maybe because he was resolved. He’d find Wangji. He’d tell him the truth, and he’d thank him for his friendship. And if there was more, then he felt ready.
“Hello Tokyo!” he shouted, smiling with such enthusiasm that he heard Jiang Cheng laugh beside him.
It was just like old times again.
*
As Wei Ying lay next to Wen Ning on his hotel bed, the TV on but neither of them watching it, he felt the confusion returning. The bone-deep ache and exhaustion seeping back in. He’d felt so alive on stage, like things were good again. But it trickled away to dullness too quickly.
Wen Ning was busy eating a banana and playing on his Nintendo. Headphones on, deep concentration on his face, he was in a world of his own. But he jumped as Wei Ying sat up abruptly.
Wei Ying stared at the screen with his heart sinking. A sick feeling swilled inside him and he felt tears in his eyes. The reaction was so visceral that it took him by surprise.
“I knew it. I knew this would happen. This is why I’ve been feeling all weird since the show. I knew something was going to go wrong. He’s only interested in Wei Ying,” Wei Ying said sadly. “He doesn’t care about me now.”
Wen Ning looked at him with the most comically confused expression and switched on the bedside lamp.
“But…that’s you. You’re…Wei Ying,” he said. “Do you need…help?”
Wei Ying looked back at his phone before dropping it on the bed and putting his head in his hands. After a while he sat back up and looked at Wen Ning.
“Help? Do I need help? You mean advice or actual psychiatric assistance?”
“Either? Both?” Wen Ning asked, the worried glint in his eye impossible to ignore. “I’m…serious.”
“Wen Ning, I really think I need to go home. I’m literally going mad on this tour. I just got jealous of myself,” Wei Ying said, flopping back against the pillows. “No amount of detox juice and bananas are going to stop my increasingly intense crush. This boy has honestly scrambled my brain with his abs. You’ve seen them. Wow. Just...wow.”
Japan had broken him. Travelling from interviews, to signings, to game shows, had left him almost hallucinating. Their new nutritionist was tearing her hair out trying to get enough vitamins into them all, and had even resorted to feeding Wei Ying supplements herself when he was too exhausted to move. She’d spoon-fed him some vile green goo yesterday, while he stared unseeingly out of the tour bus window. He hadn’t the energy to resist. Then he’d slept on one of the bunks for an hour, unconscious, until Jiang Cheng had shaken him awake to go shopping.
“What…will help?” Wen Ning asked.
“Don’t know. I probably just need to sleep with him. Get it out of my system. You know—bam, bam, done. Back to reality afterwards. I think that would do it.”
“He doesn’t…sound like a bam…bam guy,” Wen Ning said. “He sounds kind.”
“Yeah. Ugh, that makes it even worse, because I swear I’m starting to really love him. What should I do? I don’t even know him! I haven’t seen his face. Jiang Cheng is right, he could be a murderer and I’m over here being dumb.”
“It’s not dumb…to like someone.”
“Thanks. I know that’s a lie, but thanks.”
A sharp knock on the door startled them both. It opened to reveal Wen Qing, who stood framed in the doorway looking like a harassed mother.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, hands on her hips as she stared at Wei Ying. “And why didn’t you tell me you liked boys? I was keeping all the girls away, and now I find out I wasted my time? Please tell me you two are not…”
Wei Ying let her rant sink into his addled brain before he answered.
“Nah, Wen Ning is just playing with himself, I’m not involved.”
Wen Ning immediately held up his switch looking appalled.
“Mario Kart,” he said, giving Wei Ying a glare. “Nothing…else. Ew.”
Wen Qing scowled at them both. Once again Wei Ying considered that Wen Qing really was the only touch of sanity any of them had. Especially when she scolded them all like a mother.
“I can’t deal with your attitude tonight, Wei Ying. A-Cheng said you’re speaking to someone and it’s getting serious? At least it is on your end? What is going on?”
“He should mind his own business,” Wei Ying said, annoyed and shuffling off the bed. “I’m going back to my room.”
He walked past her, only to be surprised when Wen Qing followed him. He could feel her wanting to speak, the air around them turned tense and Wei Ying braced himself for whatever it was she was about to say.
“I’m not against you having a relationship, Wei Ying, but it has to be the right one. It has to be someone who is going to accept your life, because your fans won’t like it and if you pick wrong, you don’t get the luxury of privacy when it’s over. The world will know, and the world will poke at you until you break,” she said.
The tension snapped and Wei Ying looked at her as they stopped outside his room. Her eyes were filled with concern. A genuine worry for him that he didn’t like to see. Wen Qing was always so sure and steady, that it was easy to forget she was a girl only slightly older than them all.
“That might be the most caring thing you’ve ever said to me,” Wei Ying said. “Thanks.”
“I care. Show me the boy,” she said, leading the way into his room.
Wei Ying obediently showed her Wangji’s Ghost Heart video. He watched her face and the small hint of emotions that flickered in her reaction. She was pretending to be calm, holding her tongue. He could see the strain of her trying to be supportive of what he knew to be absolutely ridiculous. He also had no doubt that if Jiang Cheng had told her something, he'd have told her everything.
“That’s a thirst trap Wei Ying,” she said, once it finished. “I thought you were smarter than that.”
Wei Ying took his phone back. “Thirst trap? Who is he trying to trap?”
“You probably,” Wen Qing answered. “A-Cheng told me he’s a dancer, but if he only cares about your moves and your lyrics, then I would assume he has a hyper interest in you.”
“No, he’s really nice,” Wei Ying insisted. “I promise, he’s legit. He’s not trapping anyone, least of all me. I mean, he likes me, that’s obvious. But I can’t really explain, it’s too complicated.”
“Does he ever take the mask off?” Wen Qing asked.
“Well, no,” Wei Ying confessed. “He doesn’t.”
Wen Qing looked like she wanted to say a lot more but, once again, was obviously holding herself back. Instead she began to play mother again, drawing the curtains, turning down the bed and putting a few items back into his suitcase. Wei Ying watched her folding a t-shirt into a neat square and stood in awkward silence. When there was nothing left for her to do, she turned to face him.
“I wanted to ask you something else.”
“Yeah?” Wei Ying asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. He was nervous. Her whole behaviour was so restrained that he felt he was being handled overly cautiously. Was he really looking so fragile lately that she didn’t think he could handle her words?
“There’s been a job offer for you, and I wanted to know your thoughts.”
“I’m sure you’ve already accepted it,” Wei Ying replied. If it made money Wen Qing always said yes, trotting them out like little show ponies for the right price.
“Of course. But I still want to hear your thoughts.”
“Go on,” Wei Ying prompted. Might as well hear how he was about to die as soon as possible. Forewarned was forearmed after all.
“It’s regarding the recording of a soundtrack. A very popular cultivation fantasy novel is being made into a live action show, and they’ve almost finished filming,” she explained. “To build the hype, they want you to record with a very celebrated classical musician. This is big Wei Ying. This show is going to be huge worldwide.”
Wei Ying hadn’t expected that. He’d never recorded for anything like this before and had no idea what a job like this would entail. Likely very similar to recording music for LOTU5, but he’d never worked with anyone but Jiang Cheng and Wen Ning. The whole idea made him instantly nervous.
“What musician?” he asked.
“His name is Lan Zhan. He’s considered a prodigy. Very talented,” she said. But when no recognition appeared in Wei Ying’s eyes, she continued. “I mean it, Wei Ying. You’re basically being asked to record with the modern day Mozart. I don’t know how else to explain how huge this is.”
“If you’ve already accepted the offer, then why do you want my opinion on it?” Wei Ying asked skeptically. “Since when did my opinion matter? What are you planning, is there more to this offer?”
Wen Qing looked at him, eyes sweeping up and down, the concern back in her gaze.
“Because I don’t want to kill you. I accepted when I thought things were going well, but you look…tired. I want to know if you can handle it.”
The feeling of being offended by her suggestion, battled with the knowledge that maybe she was right. He wasn’t thriving on this tour, not the way the others were. Yes they were all tired, but Jiang Cheng was still functioning. Wen Ning was still scribbling rhymes whenever he had a spare second. No one else was collapsing like he was.
“One song?” Wei Ying asked.
“Maybe two,” she countered. “Three. I’m not sure yet. The show producers will tell us more when we come home. Then it will be given to you and Lan Zhan to manage.”
“I can handle recording a couple songs,” Wei Ying replied. “But am I writing them too? Is there a timeframe for this? Is this even reasonable?”
Wen Qing shrugged.
“I don’t know yet. There will be press and the video launch. They’ll want you and Lan Zhan involved at the award shows. You’ll need to spend a lot of time with him. Photoshoots too,” she said. “But I couldn’t let this opportunity slide by. You deserve this Wei Ying. This is a chance to record serious music like you always wanted to.”
“I can handle it,” Wei Ying told her. Maybe he could, maybe he couldn’t, but there would be no knowing until he was trying anyway. Wen Qing was right, this was what he’d always wanted to do. “But why choose me for this? Why not Jiang Cheng?”
“Oh no, Jiang Cheng wouldn’t suit. They only want you. The offer is for you only.”
“But, isn’t this me going solo? You said none of us could do that for another year at least,” Wei Ying asked.
The group disbanding was Jiang Cheng’s biggest fear. He stressed about every little rumour and had interrogated Wei Ying for hours over them in the past. How would he cope with this?
“Like I said. This was too great an opportunity to let go,” Wen Qing replied, before walking to the door. “Go get in the bath, try to relax and get some rest. Look up Lan Zhan whilst you’re in there and do some research. I can assure you, Lan Zhan is no thirst trap. I think you’ll like him.”
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