Archive of Our Own

It’s half-past seven when Lan Zhan makes his way into Trastevere. The shuttle driver had instructed him to cross at the Ponte Sisto into the Piazza Trilussa, and from there, he should explore the areas surrounding the Santa Maria Basilica.

“It’s one of the oldest churches in Rome,” the driver had said. “All the way back to the 200’s. My family has been here for nine generations. The nightlife in Trastevere starts at the basilica. A beautiful church, and it comes alive at night.”

The shuttle service is by far the most valuable feature that the Duke Hotel has to offer, and Lan Zhan has noted as much in his report. The hotel is situated ten minutes outside of the city centre by car, and it would be a daunting task to attempt the journey to the Piazza Del Popolo on foot. The average tourist is mostly interested in exploring the heart of Rome, so the shuttle is an invaluable perk. If the driver’s instructions on where to go to avoid tourist traps prove fruitful, Lan Zhan will be sure to give the hotel extra credit in his evaluation.

Lan Zhan is more than happy to spend his final night in Rome free of the hotel and its lacklustre room service. He finds himself instead at the busiest restaurant in a small, nondescript square, its patio bursting with life and its interior crowded to overflowing. He requests a seat on the patio, eager to pay premium price to avoid the clutter of the indoor setting.

“Do you mind sharing a table?” the host asks. “If you don’t mind, you can be seated immediately.”

“I do not mind,” Lan Zhan assures him.

Part of travelling alone is dining alone, but occasionally it means dining in forced company, neither of which is pleasant for the average traveller, but Lan Zhan is far past the point of being self-conscious. Life as a hotel reviewer has made him immune to such insecurities, and while he thrives on being alone, he is not opposed to making the acquaintance of strangers. A part of him enjoys it, knowing that the contact is ephemeral, that a forced intimacy has a time limit of a meal, or a drink, or sometimes, a tryst. 

The host escorts him to the side of the patio and seats him at a small table where one other man is already dining. Lan Zhan slides smoothly into the adjacent seat, situating himself so that he can see the rest of the patio, and so that he and his new companion will not be forced to stare at each other for the duration of their dinner. He nods at the man in greeting, and in return, he receives the most brilliant smile he has ever seen.

“Hi!” the man greets him in English, before slipping into Mandarin. “My name’s Wei Ying.”

“Lan Wangji,” Lan Zhan replies, struck by the play of light across the flecks of grey in Wei Ying’s eyes.

“Pleased to meet you, Lan Wangji,” Wei Ying smiles, and it’s like the clouds parting on a rainy day to let the sun shine through. Lan Zhan feels a slight tremor behind his ribcage.

“Likewise,” Lan Zhan says. It’s an effort to tear his eyes away from Wei Ying’s face to give the patio a cursory sweep.

“First time in Rome?” Wei Ying asks, taking a sip of his wine.

“No,” Lan Zhan answers, sweeping his gaze back to Wei Ying, lingering on the glimpse of Wei Ying’s collarbone where his shirt dips down to reveal it. “My second.”

“And how did you find your way here?” Wei Ying asks. “It’s a little off the beaten path for the average tourist.”

“A tip from the shuttle driver at the hotel where I am staying,” Lan Zhan says.  “He suggested the area for dining and recommended I see the basilica square at night.”

“Good tip,” Wei Ying grins. “You’ve found yourself a real gem. This place is great. The guy who seated you? That’s the owner. He’s an absolute master of hospitality. Speaks like six languages, if not more. Always greets me in perfect Mandarin. I guarantee he sat you with me because he knew we could talk to each other.”

“You come here often, then?” Lan Zhan asks.

“It’s one of my favourite spots,” Wei Ying nods. “I like to try lots of new places, of course, but it’s nice to have a go-to haunt for layovers. I’m a flight attendant,” he explains.

“Ah,” Lan Zhan says. “So you have been to Rome often.”

“It’s one of my regular routes, yeah,” Wei Ying replies. “I did mostly Asian flights for the first few years, but now I’m on staff for Europe. Finally get to use my French!”

“You speak French?” Lan Zhan asks, intrigued.

“Yep,” Wei Ying says. “English, French and Mandarin. Studying Japanese.”

“Impressive,” Lan Zhan says, and he means it.

“I grew up in Canada,” Wei Ying explains. “My parents enrolled me in French immersion with the dream of me getting a government job one day,” he laughs.

“Ah,” Lan Zhan says again. “A dream you elected not to pursue, I take it.”

“Oh, I’m a massive disappointment,” Wei Ying grins. “Huge. Not to my parents, though. They didn’t live long enough to see me flame out, unfortunately.”

“I’m sorry,” Lan Zhan says, surprised at Wei Ying’s casual tone, but mesmerized by his easy candor. “I had no idea.”

Wei Ying waves away his concern. “It was a long time ago. I was raised by my father’s close friend, so I got to disappoint him and his wife, instead.”

“I see,” says Lan Zhan. He is intimately familiar with having disappointed familial expectations. He wonders if Wei Ying’s choice to leave the path that had been set out for him had been in rebellion. He wonders if they have that in common.

“And what about you?” Wei Ying asks. “What brings you to Rome? Is it business or pleasure?”

“Business,” Lan Zhan replies. “But one need not exclude the other.”

“Good point,” Wei Ying smiles, eyes twinkling. “I’m guessing you travel often for work, then.”

“I do,” Lan Zhan confirms. “Rome concludes my round of travel this time. I will be flying home in the morning.”

“And where is home?” Wei Ying wants to know.

“New York,” Lan Zhan says.

“Not too far from me, then!” Wei Ying exclaims. “Well, relatively speaking. I’m based out of Toronto, at least for now.”

“Oh?” Lan Zhan asks. “Will you be relocating?”

“If I play my cards right, yeah,” Wei Ying says. “I’m looking to move to Paris so I can work the second leg of our international flights.”

“That will be quite the move,” Lan Zhan observes.

“It will be,” Wei Ying agrees. “But I’m itching for a change. A big one this time. Can’t stay in one place for too long, you know?”

“I do,” Lan Zhan agrees. His apartment in New York only sees him for two weeks at a time. Often less.

“I had a feeling you might,” Wei Ying smiles, his tone almost conspiratorial. “What is it you do that has you travelling so often?”

“I am a personal brand consultant,” Lan Zhan replies. The lie comes smoothly, as it always does, but Lan Zhan cannot help the pang of remorse that accompanies it. His job necessitates some level of deception, and he has never regretted it before now, but something about Wei Ying’s open and honest demeanor strikes a chord with him, and Lan Zhan finds himself wishing that he could reciprocate his sincerity.

“Sounds fancy,” Wei Ying says, his smile quirked sideways. “What does that entail?”

“Many things, depending on what the client is looking for,” Lan Zhan says. “But in general, I provide strategies to ensure that your personal brand will last in the ever-evolving virtual environment.”

“So, you’re responsible for helping influencers be extra annoying, then?” Wei Ying quips.

“Quite the opposite, I hope,” Lan Zhan replies. “The goal is to ingratiate and engage, not annoy. I am not of the belief that any press is good press.”

“I see,” Wei Ying muses. “But perhaps you could turn bad press around?”

“I would try my best, but I would most likely refer the client to a PR expert, instead.” Lan Zhan says.

“Any tips for my struggling Instagram account?” Wei Ying tries.

“I would have to execute a personal brand audit in order to give you any professional advice,” Lan Zhan says smoothly. “But I would hazard a guess that your selfies generate the most traffic.”

Wei Ying’s laughter is loud and delighted, a faint blush dusted across his cheeks. It’s perfectly charming, Lan Zhan thinks.

“Good guess,” Wei Ying winks, the peals of his laughter dissolving into the chatter of the patio. “I guess I must be doing something right with those.”

“Indeed,” Lan Zhan agrees, and he lets his eyes rove over Wei Ying’s form, his eyelids dipping down before slowly coming back up again. Wei Ying watches him in turn, his eyes wide and shining, clearly pleased with the attention.

“So,” Wei Ying drawls. “You like what you’ve seen?”

Lan Zhan raises an eyebrow at him.

“In Rome, I mean,” Wei Ying adds, eyes twinkling.

“I do,” Lan Zhan says. “I’ve found it all very pleasing. My work keeps me very busy, but I do make time to enjoy myself.”

“Like now?” Wei Ying prompts.

“Like now,” Lan Zhan confirms, making sure to hold eye contact.

Wei Ying is the first to look away, smiling and ducking his head to take a sip of his wine.

The server arrives to take his order and Lan Zhan realizes that he hasn’t so much as glanced at the menu. He has no idea what he wants aside from sparkling water.

“You say you come here often,” Lan Zhan says to Wei Ying, switching easily into English. “What would you recommend for a pescatarian?”

“Dairy okay?” Wei Ying asks with a smile.

Lan Zhan nods.

“He’ll have the marinara suppli, the carciofi alla romana, and then the cacio e pepe,” Wei Ying says. “All Roman specialties,” he winks.

“Thank you,” Lan Zhan says, and the server nods and departs.

“I hope you won’t be horrified by what I’ve ordered for myself,” Wei Ying says, sounding apologetic. “Coda alla vaccinara is the opposite of vegetarian.”

“I have no objection to anyone eating meat. It is only a personal preference for myself,” Lan Zhan assures him.

“Oh, good,” Wei Ying laughs. “I was worried you might want to switch tables.”

“Ridiculous,” Lan Zhan says, the hint of a smile in his voice. “I am quite happy here, Wei Ying.”

“I’m so glad,” Wei Ying smiles, and it’s pure sunshine.

Dinner is an exquisitely simple combination of flavours and textures. The satisfying crispness of the suppli and the lightly simmered artichokes are the perfect complement to the smooth, salty pasta. Wei Ying feasts on his deliciously aromatic oxtails, never once pausing in his spirited conversation. He tells Lan Zhan all about the adventures he has time for on layovers, his favourite cities to be stuck in, and all the things he is looking forward to if the move to Paris goes through.

“People either love or hate Paris, and I happen to love it,” Wei Ying enthuses, washing down the final bite of his dinner with the last of his wine. “Sure, there’s a lot of tourists and tourist traps, but at least there’s no shortage of things to do, and I’ve never had a bad meal there. Have you been to Paris?”

“I have, a handful of times,” Lan Zhan confirms.

“I bet there are plenty of wannabe fashion influencers clamouring for your services there,” Wei Ying grins.

“I cannot discuss my clients,” Lan Zhan demurs. “I’m sure you understand that discretion is paramount when it comes to personal branding.”

“Of course,” Wei Ying laughs, not at all put out. “Can’t possibly risk being seen as inauthentic, right?”

“Certainly not,” Lan Zhan agrees.

“How do you balance that?” Wei Ying asks. “Contrivance is unavoidable in late-stage capitalism, wouldn’t you say? Everyone is selling something and the audience is all just potential consumers to these people. How do you stay honest?”

“It’s important to maintain some level of spontaneity,” Lan Zhan replies.

Wei Ying quirks a mischievous smile at him. “Is that something you practice for yourself?”

“Sometimes,” Lan Zhan allows. “If I feel like it.”

“And what about now?” Wei Ying asks. “Do you feel like it?”

“Very,” Lan Zhan says, voice deadly serious. He holds Wei Ying’s gaze as Wei Ying’s smile spreads across his face.

“Well,” Wei Ying says. “In that case, once you’re done at the Basilica, I suggest you head back to the river after dusk. There’ll be a small market there, and a few lovely spots to get a drink, if you’re so inclined.”

“I am not, unfortunately,” Lan Zhan says. “At least,” he adds, “not without company.”

“Ah,” Wei Ying says, smile growing wistful. “The struggle of the perpetually jet set.” His sparkling eyes linger on Lan Zhan’s face before he sighs and retrieves his phone from his pocket.

“Well,” Wei Ying says, checking the time. “I hope you find someone equally spontaneous tonight. I myself must turn into a pumpkin now. I have a very early flight to work tomorrow.”

“I see,” Lan Zhan says quietly, tamping down on the swell of disappointment he feels at those words.

“It was nice to meet you, Lan Wangji,” Wei Ying smiles. “I hope your trip home is a safe one.”

“Likewise,” Lan Zhan says.

Wei Ying stands to take his leave, smiling with what Lan Zhan hopes is a hint of regret, and then he is headed inside to pay his bill. When he re-emerges, he stops by the table one last time. 

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, Lan Wangji,” he says with a wave, and then he is off, back into the crowded square. Lan Zhan watches him go, disappointment mingled with a wistful fondness until Wei Ying disappears from his sight.

He finishes off his sparkling water and goes inside to pay, only to find that his meal has already been taken care of.

“Your dinner companion paid the bill in full,” the owner tells him. “Gratuity included.”

“Thank you,” Lan Zhan says, pleasantly surprised by the unnecessary gesture.

He rolls the encounter over in his mind as he walks along the river that night, replaying every smile, every mischievous wink. Later that night, back at the hotel, a cursory search of Instagram yields no results; he must be using a pseudonym, Lan Wangji muses. He drifts off to sleep with the sound of Wei Ying’s golden laughter echoing in his ears.

Wei Ying, he thinks.

Wei Ying.

---

La Boqueria is bustling with an almost overwhelming amount of people, but Lan Zhan weaves his way through the market stalls, deftly avoiding contact with meandering passersby in search of inspiration for the afternoon. He’s done with his preliminary report on the hotel amenities, and he’s made a suitable sort of mess in his room before leaving for the day, so now he is free to wander until he has to figure out what to do for dinner. Room service is a must-do, but he has two more nights to kill, and the weather is especially nice today after a deluge of rain yesterday, so Lan Zhan is eager to be outside.

“I don’t believe it,” says a hauntingly familiar voice to his left, and Lan Zhan turns to face a pair of laughing grey eyes and a brilliant smile.

“Lan Wangji!” Wei Ying exclaims, all joy and excitement. “What are the odds?”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, voice just a touch breathless.

“You remember me, then?” Wei Ying says eagerly.

“Of course,” Lan Zhan replies. It’s been a month since their first encounter, and Lan Zhan has been unable to fall asleep without thinking about Wei Ying’s laughter at least once every night. Lan Zhan doesn’t think he could forget Wei Ying if he tried.

“I’m so glad,” Wei Ying enthuses. “That was the best meal I had on that trip!”

“Likewise,” Lan Zhan agrees. He feels warmth spreading from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. “You are on layover again?”

“I am,” Wei Ying says cheerfully. “I fly out tomorrow, but I’m here for the night.”

“Have dinner with me again,” Lan Zhan says. It’s a bit abrupt, perhaps, but Lan Zhan refuses to regret not taking the opportunity.

Wei Ying’s face falls, and Lan Zhan can feel the shadow of dismay closing in on his heart.

“I wish I could,” Wei Ying says, and he sounds painfully sincere. “But I have plans already. I’m visiting a friend who moved to Barcelona last year, and this is the only time our schedules are going to align for at least three months.”

“I understand,” Lan Zhan says, voice carefully pitched to hide his disappointment.

Wei Ying studies him for a moment, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Tell you what,” Wei Ying says. “Keep me company this afternoon while I run some errands? If you’re not already busy, that is,” he adds quickly.

“I am not,” Lan Zhan assures him, hope sparking anew. “I would be happy to accompany you.”

Wei Ying’s smile spreads across his face, as sweetly as a sunrise.

“Great!” Wei Ying exclaims. “Let’s go this way,” he says, gesturing toward a bustling cansaladeria. “I have to pick up some charcuterie for dinner tonight. Oh, and a bottle of wine to go with it, of course.”

“Of course,” Lan Zhan says, falling into step beside Wei Ying.

Once inside the shop, Wei Ying requests generous portions of jamon iberico and lomo embuchado, chorizo and butifarra. Next on the list is cheese, so they visit a queseria, and Wei Ying adds a wedge of aged Manchego, a small round of Cabrales, and a slab of Zamorano to his haul. Olives and pickled peppers and membrillo are selected as accents, and soon Wei Ying’s bag is heavy with his spoils. Lan Zhan silently takes it from him as he goes to pay, and he neglects to give it back to him as they head to El Celler de la Boqueria to select a bottle of wine, Wei Ying chattering cheerfully the whole time.

“What do you think, Lan Wangji?” Wei Ying says, sniffing at a sample of Tempranillo. “I love reds, but my host is more into whites.”

“I would suggest a Cava,” Lan Zhan says. “The acidity and bubbles will refresh your palette from the salted, fatty meats.”

“You know a lot about wine pairings for someone who doesn’t eat meat,” Wei Ying laughs. “Or, I suspect, drinks?”

“You are correct,” Lan Zhan confirms. “I have taken several wine courses, and I appreciate the art of food pairings, but I do not partake.”

“How very fancy of you,” Wei Ying quips, but there’s no judgement there, only mild amusement. “I suppose that kind of thing would come in handy if you’re dealing with fancy people all the time.”

“It does,” Lan Zhan says, the faintest hint of a smile in his voice. “Try this one,” he says, indicating a bottle on the shelf behind Wei Ying.

“An excellent choice,” the proprietor agrees. “Wonderful for a wide array of charcuterie.”

“Sold,” Wei Ying smiles, fishing out his wallet and fumbling for the money.

“Let me,” Lan Zhan offers, staying Wei Ying’s hand. “I still owe you for the dinner.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” Wei Ying protests. “You don’t owe me anything. I was just happy for your company that night.”

“And I am happy for your company today,” Lan Zhan assures him, gratified by the slight flush that suffuses Wei Ying’s cheeks in response.

“You really don’t have to,” Wei Ying insists.

“I would like to,” Lan Zhan says firmly. “Allow me to do this for you, Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying watches him silently for a few moments before finally relenting.

“All right,” he says quietly, suddenly almost shy.

Lan Zhan pays for the wine, and Wei Ying carries it out of the shop. Lan Zhan is still carrying the rest of Wei Ying’s purchases, and they walk slowly to the entrance of the market together, Wei Ying uncharacteristically quiet this time. Once they are outside again, Wei Ying turns to face him, and Lan Zhan has to catch his breath at how stunning he is in the late afternoon sunlight.

“Well,” Wei Ying says, smile wide and brilliant again. “Thank you for hanging out with me today. And thank you for the wine.”

“You are very welcome,” Lan Zhan says, and he means it.

The thrum of people is thick around them, but Lan Zhan’s awareness is full of Wei Ying. He is more radiant in his ripped jeans and his simple black t-shirt than all the well-heeled tourists flocking by in their designer clothes, and Lan Zhan drinks him in one detail at a time, lingering on the red ribbon he’s used to tie his hair into a ponytail.

Wei Ying reaches out to take his bag back, and Lan Zhan relinquishes his hold on it, letting their fingers brush together as he does so. Wei Ying studies him for a moment longer before speaking.

“I got my transfer,” Wei Ying tells him. “I’m officially moving to Paris next month.”

“Congratulations,” Lan Zhan says. “That is what you wanted, is it not?”

“It is,” Wei Ying replies. “I just wanted you to know. If you’re ever in Paris, you can look me up.”

“I would like that,” Lan Zhan says. “How can I contact you?”

“I’ll let you know,” Wei Ying winks. “I should get going. Thanks for a great afternoon, Lan Wangji.”

“It was my pleasure,” Lan Zhan replies.

“See you again sometime,” Wei Ying waves as he begins to walk away.

“See you, Wei Ying.”

Lan Zhan misses him already.

---

Later that evening, Lan Zhan has an uninspiring dinner at the hotel restaurant. He has an even less inspiring stint at the hotel bar afterward. Lan Zhan often engages someone at the bar of the hotel he is reviewing. Buying someone a drink is the perfect opportunity to evaluate the service and get a detailed description of the cocktails on offer. He will guide his companions through the stages of tasting their drink, mentally noting their reactions for later perusal as he writes his reports. Sometimes, a conversation with a beautiful man is interesting enough to warrant an invitation to his room, and Lan Zhan has no shortage of accepted offers.

But tonight, no one can hold his attention. His thoughts are full of Wei Ying, and Wei Ying only. It’s Wei Ying that he wishes was sitting across from him, grey eyes alight with laughter. It’s Wei Ying that he wants to take back to his room.

The notification light goes off on his phone, and Lan Zhan swipes it open to find a new message on his Instagram. He has a new follower, @suibian, and they want to send him a message. Their profile picture is a lotus blossom, and Lan Zhan clicks almost absently on the link. He only has to scroll for a moment before realization strikes.

Wei Ying smiles back at him from the screen, sun-soaked and happy on some glorious tropical beach. There is a smattering of selfies interspersed with shots of gourmet food and cloudscapes, and each one Lan Zhan finds more enticing than the last. Wei Ying’s effervescent smile beckons to him from Paris, from Italy, from Spain. From Canada to Japan to China and back again.

Lan Zhan clicks to follow him, then he swipes into his messages and accepts the request from suibian.

suibian: hi, lan wangji! it’s me, wei ying. i stalked you on google, hope you don’t mind!

L.Wangji: Hello, Wei Ying. Thank you for making contact.

suibian: hahah, you make it sound like i’m an alien!

L.Wangji: Not at all. I am happy you reached out.

suibian: your account is amazing but you have no selfies. had to dig a bit to make sure it was you

L.Wangji: I apologize. I do not wish to be featured on my social media.

suibian: would you say that’s a part of your personal brand? 😊

L.Wangji: Yes.

suibian: hahaha, okay 😉

suibian: i had a great time today. you’re really great

Lan Zhan stares at his phone, his heart rabbiting in his chest. He’s thrilled, but a part of him feels guilty. He is not who he says he is on social media. His carefully constructed accounts are only meant to obfuscate his real profession. He has no online presence as just himself, not even on a private profile.

suibian: i mean it, you know. if you’re ever in paris, look me up

suibian: i’ll make sure you have fun, i promise

Lan Zhan types out his reply, and he doesn’t hesitate to hit send.

L.Wangji: Mark your words.

---

Paris in the springtime means unpredictable weather, but Lan Zhan eyes the dark grey storm clouds outside his window without too much apprehension. The patio at the hotel is at least partially covered, and even a sudden deluge of rain will not deter him from dining outside. He only hopes that it will not discourage Wei Ying from joining him.

Lan Zhan had messaged him the moment he’d landed yesterday afternoon, inviting him to lunch at the hotel the next day. Wei Ying had responded with enthusiasm, promising not to be late. He is fortuitously between flights at the moment, so there is no need to be rushing away this time.

Lan Zhan is almost nervous with anticipation. In the months since their last encounter, they’ve messaged frequently and intensely, their conversations spiralling late into the night across several time zones. It’s the only thing that Lan Zhan allows to disrupt his draconian sleep schedule when he is at home, and he has sacrificed many hours of sleep to Wei Ying’s seemingly insatiable need for discussion. It’s out of character for Lan Zhan to be so chatty, but with Wei Ying, the correspondence comes easily, and he finds himself looking forward to the next deluge of messages.

He is at once eager to see Wei Ying face to face, and a little worried about what he has to say. It’s an easy decision, deciding to be completely honest with Wei Ying; it feels like the only right thing to do if they are to continue their acquaintance, and Lan Zhan longs to be completely transparent. But the reveal must be handled delicately, lest Wei Ying feels betrayed at being deceived. Lan Zhan has steeled himself against an unfavourable outcome, but he hopes the fact that they’ve established a rapport that never actually includes discussion of Lan Zhan’s work will help to soothe the sting of the deception.

Noon rolls around and Lan Zhan is seated on the patio waiting for Wei Ying to arrive. He doesn’t have to wait long, and soon he spies Wei Ying strolling up to the entrance with an umbrella in hand. Lan Zhan watches him approach as the host ushers him to the table, and he stands to greet him as Wei Ying smiles in recognition.

“Lan Wangji!” Wei Ying exclaims, vibrant and elated. “So good to actually see you again!”

“Likewise,” says Lan Zhan, taking his seat again as Wei Ying drops into his own chair. “Thank you for making the time to have lunch with me today.”

“So formal, Lan Wangji,” Wei Ying teases. “This isn’t a business lunch, is it?”

“No,” Lan Zhan assures him. “But there is something I would like to discuss with you.”

“Sounds serious,” Wei Ying says, eyebrows raised in amusement. “I hope you’re not going to tell me something terrible, like you’ve only got three months to live and this is the last time I’ll ever see you.”

The server chooses that moment to interrupt them, and they quickly place their drink orders. Sparkling water for Lan Zhan, and a glass of Pastis over ice for Wei Ying.

“That would be unfortunate, but no, it is nothing like that,” Lan Zhan replies as the server withdraws. “But I am afraid I haven’t been completely honest with you. I’d like to rectify that.”

“Oh?” Wei Ying asks. “Don’t tell me you’re a secret government agent who’s been spying on me this whole time. My eco-terrorism days are over, I swear.”

“Not exactly,” Lan Zhan almost smiles, charmed by Wei Ying’s fast-talking humour. “I do not work for the government.”

“But you are a secret agent?” Wei Ying presses, leaning eagerly across the table. “Please say yes, I’ve always wanted to be friends with a spy.”

“Yes, I suppose, after a fashion,” Lan Zhan allows, and Wei Ying’s grin gets wider. “I am a hotel reviewer.”

“I knew it!” Wei Ying crows. “I knew you were hiding something! I just didn’t know what. I know mystery is like your thing, or whatever, but I couldn’t help but be a little suspicious of a personal brand consultant without a website. I mean, I suppose if you really did work with high-end clients, they wouldn’t actually want you to advertise,” he reasons.

Lan Zhan nods in agreement. “I do have some experience in those circles. People like that do not wish to appear dependant on the people who make their lives appear more glamourous than they actually are, nor do they wish to seem contrived.”

“Which is basically impossible, but you seem to have managed it yourself,” Wei Ying enthuses. “You certainly have a huge Instagram following who don’t appear to be bots, which is impressive without a face behind it. Especially one as pretty as yours,” he rambles on. “I bet if you posted a selfie, your account would explode. But I guess you can’t do that?”

“No,” Lan Zhan confirms. “The whole point is to remain incognito. Lan Wangji is just an alias, and it would not do to have my face attached to his name.”

“I love this,” Wei Ying gushes. “I absolutely love this. Do you have a fake ID?”

“I do,” Lan Zhan replies. “And a credit card in his name.”

“And no one has traced all his bookings in like a gazillion hotels?”

“Not that I know of,” Lan Zhan says. “I do my best to remain unexceptional during my stays, outside of having to make a minor mess of the room to evaluate the cleaning staff. Difficult customers stand out more than the courteous ones, as do big spenders in the best suites.”

“So, do you ever get to review the top suites? The real VIP rooms?” Wei Ying wants to know. “Or is that too suspicious?”

“I occasionally get assigned the executive suite, but it is not a common occurrence,” Lan Zhan admits. “We most often need to experience the hotel as the average guest.”

“Average in this case being pretty affluent?” Wei Ying hazards. “This place seems pretty swanky.”

“Correct,” Lan Zhan affirms. “I specialize in four and five-star hotels.”

“Wow,” Wei Ying says, leaning back in his chair. “So, you’re like a Michelin star evaluator but for hotels.”

“Essentially, yes,” Lan Zhan says.

“That sounds like a traveller’s dream,” Wei Ying sighs. “How often are you on the road?”

“I travel up to three weeks per month,” Lan Zhan answers.

“And that doesn’t get tiresome?” Wei Ying asks.

“Parts of it do,” Lan Zhan admits. “But on the whole, I prefer it to a more traditional lifestyle.”

“Why?” Wei Ying asks, direct as always.

Lan Zhan considers his reply. “I found a more typical career to be too restrictive for me. My family is very traditional, and I was expected to follow a predictable path. My uncle had hoped I would choose a career in academia, as he had, but I did not wish to follow in his footsteps.”

“Hmm,” Wei Ying muses. “I can understand that. I take it your family isn’t thrilled with your choices?”

“They are not,” Lan Zhan confirms. “But they have made peace with it.”

It’s true enough, Lan Zhan thinks. He knows that his uncle harbours not-so-secret hopes that Lan Zhan will settle down soon, that he will establish himself somewhere he can put down roots, but Lan Zhan resists the idea. He knows that what his uncle really wants is for Lan Zhan to start a family of his own, but Lan Zhan cannot picture it. Refuses to picture it, maybe. He prefers his rootless existence, away from the shadow of his parents’ failed marriage and their short, tragic lives.

“Well, I know what that’s like,” Wei Ying smiles ruefully. “Although I’m not sure Auntie Yu is ever going to make peace with me about anything. She spent years yelling at me to get out, and now that I’m a flight attendant, she complains that I never visit! It’s even worse now that I’m in Paris, because she keeps threatening to visit me, instead,” he laughs.

“Indeed,” Lan Zhan says, allowing himself the barest hint of a smile. “You do not relish the idea of entertaining family here, then?”

Wei Ying shakes his head. “It’s just Auntie Yu I’m not keen on seeing. I’d be happy to have my brother and sister here. Especially my sister, but she just had a baby, so I won’t get to see her out here for a few years, probably. I’m trying to make time to visit her this summer.”

“I see,” says Lan Zhan. “Is she back in Toronto?”

“Vancouver,” Wei Ying says. “She and her husband moved over there last year for his business. His family is in real estate, so Vancouver is the place to be for overpriced houses and speculation.”

“I have heard that, yes,” Lan Zhan says, amused again at Wei Ying’s flippant tone.

“It’s disgusting, to be honest, but what’s good for him is good for my sister, I guess, so I have to give him that,” Wei Ying says begrudgingly. “And Vancouver is a nice city to be stuck in sometimes, so an extended stay for me won’t be a hardship.”

“What would be a hardship for you?” Lan Zhan wonders.

The server arrives with their drinks, and Wei Ying contemplates the question while Lan Zhan places an order for spinach quiche.  Wei Ying opts for a croque Poilane and a carafe of the house red Bordeaux.

“I think,” Wei Ying begins as the server departs, “that it’s a hardship not to have a solid base to come back to. Wherever I am, I need a soft place to land when I get home.”

“And do you have that here in Paris?” Lan Zhan wants to know.

“I do, I think,” Wei Ying replies. “It’s still a work in progress, but my apartment is shaping up nicely. I have a whole assortment of plants that are hard to kill and a growing collection of re-finished furniture. It’s eclectic, but that’s kind of my thing. It’s cozy,” he says.

“Does it see much company?” Lan Zhan asks, curious to a fault about the response.

“Occasionally,” Wei Ying replies. “I’m making new friends here as fast as I can. I don’t want to get lonely, after all. Do you get lonely?” he suddenly asks.

“No,” Lan Zhan says. “I do not.”

“Never?” Wei Ying asks, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “But you’re away from home so often, travelling alone. That’s never something that bothers you?”

“I prefer my own company,” Lan Zhan says. His apartment in New York is just a place to sleep and recalibrate before his next assignment.

“Then why seek me out?” Wei Ying challenges, his smile lopsided.

“There are exceptions,” Lan Zhan smoothly replies. “You are very pleasant company, Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying laughs, delighted and slightly flushed at the praise.

“I’m glad you think so,” Wei Ying says. “I enjoy our chats. Tell me something. What made you decide to come clean about your job? Why did you tell me what you really do?”

“I thought it was only right if we were to continue our association,” Lan Zhan says. “You have been nothing but honest with me. I wanted to reciprocate.”

“How can you be sure I’m not just a giant catfish scheme targeting well-dressed men abroad?” Wei Ying asks with a mischievous grin.

“You have had ample chance to take advantage of me,” Lan Zhan says. “And you have not,” he adds pointedly.

Wei Ying laughs, light and joyful, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. “I suppose I have,” Wei Ying allows. “I’d be a lousy con artist, though. I’m a terrible liar. I couldn’t even keep my brother’s surprise 30^th birthday party a secret last year. Auntie Yu almost skinned me alive for it.”

Lan Zhan studies him as the server arrives to drop off their food. Wei Ying is smiling, his manner friendly and open. There is nothing guarded about him, no reproach at Lan Zhan’s subterfuge. Lan Zhan is more relieved than he’d like to admit that the conversation has gone so well. He would have been loath to lose Wei Ying’s friendship. The knowledge that their acquaintance will continue its course toward something like intimacy warms him from the inside out, and Lan Zhan wonders at himself. He is not in the habit of forming romantic attachments; he has never developed one at all. But he can no longer deny that his attraction goes deeper than the desire for a one-night stand. He wants something from Wei Ying, something that he can’t quite identify yet.

“Don’t worry, though,” Wei Ying is saying. “Your secret is safe with me, because I don’t think anyone is going to interrogate me about it, not like my brother did about his birthday. If anyone asks, you’re just Lan Wangji, personal brand consultant to the rich and famous.”

“I appreciate that,” Lan Zhan says. “I do apologize for the initial deception, but I am glad you recognize why it was necessary.”

“I do,” Wei Ying agrees. “But I must admit, I was worried for a second you were just going to tell me to stop harassing you and go away.”

“Why would I do that?” Lan Zhan asks, curious.

“I can be a lot, I know,” Wei Ying admits. “And I’ve been messaging you constantly at all hours of the day. I thought maybe you were getting sick of me.”

“In that case, inviting you for lunch would seem somewhat counterintuitive,” Lan Zhan points out.

“I guess so,” Wei Ying laughs. “I’m obviously not the most logical thinker sometimes. My imagination runs away from me now and again.”

“Is it running anywhere in particular?” Lan Zhan wants to know.

“At the moment? Not really,” Wei Ying smiles. “I’ve already discovered that my handsome travel acquaintance is a secret agent today. It doesn’t get much better than that.”

“Indeed,” Lan Zhan says, allowing for a small quirk of his lips. “What if I were to offer you something that might, in fact, make it better?”

“Oh, really?” asks Wei Ying, eyes wide and sparkling. “What could that possibly be?”

“My job allows for certain perks,” Lan Zhan begins. “There are some destinations, resorts and the like, that it would be unusual to visit alone. I am, therefore, permitted to take someone with me. I usually take my brother, but he is unavailable for my next assignment.”

“And where is that?” Wei Ying asks.

“The French Riviera,” Lan Zhan replies. “Saint-Tropez, to be exact. The Hotel de Paris.”

“You’re offering me a vacation?” Wei Ying asks. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan answers. “Three nights. Friday through Sunday, two months from now. All expenses paid.”

“Peak times, too?” Wei Ying gapes. “That’s amazing. Are you sure you want to take me?” Wei Ying asks. “In some ways, we barely know each other.”

“I told you already,” Lan Zhan says. “I find your company extremely pleasant. And, I admit, that is rare for me.”

“How rare?” Wei Ying demands.

“Very,” Lan Zhan replies. “I do not normally travel with anyone but my brother.”

Wei Ying regards him seriously, a muscle working in his jaw. It’s as if he is literally chewing on his thoughts.

“I’ve never been to the French Riviera,” Wei Ying says slowly. “And it would be nice to see it for free.”

“It would,” Lan Zhan agrees. “Consider it an apology for not being honest with you from the beginning.”

Wei Ying huffs out an incredulous laugh. “That’s one hell of an apology,” he says. “You sure about this?”

“I am,” Lan Zhan confirms. “I am sure, Wei Ying.”

The rain has stopped, and foot traffic has picked up. The hotel patio is starting to fill up as more guests adventure out of their rooms. Well dressed patrons have arrived for their business lunches, and the restaurant is abuzz with energy. Lan Zhan watches Wei Ying, the brightest spot amidst the hum of activity, and he waits.

Finally, Wei Ying speaks.

“Okay,” Wei Ying says. “I accept. On one condition.”

“And that is?” Lan Zhan prompts.

“What’s your real name?” Wei Ying asks, smile crooked and eyes twinkling.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, and he watches as Wei Ying’s shoulders relax.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying repeats, and Lan Zhan loves the sound of it in his sonorous voice. “Pleased to finally meet you, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan nods at him, and Wei Ying smiles his brilliant smile in return. Lan Zhan can feel the last vestiges of his nervousness evaporate, the space between them free of all deceptions. It’s a relief, and a joy, to know that there is trust between them now.

“So, how does the travel work?” Wei Ying asks. “Do I have to leave from New York with you?”

“I can arrange to have you meet me there,” Lan Zhan assures him. “No need to cross an ocean twice.”

“Oh, good,” Wei Ying grins. “Better a two-hour flight than a nine-hour one.”

“Very true,” Lan Zhan agrees. “I will meet you at the Nice Cote d’Azur airport, and we will go together from there.”

“I can’t believe this is happening to me,” Wei Ying laughs. He raises his wine glass in a toast. “Here’s to random encounters, Lan Zhan.”

“Cheers,” Lan Zhan nods, and he takes a sip of his water, holding Wei Ying’s gaze the whole time.

He tells himself not to expect anything. Wei Ying owes him nothing; the offer of a free trip is entirely sincere. It’s true that his brother is not available, and he wasn’t lying when he said he enjoys Wei Ying’s company.

But still, a part of him hopes.

He carries that hope to bed with him that night, stored somewhere in a corner of his heart that he’s never used before.

---

Airports can be stressful, but Lan Zhan has always found them calming. They are a holding space, a small breather between one place and the next. Lan Zhan is a patient person, and he has grown accustomed to long waits and unexpected delays, learning to make the most of his time between destinations. For now, he is seated at a table in a Peruvian restaurant and enjoying a sea bass ceviche while waiting for Wei Ying’s flight to land.

The thought of seeing Wei Ying again has fuelled the last two months of meticulous planning, and Lan Zhan is thrumming with anticipation. They’ve been messaging in the interim, of course, and Wei Ying has been a fountain of enthusiasm, bubbling over with excitement as the date drew nearer. Lan Zhan has assured Wei Ying that he’s taken care of everything, that all Wei Ying has to do is show up, and Wei Ying has been happy to let Lan Zhan organize all the details.

It’s an arrangement that suits him, Lan Zhan knows. He prefers to be in charge, in this and all things, and he is grateful that Wei Ying seems content to let him take control. He cautions himself one more time against having any expectations, but as Wei Ying comes through the arrivals gate, all radiant smiles and laughing eyes, Lan Zhan cannot help the spark of hope that flares in his chest.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying exclaims, dropping into the seat across from him. He looks excited, happy and guileless, and Lan Zhan feels his heart constrict with something like longing. “I made it! Thanks for not standing me up,” he quips.

“Never,” Lan Zhan says, aghast at the very thought.

Wei Ying just laughs, light and giddy.

“Would you like to order something?” Lan Zhan asks.

“I’m okay,” Wei Ying says, but he eyes Lan Zhan’s ceviche with unmasked curiosity. Lan Zhan silently slides it across the table for him.

“Thanks,” Wei Ying says sheepishly, digging in. “So, what’s the plan from here?”

“There is a shuttle departing for the hotel at the top of the hour. We have some time before it leaves,” Lan Zhan says.

“Anything I should know before we get there?” Wei Ying asks. “Rules of the game, and all that.”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan agrees. “This is a working vacation for me, but you are free to amuse yourself as you please. I have arranged for some activities we can to do together, but you need not be tied to any of them if you do not wish to be.”

“Oh, I’m pretty easygoing,” Wei Ying assures him. “I’m happy to do whatever it is you’ve got planned.”

“Thank you,” Lan Zhan says, gratified by Wei Ying’s response. “I will have to evaluate the state of the room at check-in, which may take some time, so you are free to explore the hotel in the meantime.”

“It’s already past four,” Wei Ying points out. “Almost dinner time. Do you have any plans for that?”

“We will dine at the hotel restaurant. I will also be required to order room service at least once. I was planning for that to be tomorrow night, if that is all right with you,” Lan Zhan says.

“Of course!” Wei Ying enthuses. “I never order room service. I’m not fancy enough for that.”

“Unfortunately, it is not as glamourous as it sounds,” Lan Zhan cautions him. “It is often mediocre to dreadful.”

“I doubt it will be at this place, though,” Wei Ying says. “It’s way too fancy for bad room service.”

“One can hope,” Lan Zhan says drily.

“Doesn’t this place have two restaurants?” Wei Ying asks.

“Yes. One of them is only for breakfast. There is also the hotel bar and lounge,” Lan Zhan replies. “We will have to sample fare from all three.”

“Twist my rubber arm,” Wei Ying says cheerfully, finishing off the last of the ceviche. “This all sounds like very serious work, and I, for one, am happy to help you with it.” He helps himself to a swig of Lan Zhan’s water and flashes him a glittering smile. “Thanks for having me along.”

“It is my pleasure,” Lan Zhan says softly, eyes lingering on the moisture still clinging to Wei Ying’s lips.

“Do I have to call you Lan Wangji?” Wei Ying asks.

“Not if we are speaking in Mandarin,” Lan Zhan replies. “I doubt anyone on staff would be able to pick out the use of a different name. Unless they are Chinese, of course,” he allows.

“Hmm,” Wei Ying muses. “I’ll be careful when we’re speaking English, then.”

“It will only be necessary when speaking to staff for myself. You, on the other hand, are free to practice your French,” Lan Zhan points out.

“True,” Wei Ying grins. “I’ve gotten so much better since moving to Paris, they don’t even switch to English on me anymore.”

“The only true compliment,” Lan Zhan agrees with the hint of a smile.

Wei Ying smiles back, his eyes warm, and for a moment, Lan Zhan lets that spark of hope have some oxygen.

“Shall we?” Wei Ying says.

“Yes,” Lan Zhan says, rising to his feet and ushering Wei Ying in the direction of the shuttle bay.  

The shuttle is mostly full when they board, but they manage to find two seats together. Lan Zhan gives Wei Ying the window seat, and they settle in for the ride. It’s an hour and a half to the hotel, but it’s a beautiful drive, and Lan Zhan watches Wei Ying watch the world go by.

Check-in is a breeze. The staff on the concierge team are professional and efficient. Lan Zhan turns down any assistance with their luggage. Both he and Wei Ying are expert packers; they have just one suitcase apiece, small enough to be carry-on bags, so they make their way to their room unescorted. Lan Zhan keys the door open and gestures for Wei Ying to go in first.

Wei Ying whistles as he enters the suite, taking in the room with wide, wondering eyes. It is brightly lit, with sunshine streaming in through the two large windows on the far wall. Shades of grey and tweed are accented by rich purple highlights on the walls and the bedding, with two twin beds situated neatly against the rightmost wall. A small sofa delineates the lounge area, facing a television mounted over a long marble desk area.

“This is like an actual apartment,” Wei Ying observes, voice laced with surprise. “What level of room is this?”

“It is only a junior suite,” Lan Zhan informs him. “More than a regular terraced room, but less than a full suite, and far less luxurious than their specialty suites.”

“I can’t even imagine what those must cost,” Wei Ying says, ducking into the bathroom. “Yes!” he exclaims, emerging a moment later. “Fuzzy bathrobes!” he declares.

Lan Zhan can feel the edges of a smile on his face.

“Will it do?” Lan Zhan asks him.

“Of course!” Wei Ying laughs. “This is amazing, Lan Zhan. Truly amazing. This is going to spoil me for other hotels.”

“Before you get settled, I am going to have to take some pictures,” Lan Zhan tells him. “If you wish, you may explore the rest of the hotel while I do my preliminary evaluations.”

“Would it bother you to have me here?” Wei Ying asks.

“Certainly not,” Lan Zhan assures him. “I simply do not wish for you to be bored.”

“Oh, I won’t be, I promise,” Wei Ying says. “I’m kind of curious about your process, actually.”

“Very well,” Lan Zhan says, pleased to have Wei Ying’s attention on him. “Let me take some pictures of the bed and the lounge, then you may relax on either one.”

“Sure thing!” Wei Ying chirps. “Just tell me where I need to be to stay out of your way.”

“Actually, would you like to freshen up?” Lan Zhan suggests. “I can review the bathroom first, and then you may use it, if you wish.”

“I do!” Wei Ying says excitedly. “I’d love to wash the plane dust off before dinner.”

Lan Zhan nods and heads into the bathroom, snapping pictures of the bathtub and the shower unit before inspecting the complimentary toiletries. The walls are covered floor to ceiling by mosaic tiles in shades of warm gold and brown, and two pristine terry robes are hanging up ready for use. It’s blissfully clean, not a speck of dirt in sight, and Lan Zhan makes a satisfied note of that in his phone.

He emerges to find Wei Ying gazing out the window, the suffused light of the oncoming evening bathing his profile in gold, and Lan Zhan has to catch his breath. Wei Ying turns to smile at him, and Lan Zhan feels his heart skip a beat.

“All done?” Wei Ying asks.

“Mn,” Lan Zhan nods, his voice caught in his throat.

“Perfect,” Wei Ying sings. “I promise not to take too long.”

“Please, take your time,” Lan Zhan tells him, finding his voice again. “I have to document the rest of the room, and it will take a little while.”

“All right then,” Wei Ying smiles, heading toward the bathroom. “Don’t mind if I do!” He disappears behind the closed door, humming some nonsense tune as he goes.

Lan Zhan sighs, collecting himself and directing all his energy into a detailed survey of the room. He takes pictures from every angle, examines the desk and the coffee table for dust and wear, then he inspects the coffee machine and the selection of gourmet teas on hand. He takes stock of the closet space, the safe nestled within it for storing valuables, and he notes the quality of the coat hangers.

Wei Ying emerges from the bathroom just as Lan Zhan is finishing up, and Lan Zhan turns from where he is hanging his shirts in the closet to find Wei Ying smiling at him, wrapped in one of the terrycloth robes. He is scrubbed clean and flushed with the heat of the shower, wet hair swept carefully off to one side of his glowing face.

Lan Zhan swallows thickly, fighting against a sudden surge of want. Now is not the time, he tells the heat pooling low in his gut.

“Finished?” Wei Ying asks him sweetly. “It’s okay to use the bed now?”

Lan Zhan swallows one more time before he trusts himself to answer.

“Yes,” he gets out eventually. “I have what I need. You can make use of the entire suite now.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Wei Ying says, heading into the lounge and dropping onto the couch next to where he’s left his suitcase. “I bet you want to get cleaned up, too,” he says. “You’ve had a much longer trip than I have.”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan says again. “If you don’t mind, I will have a shower, and then we can go for dinner.”

“Why would I mind?” Wei Ying laughs. “I just had the longest shower of my life, and it was glorious. Take your time, Lan Zhan. I really don’t mind.” He retrieves his phone from the pocket of his jacket where it is hanging off his suitcase. “I might take a few pictures myself. I don’t have to keep this trip a secret or anything, do I?”

“No,” Lan Zhan assures him. “The more you act like a regular guest, the better. Feel free to post as much as you like to your social media accounts.”

“Thanks!” Wei Ying chirps. “I just might do that. What’s the point of staying in a place like this if you can’t make your friends and family jealous, right?”

“Hn,” Lan Zhan huffs in amusement. “My only request is that you do not photograph me.”

“Of course not,” Wei Ying promises. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“Thank you,” Lan Zhan says. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Take your time,” Wei Ying tells him again, already happily swiping through his feeds.

Lan Zhan spares him one last look before retreating into the bathroom. He strips down quickly and climbs into the shower. He takes a deep breath, and then he blasts himself with ice-cold water.

He stays under the stream for a very long time.

---

Dinner is served on the rooftop patio surrounding the pristine outdoor pool. The space is relaxed, not at all stuffy, with patrons lounging casually in their seats. The view of the ocean is exquisite, sapphire water stretching into the distant shoreline. The soft evening light reflects gold off the pool’s surface, and Wei Ying is radiant where he sits across from Lan Zhan, grey eyes alight with the same golden sheen.

“Do I have a price limit?” Wei Ying asks. “I don’t want to break your budget.”

“You do not,” Lan Zhan tells him. “You may order whatever you wish.”

“That’s dangerous,” Wei Ying grins. “I can eat a lot.”

“That is fine,” Lan Zhan says. “I want you to enjoy yourself, Wei Ying.”

“Oh, I bet I could enjoy the cheapest thing on the menu, but if I don’t have to…”

“You do not,” Lan Zhan assures him. “Order whatever you want,” he repeats.

“In that case, I’m totally going to start with this lobster carpaccio,” Wei Ying grins. “But I will spare you any caviar or foie gras.”

“You needn’t worry about offending me or my budget,” Lan Zhan says. “I only wish for you to have a good time on this trip.”

“I think that’s unavoidable, honestly,” Wei Ying smiles. “Like I said, I’m pretty easygoing. I’m already enjoying myself plenty. I can’t wait to try out this pool tomorrow.”

“I am glad to hear that,” Lan Zhan says. “Your morning is free to do as you wish. I have nothing planned immediately after breakfast tomorrow, but I have arranged for a wine tour in the afternoon. They offer to book them through the hotel, so I decided that was a service that warranted investigating.”

“Really?” asks Wei Ying, his eyes lighting up. “That sounds amazing! I love wineries.”

“I thought perhaps you might enjoy that,” Lan Zhan says, pleased by Wei Ying’s enthusiasm.

The server arrives to take their orders. True to his word, Wei Ying selects the lobster carpaccio to start and the braised lamb mousse for dinner. Lan Zhan opts for scallops on the shell dressed in yuzu, followed by the cod with rosemary, lemon, and smoked paprika.

“So, this is your life,” Wei Ying muses, lazily swirling the wine in his glass. “I can see why you’d prefer this job. A person could get used to travelling like this.”

“Indeed,” Lan Zhan agrees. “It is still a job, but trips like these, the ones that I spend in company, are equal parts work and pleasure.”

“Is there a limit to how many times you can take someone with you?” Wei Ying is curious.

“There is no official limit, only an honorary one,” Lan Zhan explains. “Certain properties do not require a partner to allay suspicion, and they prefer you complete those assignments alone.”

“I can’t believe you never get lonely,” Wei Ying says. “I’m pretty comfortable being by myself in a foreign country, and I’ve become a pro at dining alone, but sometimes, don’t you just want a friendly face?”

“Near the end of a round of travel, I am often weary of being on the road, but I find the more tired I become, the less I want to be around people at all,” Lan Zhan replies. “Hence, it is not an issue.”

“I find that fascinating,” Wei Ying says. “I love to travel. Absolutely love it. But I don’t think I could do it all the time, like you do.”

“Why do you think that is?” Lan Zhan is curious to know. “You do not live a static, stationary existence. You are on the road quite often, and have even sought out a position that keeps you farther away from where you originally lived.”

“I guess that’s true,” Wei Ying allows, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “But I think if I did what you do, I’d definitely get lonely. I’d want to take someone with me on every trip. I don’t think I could do it alone.”

“Why?” Lan Zhan presses. “You have said yourself that you cannot stay in one place too long.”

“I know,” Wei Ying says. “I did say that. And I meant it. It’s just,” he pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts. “It’s different, I think, because when I need to move, it’s because I’m still looking for something I haven’t found yet.”

“And what is that?” Lan Zhan asks.

Wei Ying drops his eyes to where he is fiddling with the stem of his wine glass. It’s several moments before he looks back up, locking eyes with Lan Zhan and holding his gaze, open and vulnerable in a way that Lan Zhan has never seen him before.

“Home,” Wei Ying says simply, softly.

The server chooses that moment to arrive with their food, and Wei Ying sits back in his chair to allow his dish to be placed in front of him. Lan Zhan watches him intently as the server withdraws. Wei Ying has dropped his eyes to his food, his long lashes fanning across the slight flush on his cheeks. He is beautiful, and Lan Zhan wants him with a fierceness that completely unnerves him.

Wei Ying takes a deep breath and looks up, his easy smile back in place.

“This looks amazing,” he gushes, picking up his fork and examining his plate. “Feel free to try some,” he adds with a smile.

“You enjoy it first,” Lan Zhan tells him, willing his rabbiting heart to slow down. He wants to reach across the table and brush an errant strand of hair out of Wei Ying’s face. He wants to tuck it behind Wei Ying’s ear and let his fingers linger on Wei Ying’s cheek.

He does none of these things, concentrating on eating his dinner instead.

The meal is exquisite. Wei Ying insists that Lan Zhan try the carpaccio, and he samples a little of Lan Zhan’s meal in exchange. Lan Zhan finishes off with a cup of white rose tea, and Wei Ying orders a fancy cocktail in lieu of dessert.

“We’ll have to try the dessert tomorrow with the room service,” Wei Ying winks at him. “Just so you can include it in your report. I’m too full to have some tonight.”

“Agreed,” Lan Zhan says, pleasantly full. He isn’t generally a fan of sweets, but for one indulgent moment, he imagines kissing a trace of chocolate mousse off of Wei Ying’s lips.

“How are you doing, by the way?” Wei Ying asks. “Has the jet lag caught up to you yet?”

“A little,” Lan Zhan confesses. “I am afraid I will require quite an early night tonight.”

“No worries,” Wei Ying assures him. “I can happily entertain myself. Maybe I’ll check out the hotel bar for a bit before bed.”

“Please do,” Lan Zhan encourages him. “And be sure to charge your drinks to the room. I want you to make the most of your time here. Again, do not feel obligated to stick to my itinerary.”

“I have a feeling I am going to love the rest of your itinerary,” Wei Ying smiles. “I honestly cannot wait to see what you have planned.”

“I am glad to hear that,” Lan Zhan says, suffused with a warming fondness. “I hope it lives up to your expectations.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Wei Ying laughs. “I have no expectations.”

Lan Zhan swallows down the sudden lurch of his heart in his throat.

Yes, he reminds himself. No expectations.

“It’s better that way, isn’t it?” Wei Ying continues. “And anyway, I love surprises.”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan agrees, voice low but steady.

“Here’s to spontaneity,” Wei Ying says, raising his cocktail.

“To spontaneity,” Lan Zhan echoes with a nod, and he stares intently as Wei Ying takes a sip of his drink, throat working to swallow the deep amber liquid.

Lan Zhan watches Wei Ying smile in the disappearing sunlight, and he hopes.

---

Lan Zhan wakes up at 5:00am the next day, fully refreshed and settled in the correct time zone. Moving quietly so as not to disturb Wei Ying, he gets dressed in his workout gear and goes down to inspect the fitness centre. He gets in a full workout, making sure to try all the machines, then he uses the sauna before returning to the room for a shower.

When he emerges wrapped in a bathrobe, Wei Ying is just stirring, stretching lazily in the rumpled sheets, his hair splayed around him on the pillow. He is deliciously soft and dishevelled looking.

“G’morning,” Wei Ying murmurs, scrubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “What time is it?”

“Seven,” Lan Zhan replies, fastening his watch to his wrist. “I was going to head down for breakfast, but you needn’t get up just yet.”

“No no,” Wei Ying insists, sitting up and eyeing him blearily. “I want to eat with you. Don’t make me eat by myself, that’s lonely.”

“As you wish,” Lan Zhan says fondly. “I will wait until you’re ready.”                       

“I’ll just be a minute,” Wei Ying says, struggling out of the blankets and rustling around in his bag for an outfit before making his way into the bathroom.

Lan Zhan quickly gets dressed in the meantime, taking a moment to transfer his notes on the fitness room to his laptop. Wei Ying returns from the bathroom fully dressed, face freshly scrubbed and ready for the day. He still looks a bit sleepy, pliant and defenseless, and Lan Zhan finds it especially charming, his protective urges flaring.

They head down to the breakfast room together and are quickly seated on the patio upon entry. The server takes their coffee and tea orders, and then they are free to peruse the buffet. There is a wide variety of food on offer, featuring local produce, in-house pastries, and fresh juices. Lan Zhan selects a house-made granola with yogurt, while Wei Ying opts for an omelette with a side of bacon and fresh fruit.

“I would like to visit the pool this morning,” Lan Zhan tells Wei Ying as they eat. “I would be happy if you would join me, although you are not obligated.”

“Sounds good to me,” Wei Ying replies, happily polishing off his omelette. “And seriously, you don’t have to keep reminding me that I’m not required to hang out with you. I want to,” he avers. “I like you.”

Lan Zhan has to squash the way his stomach does a backflip at those words.

“I figure as long as you’re not sick of me, I’m just going to follow your lead,” Wei Ying continues. “You haven’t led me astray yet,” he winks.

“In that case,” Lan Zhan replies, “I would request that you make use of their poolside service so that I may see how it goes.”

Wei Ying laughs, light and silvery. “Sure thing,” he enthuses. “I don’t need any convincing to try a few more of their cocktails.”

“Thank you,” Lan Zhan says, savouring the sound of Wei Ying’s laughter. “The wine tour leaves at noon, so you may relax until then. I intend to work poolside for the duration of the morning.”

“Can’t beat that for an office space,” Wei Ying quips. “Sounds like a delightful morning for both of us.”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan agrees. “I hope you had enough sleep last night?”

“I did,” Wei Ying says cheerfully. “I only stayed out for one extra drink, but I’ve already made friends with the bartender,” he grins. “I think he’s looking forward to seeing me again.”

“I see,” Lan Zhan says, tamping down on the completely irrational spike of jealousy he feels. “Perhaps we should dine there tomorrow evening? I regret that we must sample the room service tonight.”

“I doubt I’m going to regret anything on this trip,” Wei Ying says. “I’m sure I’ll be more than happy with the room service. Besides, it’ll be the end of a long day, so relaxing in the room when we get back from the wine tour sounds good to me.”

Lan Zhan nods in agreement. “I apologize if I made it any longer by waking you so early.”

Wei Ying waves away his concern with a sweep of his hand. “I’m glad you did. I don’t want to waste time while I’m here. Well,” he amends, “aside from being lazy by a pool, or some such. That’s the good kind of time-wasting,” he smiles. “I wouldn’t want to sleep the day away.”

“I am glad,” Lan Zhan says, pleased again by Wei Ying’s enthusiasm. “Are you ready to return to the room?”

“Yeah,” Wei Ying nods before finishing the last sip of his cappuccino. “Let’s go swimming!”

They return to the room to change, taking turns in the bathroom before heading up to the pool. Lan Zhan brings along his laptop and his phone, depositing them on a deck chair before removing his t-shirt and slides. He is careful not to stare at Wei Ying while he does the same, but as Wei Ying resurfaces after diving into the pool, Lan Zhan’s eyes cannot help but linger on his naked, glistening torso.

Lan Zhan does a few cursory laps in the pool. He’s already worked out for the day, so the swim is leisurely and unhurried. The sky stretches infinitely blue above him, inspiring a sense of vertigo that is buoyed away by the water beneath him, and Lan Zhan floats peacefully for a while before extracting himself. He towels off and sits down in the lounge chair with his laptop, getting down to work at last.

Wei Ying drifts in and out of his field of vision, all long limbs and lithe muscle, and Lan Zhan periodically allows himself to be distracted by the sight over top of his computer screen. Eventually, Wei Ying exits the pool and comes to sit in the chair beside him, all smiles and smooth, wet skin. He dons his sunglasses and flags down a server from the restaurant, placing an order for a sidecar and two sparkling waters.

“Don’t want to get dehydrated if we’re going to be drinking wine all afternoon,” he winks. “Although I suppose you won’t actually be drinking.”

“No,” Lan Zhan confirms. “But I may taste some of the samples.”

“Ah, right, I guess you don’t actually have to swallow at these things,” Wei Ying says. “I can’t imagine not wanting to, but I respect it.”

“Thank you,” Lan Zhan says, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice.

“I can’t wait to see some more of the countryside,” Wei Ying enthuses. “Even the drive here was amazing, so I’ll bet the wineries are just breathtaking. How many do we get to see?”

“Three,” Lan Zhan replies. “Some of the oldest ones in Provence, I am told.”

“Fancy,” Wei Ying quips. “Like everything else on this trip. Thank you,” he says to the server as she drops off their drinks. He takes a sip of his sidecar and sighs happily. “I feel so spoiled.”

“I am glad,” Lan Zhan says, watching Wei Ying’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“You like spoiling me, then?” Wei Ying teases.

“I do,” Lan Zhan says, not at all embarrassed, pleased by Wei Ying’s answering flush.

“Wow,” Wei Ying says, smile crooked. “You can just say stuff like that out loud, huh?”

“I can,” Lan Zhan affirms.

“Wow,” Wei Ying says again. His smile falters the tiniest bit as his flush intensifies. “That’s just. Huh. Wow.”

Lan Zhan holds his gaze for a long moment before turning back to his computer. “How is your drink?” he asks.

“Great,” Wei Ying replies, voice pitched just a touch too high. He clears his throat and continues. “Strong, but very refreshing.”

“Hmm,” Lan Zhan hums in reply, making a note in his report.

They wrap up early at the pool and head back to the room, taking turns in the shower before leaving the hotel and heading into town. They have some time before they meet their driver for the wine tour, so they stop in at a bakery and try its Tarte Tropezienne. Afterward, they take a stroll along the Yacht harbour, Wei Ying taking pictures and chattering happily along the way.

“I bet these boats are worth more money than I’ll ever make in my life. Must be nice,” Wei Ying sighs. “I used to want to live on a boat, you know.”

“Oh?” Lan Zhan asks.

“Yeah,” Wei Ying smiles, eyes distant. “I wanted to sail around the world when I was little. I was obsessed with the ocean, even though I only grew up around lakes. When I finally got to see it as a teenager, I was so excited, it was like I was five again,” he laughs. “It’s silly, but I used to think owning a boat meant ultimate freedom. As an adult, of course, I know it just means a lot of gas and upkeep.”

“It does,” Lan Zhan agrees. “But they are worth it, if you love to sail.”

“Yeah,” Wei Ying sighs. “Can’t say I’ve had much experience with that.”

“Then I hope you will not object to obtaining some,” Lan Zhan says smoothly, amused at the face Wei Ying makes in response.

“What, seriously?” Wei Ying asks, perking up immediately.

“Yes,” Lan Zhan says, allowing himself the shadow of a smile. “I have arranged a boat tour for tomorrow morning.”

“You didn’t!” Wei Ying exclaims, delighted. “Lan Zhan! That can’t be a part of your hotel review.”

“It is not,” Lan Zhan admits. “But it would be a shame not to explore the coast while we are here.”

“You’re amazing,” Wei Ying gushes, and Lan Zhan can feel his ears heating with the praise.

“You will have to get up early again,” Lan Zhan warns him. “We must be at the dock by 8:00am.”

“Oh, I’ll be there!” Wei Ying declares. “Just roll me out of bed and pour some coffee down my throat and I’ll be good to go.”

“I promise to handle you more gently than that,” Lan Zhan says, amused again.

“Nah,” Wei Ying dismisses the idea. “Seriously, just toss me around, I won’t mind.”

Lan Zhan can feel his mouth go dry, suddenly hot around the collar. Wei Ying beams at him, completely unselfconscious, as if he hasn’t just accidentally planted a wickedly enticing picture in Lan Zhan’s mind.

“We should proceed to the meeting point,” Lan Zhan gets out after a moment. “The driver will be arriving soon.”

“Great!” Wei Ying chirps. “Lead the way, Lan Zhan!”

Lan Zhan nods, his blood roaring in his ears, and together, they head back into town.

---

They depart from the town centre and enjoy a peaceful ride to the first winery, Wei Ying chatting happily with their driver, Camille. They are speaking English for Lan Zhan’s benefit, and Lan Zhan is mostly content to sit and listen while the two of them discuss the countryside. Wei Ying is a master of conversation, and their driver is open and friendly, easily volunteering details about her own life. She talks about her son, about her husband, and their quiet life in Provence. Wei Ying listens avidly, prompting her to continue and throwing in little anecdotes of his own from time to time.

“My son is desperate for a sibling,” she is saying. “He won’t stop asking for one. He doesn’t even care if it’s a brother or a sister, he just wants someone to play with. Or maybe just to boss around,” she laughs.

“Siblings are great,” Wei Ying agrees. “I have two, an older sister and a younger brother. Well, younger by like a week, I guess.”

“Stepbrother?” she asks.

“Nah, I’m sort of adopted,” Wei Ying explains. “Late addition to the family, basically.”

“Ah,” she says. “Families can be so complicated, but what would we do without them, right?”

“Exactly,” Wei Ying grins.

Lan Zhan wonders at Wei Ying’s family. Over the course of their correspondence, Wei Ying has waxed poetic about the endless virtues of his sister, about the stubborn and fierce way that his brother lives his life. And yet, Wei Ying chooses to live so far away from them. Lan Zhan can’t help but remember Wei Ying’s almost plaintive admission that what he’s really looking for is a home. Clearly, Wei Ying doesn’t feel like he has such a thing, even with the siblings he loves so adamantly.

What would make a home for Wei Ying, Lan Zhan wonders? He barely knows how he’d define one for himself. For most of his adult life, Lan Zhan has been happy with a rootless existence. He’s gone out of his way to avoid anything else, making a habit of casual encounters and fleeting connections. His friends are the kind of people he only sees every few months, and the only real constants in his life are family. But something about Wei Ying calls to him; Wei Ying stokes a fire at the very heart of him that he hadn’t realized was hungry.

“This is your first stop,” Camille says, pulling up to the edge of the estate. “You get to cross the vineyard to get to the cellar, and it’s a beautiful property.”

Together, they make their way toward the winery, passing through the lush rows of grapes, past the farm buildings and an old flour mill. Camille cheerfully tells them about the buildings and the vines, and Wei Ying coos in delight at the appearance of a donkey along the main path.

“That’s Little Apple,” Camille says. “He helps with the weeding, and he’s quite the fan favourite.”

“Hi, friend!” Wei Ying exclaims as he extends his hand for the donkey to sniff. His eyes are wide and shining, and his face is alight with something not unlike the awe of a small child. Lan Zhan is infinitely charmed.

The cellar itself is perfectly rustic, the antique farm tools and empty barrels scattered about belying the state-of-the-art equipment employed by the winery. Camille hands them over to the people in the chic, softly lit tasting room, and they sample the selection of wines on offer with a gaggle of other tourists. The region is famous for its rosé, and the crisp pink wine is indeed the highlight of the lineup, according to Wei Ying. Lan Zhan watches him fondly, nodding along with his tasting assessments, eyes lingering on his wine-stained lips.

Their next stop features lunch, and they sit down to a beautiful spread chock full of local produce, meats, and cheeses with a selection of bread and condiments arranged artfully over rustic cutting boards. Their host guides them through pairing the wine samples with the food on offer, and Lan Zhan dutifully sniffs each glass before handing it over to a cheerful Wei Ying, who happily drinks double.

The last stop is one of the oldest wineries in the gulf of Saint-Tropez, and Lan Zhan marvels at the massive old estate. The tour of the grounds and the exterior of the house takes almost an hour, featuring an old farm courtyard, a 300-year-old alley, and the massive earthenware wall to the east of the chateau. They end up in the tasting room, a grandiose hall that opens up onto a terrace overlooking the vineyard, and the third round of wine tasting commences.

Wei Ying retrieves his final glass of red, and together the two of them make their way out onto the terrace. The early evening sun bathes the vines in dusty orange light, and Lan Zhan watches the way it pools in Wei Ying’s eyes as he takes in the view.

“I should bring my sister here when she can finally come visit me,” Wei Ying says. “She loves rosé. Who knows when she’ll be ready to travel with Jin Ling, though. I might be long gone by then.”

“You think you will be moving on from Paris, then?” Lan Zhan asks.

“Possibly,” Wei Ying shrugs. “It all depends. I’ll see how it goes. See where the wind takes me, you know?”

“Don’t you miss your family?” Lan Zhan asks. “You speak of them so often, and so fondly. I wonder that you choose to live so far away from them.”

“Yeah, well,” Wei Ying says, rubbing at the back of his neck and avoiding Lan Zhan’s eyes. “They don’t necessarily miss me that much,” he admits.

“Oh?” Lan Zhan prompts, surprised.

“Well, I mean, they say they do,” Wei Ying allows. “But I’m not always welcome when I do come around. Things can get really tense.”

Lan Zhan watches him carefully, tracking the movement of his hair in the breeze and waiting for him to continue, if he so chooses.

“A few years back, my brother got really sick,” Wei Ying begins after a moment. “He needed a kidney transplant, and miraculously, we were a match, even though we’re not blood-related. Uncle Jiang and Auntie Yu were so relieved. But Jiang Cheng refused to do it,” Wei Ying says with a sigh.

“He refused the transplant?” Lan Zhan asks, surprised again. “Why would he do that?”

“To this day, I’m not really sure,” Wei Ying shakes his head. “He said it was because he couldn’t ask something like that from me, that he didn’t want me to make that sacrifice. He said he didn’t want to be in my debt. I never understood it. None of us did. And Auntie Yu took out all her frustration with him on me. She accused me of being the one to refuse, and she begged him to reconsider, but he wouldn’t, and he just got sicker and sicker.”

“That’s terrible,” Lan Zhan says, aghast.

“It was pretty awful,” Wei Ying agrees. “In the end, he slipped into a coma, and Auntie Yu was granted health care power of attorney. She gave the okay, and we did the transplant. When he woke up, he was devastated, but it was already done. He’s never really forgiven either of us, and Auntie Yu hasn’t forgiven me for that, either.”

“How is any of his resentment your fault?” Lan Zhan asks, incredulous.

Wei Ying just shrugs. “How isn’t it?” he replies. “I could have said no. I could have refused, because I knew that’s what he would have wanted, but I went ahead and did it anyway. I wanted to save his life. I still don’t understand why he didn’t want to let me. But that’s how he is. Stubborn and angry and not at all willing to talk about it. He will literally die mad about it,” Wei Ying laughs ruefully.

“I am sorry,” Lan Zhan says softly.

Wei Ying waves away his concern. “It’s fine,” he assures him. “Things are okay, more or less. They’re just better when I’m not around as much.”

“Your sister must miss you, though,” Lan Zhan guesses. “You are not unwelcomed by her, surely.”

“No,” Wei Ying agrees. “I’m definitely welcome with JieJie. But it’s easier to breathe out here, on my own, you know?”

“I think I do,” Lan Zhan replies.

“What about you?” Wei Ying challenges. “You’re rarely at home. Do you miss your family?”

“I see my brother quite regularly,” Lan Zhan says. “He travels with me often, and I make time to see him when I am back in New York. He is a professor at Columbia University.”

“What about your uncle?” Wei Ying probes. “You’ve mentioned him a couple of times.”

“Yes, I make sure to call him once a month, and I see him whenever I am in California for work.”

“So you don’t really have to miss them,” Wei Ying sighs, shoulders slumping ever so slightly. “That must be nice.”

“It is,” Lan Zhan says, carefully noting Wei Ying’s sudden despondence. “Family is very important to me.”

“Me too,” Wei Ying says quietly. He fiddles with the stem of his wineglass and works his lower lip between his teeth. “I think,” he says slowly, “that family really is number one. Or it should be. It’s lonely when you don’t have one.”

“But you have one,” Lan Zhan insists. “Don’t you?”

“I do,” Wei Ying agrees. “I guess I don’t always feel like they want me, though.”

Lan Zhan studies him in the early evening light, taking in the way his long, downcast lashes cast a shadow over his cheeks. He looks frail somehow, vulnerable again, and Lan Zhan resists the urge to scoop him up and cradle him in his arms.

Wei Ying shakes his head, breaking Lan Zhan out of his reverie. “What am I even talking about?” Wei Ying chides himself. “Of course I have a family. Don’t listen to me, Lan Zhan, I’ve clearly had too much to drink. Where’s Camille? Are we heading back soon?”

“I believe so,” Lan Zhan says, reaching out to take Wei Ying’s empty glass from his hand. “Shall we go find her?”

“Yeah,” Wei Ying smiles, all sunshine and lightness again. “Let’s go back to the hotel. I can’t wait to shower and relax and try out the room service!”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan agrees, and he allows his free hand drop to the small of Wei Ying’s back to guide him out of the winery. He keeps it there until he ushers Wei Ying into the waiting car, and Wei Ying lets him. 

The ride back to the hotel is cheerful and content. Wei Ying chatters intermittently with Camille, and Lan Zhan watches Wei Ying as the countryside passes by outside, unable to tear his eyes away from Wei Ying’s slightly flushed face. He’s so beautiful and alive, and Lan Zhan aches.

Back at the hotel, they take turns in the shower, and then they order room service. They eat dinner together dressed only in their terrycloth robes, Wei Ying laughing and flushed with wine. The food is almost as good as it would have been in the restaurant, and Lan Zhan notes as much in his report as Wei Ying dozes in front of the television.

Eventually, Lan Zhan rouses Wei Ying long enough for Wei Ying to make his way into his own bed, then he turns off the light and settles in for the night. He dreams of endless grapevines in heavenly fields, with Wei Ying laughing his golden laughter, framed by sunlight and just out of reach.

---

True to his word, Lan Zhan gently rolls Wei Ying out of bed the next morning with enough time for Wei Ying to have some coffee and breakfast. They arrive at the dock at exactly 8:00am, and they are ushered briskly onto their boat along with a handful of other tourists. It doesn’t take long for Wei Ying to wake up, excitement taking over every inch of his body, and he seems to vibrate with anticipation as the boat pulls out of the harbour.

It’s a beautiful day, and Wei Ying is radiant under the morning sun, resplendent in his simple white linen shirt and red swim shorts. He speaks easily with the captain in long strings of unbroken French, pausing every now and then to translate something for Lan Zhan with a wink. They sail past the exquisite villas lining the coast, the captain pointing out any houses of interest belonging to the rich and famous, and they drop anchor at a secluded cove to allow for swimming.

Wei Ying wastes no time shedding his shirt and diving right in, and Lan Zhan follows close behind him. When Lan Zhan comes up for air, Wei Ying attempts to dunk him, but Lan Zhan easily evades him, grabbing Wei Ying around the waist and heaving him bodily a few meters away. Wei Ying shrieks in delight, crashing back down into the water with a splash. He emerges a moment later, laughing with his whole body, and Lan Zhan drinks him in, one sun-soaked inch at a time.

They borrow snorkels from the crew and float happily among the reefs for a while, then it’s back aboard the boat where they are greeted with refreshments and warm towels. The trip back takes another hour or so, and Wei Ying strikes up a conversation with the other boaters, leaning into Lan Zhan’s side and laughing at their travel stories. Lan Zhan inhales deeply, breathing in Wei Ying’s scent, sun-kissed and sea-watered, letting his arm settle on the railing behind Wei Ying’s back. It’s an effort to keep his hand from curling around Wei Ying’s shoulder. He wants to draw him in and hold him close as the boat skims along the water, to press him more firmly into his side, but Lan Zhan resists the urge, willing himself to be still as Wei Ying casually invades his space.

They arrive back in the harbour in the early afternoon, and Lan Zhan offers his hand to Wei Ying as he descends from the boat. Wei Ying takes it with a smile, hopping off the boat and onto the dock.

“That was amazing!” Wei Ying gushes. “Do you have any more brilliant ideas for the rest of the day?”

“I do, in fact,” Lan Zhan replies. “Are you hungry?”

“Famished,” Wei Ying admits. “Swimming always works up an appetite.”

“We will have lunch back at the hotel,” Lan Zhan tells him. “I’ve booked us an afternoon at the spa, and it includes a special wellness menu.”

“Wow, now I’m feeling really spoiled!” Wei Ying exclaims. “That’s some next-level vacation pampering, Lan Zhan.”

“It would be remiss of me not to investigate,” Lan Zhan says smoothly. “The spa is a big attraction for the hotel. My report would be incomplete without a visit.”

“Right,” Wei Ying grins. “Well, far be it from me to object to your meticulous work plans. I’m down!”

“Good,” Lan Zhan says. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way,” Wei Ying smiles, falling happily into step beside him.

After a quick shower and a change of clothes back at the hotel, they make their way up to the restaurant for their reservation. The wellness menu is a three-course meal of light, delicate flavours. There is a cheese plate to start, garnished with radish rosettes and served with hazelnut-oatmeal crackers. The main course is poached octopus infused with seaweed, and for dessert, there is a Viennese biscuit with white cheese and lemon accompanied by a strawberry and basil tartare.

“Well, that was perfect,” Wei Ying says as the server clears their plates away. He takes a sip of his coffee and smiles across the table at Lan Zhan. “What kind of treatments do you have booked?”

“A custom massage and a facial, followed by a manicure,” Lan Zhan replies.

“This really is a full meal deal, huh?” Wei Ying laughs. “How am I supposed to go back to normal vacations after this?”

“At least you will not have to spend so much time in a hotel the next time you travel,” Lan Zhan points out. “The one downside to this job is often not getting to spend enough time seeing the places where you stay outside of the property you are reviewing.”

“I guess there is that,” Wei Ying muses. “Not that there’s much to complain about, being confined to a hotel like this one, but I suppose they’re not all as good as this.”

“Exactly,” Lan Zhan agrees. “This trip has been exceptional,” Lan Zhan says, watching Wei Ying closely. “I am very pleased with our stay thus far.”

“Me too!” Wei Ying gushes, bubbling over with his enthusiasm. “I can’t wait to try the spa. I haven’t had a massage in forever.”

“Shall we make our way down?” Lan Zhan asks, voice fond.

“Yes, let’s,” Wei Ying says, finishing the last of his coffee. “Time for more fluffy bathrobes!” he grins.

Lan Zhan can feel the edges of a smile tugging at his lips. “Indeed.”

---

The spa is as pristine as the rest of the hotel, floor to ceiling tiles in shades of white and grey lining the walls of the relaxation lounge and the changing rooms. The sauna is dimly lit in shades of soothing blues and purples, and the treatment rooms are brilliantly white, clean and crisp and smelling of eucalyptus.

Lan Zhan relaxes under the skilled hands of his masseuse, muscles uncoiling, but his thoughts can’t help wandering to Wei Ying in the next room, naked under someone else’s hands. He remembers the feeling of his own hands wrapped around Wei Ying’s tiny waist, the way it had thrilled him to lift Wei Ying out of the water. A small shiver travels through him at the thought of gripping Wei Ying tight, pulling him closer instead of tossing him away.

When he emerges after his facial, he finds Wei Ying already in the relaxation lounge. His hair is loose, pushed back from his face and slightly damp, and his skin is glowing from his treatment. He looks soft, and defenseless, and utterly content while absently perusing a fashion magazine, and Lan Zhan feels a pang of longing. Lan Zhan wants more than anything to reach out and claim him, and the strength of his own desire nearly undoes him.

Wei Ying looks up from his magazine and smiles, perfectly guileless, and Lan Zhan has to take a moment to mentally collect himself before he makes his way over to sit down. He settles himself at a respectable distance apart on the sofa, but Wei Ying immediately scoots over to crowd into his space, eager to show him a particularly interesting photo he’s found.

“Imagine making something this amazing and then having some photographer send it directly into the sea,” Wei Ying says, gesturing at the photo of a model in a massive evening gown afloat on the ocean waves. “I wonder if the designer ever cries about that sort of thing.”

“I would imagine the photographer had their permission, but I could be wrong,” Lan Zhan hazards.

“Hmm,” Wei Ying muses. “I suppose it could be like one of those ‘trash the dress’ photoshoots.”

“I am not familiar with such a thing,” Lan Zhan admits.

“Oh, they’re awesome!” Wei Ying enthuses. “Basically, it’s a photo shoot for the bride to do after her wedding. You just spent a couple thousand dollars on a dress you’re never going to wear again, so why not get the most out of it—by trashing it! In like, the most artistic and romantic ways possible,” he explains. “Swimming under waterfalls, exploring crystal caves, getting caught in a rainstorm, that sort of thing. It makes for some really amazing pictures. I actually paid for one for my sister as a wedding gift. She was a bit self-conscious at first, but in the end, she loved it. She says they ended up being her favourite wedding photos,” he says proudly.

“I see,” Lan Zhan nods. “A good use of an otherwise one-time-use garment.”

“Yeah,” Wei Ying sighs. “It was a really beautiful dress. Ludicrously expensive, but what’s a little money in the face of wedded bliss, right?” he winks. “Good thing grooms only have to spring for a tux rental if they want to. I don’t have five thousand dollars to drop on an outfit when I eventually get married.”

“You want to get married?” Lan Zhan asks, trying ignore the way his stomach twists with something like anticipation at those words.

“Well, yeah,” Wei Ying says, flushing slightly. “I really do. I mean, not anytime soon, obviously,” he babbles. “But, like. One day. Eventually. Um.”

“I see,” Lan Zhan says again, eyes tracking the flush where it travels all the way down Wei Ying’s neck, lingering on his collarbones. When he looks back up, Wei Ying is watching him with wide, plaintive eyes.

“So, do you?” Wei Ying tries. “Want to get married, that is.”

“I have never considered it,” Lan Zhan says.

It’s the honest truth. Marriage has never been on his list of things to do. If anything, it has been on a list of things to avoid. Lan Zhan has eschewed forming serious attachments in favour of fostering his own independence, determined to carve out his own destiny, unbeholden to anyone but himself. It has served him well, until now.

Now, he watches as Wei Ying shutters his gaze and turns back to his magazine, the flush on his face receding.

“Oh,” is all that Wei Ying says.

Lan Zhan is about to reply, to elaborate, to draw Wei Ying back into an open place, but their respective estheticians show up to collect them for their manicures. The two of them are escorted into another treatment room and seated at side-by-side tables. Wei Ying cheerfully introduces himself to his esthetician, and the two of them keep up a lively rapport throughout the treatment, Wei Ying laughing easily. Lan Zhan cannot help watching him, more engaged by Wei Ying’s facial expressions than what is going on with his own hands.

“I used to paint my nails all sorts of crazy colours using my sister’s nail polish,” Wei Ying is saying. “I was that artsy kid with the wacky nail colours all through school.”

“Did you want some polish, then?” his esthetician asks. “Most men don’t want any, but I’d be happy to do whatever colour you want.”

“I wish I could,” Wei Ying laments. “But my job doesn’t allow for any bold colours. Neutrals and clear polish only,” he sighs.

“Tell you what,” she says, eyes sparkling almost conspiratorially. “How do you feel about a very sheer gold? You won’t be able to tell it’s there unless you look closely. It’ll just make you very shiny.”

“Really?” Wei Ying perks up. “That sounds perfect! Yes, please, let’s do that,” he says happily.

“Coming right up,” she smiles, and she goes to retrieve the polish.

Lan Zhan watches him closely, and when Wei Ying catches him looking, he beams right back at Lan Zhan, all traces of his quiet and withdrawn mood from earlier evaporated. Lan Zhan relaxes under the force of Wei Ying’s smile, feeling his own face soften in response.

The esthetician returns with the nail polish, and Wei Ying resumes talking with her as she preps his nails for the paint. Lan Zhan himself opts for simply a thorough buffing, and he finishes up before Wei Ying receives his final coat of polish. He excuses himself and goes to shower, sluicing off the last of the massage oil under the steady stream of water. He changes back into his clothes and goes to wait in the reception area for Wei Ying to finish his treatment.  He takes out his phone and works on his report, engrossed in documenting the minute details of the spa until Wei Ying finally emerges, fresh-faced and smiling, with very shiny fingernails.  

“I am officially, professionally relaxed,” Wei Ying announces. “A guy could get used to this kind of treatment.”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan agrees, rising to meet him. He can’t help raking his eyes over Wei Ying’s form, scrubbed clean and refreshed, artfully tattered jeans hugging his hips, and he’s draped in a breezy linen shirt that hints enticingly at the lithe torso underneath.

“What time is it?” Wei Ying asks. “I think I’m getting hungry again.”

“Six,” Lan Zhan replies. “Shall we try the bar for dinner tonight?”

“Yes!” Wei Ying enthusiastically agrees. “My friend Sebastien the bartender will be happy to see me again,” he quips.

“I look forward to meeting him,” Lan Zhan says, amused. “Although I suspect I will not require his services quite as much as you do.”

Wei Ying laughs, light and free.

“Oh, I’ll keep him busy, all right,” he grins. “There’ll be plenty of bar service for you to evaluate in your report.”

“I appreciate that,” Lan Zhan says. “Shall we?”

Wei Ying nods and smiles sweetly in response, his eyes crinkling up at the corners, and Lan Zhan’s heart flutters hopefully in his chest. 

---

Sebastien is, in fact, very glad to see Wei Ying again. His smile widens as the two of them approach, and he greets Wei Ying by name. Lan Zhan does his best not to glower at him.

“What can I get for you gentlemen?” Sebastien asks.

“I’ll start with whatever it was you whipped up for me last time,” Wei Ying grins. “The one with the chartreuse and the chili syrup. I’ve been thinking about it ever since.”

“Very good,” Sebastien smiles. “And for you, Monsieur?”

“I will have a soda water, thank you,” Lan Zhan says.

“But make it fancy,” Wei Ying interjects. “Put a lime in it, or something.”

“Coming right up,” Sebastien nods, and Wei Ying turns his mischievous smile back to Lan Zhan.

“You gotta live a little, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying explains.

“If you insist,” Lan Zhan deadpans.

Wei Ying just laughs at him, light and easy. “I should have asked him for a little cocktail umbrella, too.”

“Perhaps he will use one to garnish your own drink, if you ask him,” Lan Zhan suggests.

Wei Ying laughs again, delighted. “That would be hilarious, and I would totally love it.”

Sebastien returns with their drinks; Lan Zhan’s water has been garnished with an artful lime twist, and Wei Ying’s cocktail arrives in a coupe, brilliantly green and fragrant.

“Will you be dining here as well?” Sebastien asks.

“We will!” Wei Ying chirps. “Don’t suppose you have a menu handy?”

“Of course,” Sebastien says, placing the menu on the bar between them. “Let me know whatever it is you need tonight, gentlemen.”

“Thank you,” Lan Zhan says, and Sebastien nods before sweeping away to see about his other customers.

Wei Ying is already engrossed in the menu, grey eyes scanning back and forth.

“How do you feel about sharing a few things?” he asks. “I’m not really feeling like a full meal, but snacking would be nice.”

“Please,” Lan Zhan replies. “Order whatever you wish.” Lan Zhan is not especially hungry himself, and a light, shared dinner sounds very appealing.

Wei Ying settles on the pissaladière and the anchoïade with fresh vegetables, both of which turn out to be a delightful medley of tastes and textures. They take their time, grazing slowly, and Wei Ying makes his way down the list of cocktails, determined to try the most adventurous ones. Sebastien is eager to offer Wei Ying suggestions, treating him to small samples of some of their more exotic liqueurs.

“Will you have another?” Sebastien asks as he clears away Wei Ying’s empty glass.

“I could definitely do one more,” Wei Ying avers. His eyes are clear and sparkling, and he’s only a tiny bit flushed, a charming touch of pink dusted across his cheeks. “Last one, though,” he says. “Wouldn’t want to overdo it.”

“I would never allow such a thing,” Sebastien assures him. “What can I get you for your final libation of the evening?”

“Something a little lighter than the last one please,” Wei Ying laughs.

“I have just the thing,” Sebastien tells him. “It will only be a moment.”

Wei Ying turns back toward Lan Zhan, eyes still twinkling. “What do you think, Lan Zhan? Have I disgraced you yet?”

“Certainly not,” Lan Zhan retorts. “You are perfectly coherent.”

“You don’t regret bringing me, then?” Wei Ying asks, his smile quirked slightly sideways.

“No,” Lan Zhan answers immediately. “You have been excellent company, Wei Ying.”

“I’m glad,” Wei Ying says, voice thick with earnestness. “I know I can be a lot.”

“I do not find that to be true,” Lan Zhan insists. “You are perfectly easy company.”

Wei Ying regards him solemnly, eyes searching Lan Zhan’s face. Lan Zhan stares back, wondering what exactly Wei Ying is looking for.

“I do not tolerate the company of many people well,” Lan Zhan continues. “But I find your company extremely agreeable.”

“Really?” Wei Ying asks. “You’re not sick of me yet?”

“No,” Lan Zhan replies. “And I suspect,” he continues, “that I never will be.”

The flush that rises in Wei Ying’s cheeks is almost scarlet, and he swallows thickly, eyes large in his face.  

“You are perfectly yourself, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says quietly, sincerely.

Sebastien chooses that moment to arrive with Wei Ying’s drink, and Wei Ying startles a little before turning away from Lan Zhan and taking an overly generous sip. Lan Zhan watches him intently, willing Wei Ying to turn around and look at him again. There was something there, in the moment before they were interrupted.

Something like hunger.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan calls, voice just barely audible above the hum in the bar.

Wei Ying turns back to look at him, and it’s like a punch to Lan Zhan’s gut. The raw look of desire on his face is unmistakable, his eyes huge and plaintive, and Lan Zhan gives in to the temptation he has been fighting all weekend, reaching out to cup the side of Wei Ying’s face. He strokes Wei Ying’s cheek with his thumb, watching intently as Wei Ying’s eyes shimmer with hope and something like disbelief. Lan Zhan leans in, agonizingly slow, closing the space between them and brushing his lips over Wei Ying’s, just a featherlight touch.

He can feel Wei Ying’s eyelashes fluttering against his cheek, and Lan Zhan lingers there, just a breath away, giving Wei Ying every opportunity to pull away. But Wei Ying doesn’t retreat, his lips parting on a shaky sigh, and Lan Zhan leans back in, sealing their mouths together in a real, eager kiss. He keeps the pressure light, lips probing gently, and he feels Wei Ying relax into his hand and soften against his mouth. He slips his hand around to the back of Wei Ying’s head, tilting him gently for a better angle and deepening the kiss as Wei Ying gasps a little into his mouth.

It’s several moments before Lan Zhan breaks the kiss and pulls back far enough to inspect Wei Ying’s face. He’s still flushed, a delightful splash of crimson across his cheeks, and his eyes flutter open with a look of wonder, pupils blown wide.

“Oh,” he says softly, voice a bit breathless, and Lan Zhan lets his hand settle at the nape of his neck, squeezing slightly in reassurance.

“Oh,” Wei Ying says again, leaning back in, and Lan Zhan meets him halfway, a little more forcefully this time. Wei Ying makes a muffled, surprised sort of sound, parting his lips and allowing Lan Zhan to sweep his tongue into Wei Ying’s mouth. This time when they pull apart, they are both short of breath.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying manages to get out. “We should—”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan says, already standing and pulling Wei Ying to his feet.

They abandon their drinks and move swiftly back to their room, bypassing the elevator and taking the stairs two steps at a time. Lan Zhan barely registers opening the door, but suddenly, they are inside, and Lan Zhan has Wei Ying pushed up against it, crowding him in and kissing him fiercely. Wei Ying whimpers under the assault, grabbing at Lan Zhan’s shoulders for purchase and arching into him with his whole body.

Lan Zhan slips an arm around his waist and yanks him impossibly closer, his other hand tangling in Wei Ying’s hair as he continues to kiss him, harsh and wet. It’s as if someone has lit a fire behind his ribcage, and Lan Zhan burns with all the pent-up yearning of the last few months. Wei Ying is finally here, he’s finally in his arms, and Lan Zhan nearly groans as their hips collide, already painfully aroused. He breaks the kiss long enough to bend his knees and lift Wei Ying right off the ground. Wei Ying laughs, his legs automatically going around Lan Zhan’s waist, and Lan Zhan angles his head up to kiss him again even as he makes his way toward the bed. Wei Ying kisses him back, hands on either side of Lan Zhan’s face, weight fully supported by Lan Zhan’s arms.

“Fuck, you’re strong,” Wei Ying breathes against his lips, fingertips scraping through Lan Zhan’s hair, massaging his scalp. “Are you going to toss me around, Lan Zhan? Are you going to hold me down?”

“Would you like that?” Lan Zhan asks, voice low and hoarse. He drops Wei Ying roughly onto the bed, following him down and holding him in place with his hips. He finds Wei Ying’s wrists and pins them on either side of his head, and Wei Ying’s entire body shudders in response.

“You like that?” Lan Zhan asks, ducking his head to mouth at Wei Ying’s neck. “You like it when I treat you roughly?” He punctuates the question by sinking his teeth into the juncture of Wei Ying’s neck and shoulder.

“Yes,” Wei Ying gasps, head thrown back, throat bared to Lan Zhan’s continued assault. “Please, yes—ah!”

Lan Zhan soothes the sting of his last bite with a sweep of his tongue. “Mark your words,” he growls, surging up to claim Wei Ying’s lips with a bruising kiss. Wei Ying moans helplessly, opening his mouth as Lan Zhan delves deep with his tongue, his torso arching up off the bed where he isn’t completely pinned down. Lan Zhan grinds down with his hips and is rewarded with another moan, Wei Ying’s legs coming up to tighten around his waist.

Lan Zhan releases Wei Ying’s wrists, pulling back and propping himself up with one hand while the other one snakes between them. He grabs a fistful of Wei Ying’s shirt and rends it open, heedless of the buttons that go flying. Wei Ying offers no protest, and his full-body shudder is deliciously encouraging. Lan Zhan works the shirt off and discards it, diving down to explore Wei Ying’s chest with teeth and tongue. Wei Ying’s hands fly into his hair, and he writhes beneath Lan Zhan’s ministrations, his breathy exclamations spurring Lan Zhan on.

“Yes,” Wei Ying breathes out, voice rough. “Yes, Lan Zhan, yes, please, fuck, mark me up, touch me everywhere, I—ah! Lan Zhan!”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan mouths against his skin. “Wei Ying,” he says into the dip above his collarbone. He makes his way back up Wei Ying’s neck, leaving searing, open-mouthed kisses along the way, nipping at Wei Ying’s ear. “I want to fuck you,” he breathes.

Wei Ying groans in response, a raw, desperate sound, and Lan Zhan has to kiss him again, his desire spiking in anticipation. Wei Ying clings to him, clawing at the back of his shirt, whimpering into his mouth. Lan Zhan slides a hand underneath him, gripping his ass through his jeans, squeezing roughly, and he feels another shudder travel up Wei Ying’s body.

Lan Zhan wrenches their mouths apart, and Wei Ying makes a small sound of protest, chasing Lan Zhan’s lips until Lan Zhan fists a hand in his hair and yanks his head back against the bed. Wei Ying moans, eyelids fluttering, and Lan Zhan watches his face hungrily, arousal coursing through him. He gives Wei Ying’s head a small jerk, exposing more of his neck, and Wei Ying seems to go docile with it, eyes unfocused and mouth slack around another helpless moan.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, voice deep and commanding. “Look at me.”

Slowly, Wei Ying’s eyes come back into focus, and Lan Zhan holds his gaze, releasing his grip on Wei Ying’s hair and dragging his thumb across Wei Ying’s lower lip.

“Will you let me fuck you?” Lan Zhan asks, voice low and thick with desire.

“Yes,” Wei Ying rasps. “Lan Zhan. Please, yes.”

Lan Zhan feels the heat in his gut intensify, a flush of anticipation rushing through him. He pushes himself off of Wei Ying long enough to quickly divest himself of his clothing, then he is unbuttoning Wei Ying’s jeans, guiding the zipper down over Wei Ying’s arousal. Wei Ying shivers at the fleeting contact, and then Lan Zhan removes his jeans and his underwear in one swift motion, leaving Wei Ying naked and panting on the bed.

He takes a moment to rake his eyes over Wei Ying’s body, allowing his hands to follow his gaze, stroking up his thighs and over his hips, coming to rest in a grip around Wei Ying’s slender waist. He flexes his fingers, loving the feel of the taut flesh underneath, and then he flips Wei Ying over in a sudden, rough motion that has Wei Ying yelping in surprise. Lan Zhan presses him down with one hand in the small of his back, the other at the base of his neck.

“Stay there,” he commands, giving Wei Ying’s shoulder a rough bite. Wei Ying only shivers in response, and Lan Zhan releases him, pleased at how still he is.

Lan Zhan leaves the bed and goes to retrieve the lube he always packs in his suitcase. He returns and runs his hands up the back of Wei Ying’s legs before gripping him by the hips and jerking him upwards. He hears Wei Ying’s breath hitch as Lan Zhan manhandles him into position, knees tucked up and ass angled into the air.

“Arms out front,” Lan Zhan says. “You will not touch yourself.”

Wei Ying obediently extends his arms, hands fisting in the sheets above his head.

“Lan Zhan,” he tries, but Lan Zhan cuts him off.

“Quiet,” he scolds him. “Be good, Wei Ying.”

Another shudder passes through Wei Ying at the words, and Lan Zhan runs a hand down the length of his spine, coming to rest warmly just above the cleft of his ass. He uncaps the lube with his other hand, noting the tremor that shakes through Wei Ying at the sound. He slicks up the fingers of one hand, then he grips Wei Ying firmly by the hip with the other. Wei Ying cannot help the startled noise that slips past his lips as Lan Zhan’s first finger breaches his entrance.

Wei Ying’s breathing quickly becomes ragged as Lan Zhan works him open, his voice coming out in broken little exclamations. By the time Lan Zhan leans down and bites his ass cheek in warning, Wei Ying is nearly sobbing with want, pushing back against Lan Zhan’s fingers and begging for his cock.

“Please, Lan Zhan, now,” Wei Ying pants. “Please, now, I need it.”

“Patience,” Lan Zhan teases, biting his other ass cheek, not ready to reward him yet.

“Please!” Wei Ying sobs. “Please, Lan Zhan, please—!”

He stutters as Lan Zhan withdraws his hand, body tensing in anticipation, but Lan Zhan takes his time, slowly slicking himself up and dragging the head of his cock over Wei Ying’s hole. He prolongs the torture a moment longer, Wei Ying whining pitifully, and then he positions himself and sinks in, Wei Ying’s body accepting him fully, almost greedily. Lan Zhan can’t help the strangled groan that escapes him, and he has to stop to catch his breath. It’s tight, so tight, and he takes a moment just to savour the sensation of being seated to the hilt.

Wei Ying moans in relief, full at last, but Lan Zhan doesn’t give him much of a reprieve before he is thrusting in and out. He starts off agonizingly slow, working Wei Ying open around his length, grinding against his ass before pulling back a few inches and thrusting in again, holding Wei Ying steady by his hips. He varies his strokes, angling up and then grinding down until Wei Ying is a keening mess, pushing back against Lan Zhan’s thrusts, hands fisted tightly in the sheets.

Gradually, Lan Zhan picks up the pace, riding that knife’s edge of pleasure, holding back just enough to keep himself from cresting that wave. He wants to draw it out, wants to make it last, wants to make Wei Ying sob and beg for release. He wants Wei Ying to feel it until tomorrow, all the way back to Paris on the plane. He wants to mark Wei Ying from the inside.

Lan Zhan leans forward and bites at the back of Wei Ying’s neck, and Wei Ying cries out in response, turning his face to the side, begging to be kissed. Lan Zhan obliges him, their mouths sliding messily together as Lan Zhan continues the piston motion of his hips. Eventually, Wei Ying cannot hold himself up any longer, and his forehead falls back to the bed, his hands shaking where they are clutching the sheets.

“So good,” Lan Zhan breathes next to his ear, loving how Wei Ying whimpers in response. “So good for me, Wei Ying.”

He angles Wei Ying’s ass up a little higher and quickens his pace, driving deep and hard, yanking back with his hands on Wei Ying’s hips with every forward thrust. The two of them are slicked with sweat, and Wei Ying moans over the sound of their skin slapping together. Lan Zhan struggles to control his breathing, to draw things out as long as possible.

Wei Ying is an incoherent mess beneath him, completely at his mercy, and Lan Zhan’s desire surges as he drives into him, harder and harder until Wei Ying can’t even cry out anymore, his fists loosening in the sheets. Lan Zhan hauls him up by his hair, leaning back on his haunches until Wei Ying is sprawled in his lap, back pressed to Lan Zhan’s chest. Lan Zhan thrusts brutally upward, and Wei Ying lets out another ragged gasp as Lan Zhan wraps a hand around Wei Ying’s cock and starts to jerk him off.

It doesn’t take very long before Wei Ying is coming in spurts over his fist, his whole body tensing and shaking with his release. Lan Zhan continues his upward assault, fucking him through his orgasm until Wei Ying is a boneless pile of limbs in his lap. Lan Zhan dumps him forward again, seizing his hips and hammering into him at a frantic pace, his thrusts becoming more erratic until he finally spills inside of him. He comes for a very long time, vision sparking white against his closed eyelids.

When he finally comes back to himself, he is draped over Wei Ying’s back, his heartbeat still hammering against his ribcage. Wei Ying remains motionless beneath him, breathing deeply, every muscle in his body gone slack. Slowly, Lan Zhan extracts himself, slipping out of Wei Ying with a sigh. He rolls Wei Ying over to inspect his face, and Wei Ying stares blurrily up at him as Lan Zhan strokes the hair away from his forehead. His eyes are wet, and there are one or two tear tracks staining his cheeks.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan calls, voice a little hoarse. “Wei Ying. Are you all right?”

Wei Ying doesn’t respond right away, and the pause is just long enough to spark a pang of anxiety in Lan Zhan’s heart. But finally, Wei Ying blinks away the fog and nods slowly, swallowing a few times before trying to speak.

“I’m okay,” he rasps, but that doesn’t stop another tear from escaping at the corner of his eye.

Lan Zhan swipes it away with his thumb, overwhelmed by a sudden, fierce tenderness, a protective instinct that wants to draw Wei Ying close and never let him go again. He allows himself to card his hand gently through Wei Ying’s tangled hair until the strands are smooth and silky again. Wei Ying watches him with wide, wet eyes, searching Lan Zhan’s face like he’s looking for an answer, and Lan Zhan can only hope that he has it.

Lan Zhan retrieves some tissues from the nightstand and does his best to clean them up, taking special care between Wei Ying’s legs, ghosting over his soft cock. Wei Ying continues to watch him, still lying down, grey eyes wide in the darkening room.

Silently, Lan Zhan leans in and kisses him, lips impossibly gentle as they slide against Wei Ying’s mouth. He feels Wei Ying’s eyelids flutter, and then Wei Ying is kissing him back, open and pliant, soft and willing. Lan Zan deepens the kiss ever so slightly, stroking into Wei Ying’s mouth with his tongue, caressing the side of Wei Ying’s face with one hand while he holds his waist with the other. He drops soft kisses on Wei Ying’s cheeks, on his eyelids, at his temples. He comes back to his lips and kisses him deeply, and Wei Ying accepts everything, allowing Lan Zhan this indulgence.

“Thank you,” Lan Zhan breathes against his lips. “Wei Ying. You were so good.”

He can feel Wei Ying’s breath hitch, feel the tremor of his eyelashes against his cheeks, but still, he remains silent.

“Wei Ying. Are you really all right?” Lan Zhan asks, cupping Wei Ying’s face between his hands.

Wei Ying nods again, eyes plaintive.

“Kiss me again,” he whispers, reaching out for Lan Zhan and drawing him close.

Lan Zhan kisses him, letting their legs tangle together until he finds himself on top of Wei Ying again, trailing kisses down his neck while Wei Ying sighs. He pulls Lan Zhan up until they are kissing again, and Lan Zhan nips at Wei Ying’s bottom lip. He’s beginning to feel himself stirring again, and an experimental shift of his hips tells him that Wei Ying is feeling the same thing.

Wei Ying pulls back with a whimper, and Lan Zhan stills, propping himself up to study Wei Ying’s face.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying pleads, breathless all over again. “Have mercy on me, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan can feel that promising heat pooling low in his gut, coiled around this new, tender affection. He leans in and kisses Wei Ying’s forehead, lips lingering in a reassuring touch.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “I’ll take care of you.”

Lan Zhan slips down Wei Ying’s body, and they lose themselves in each other for the rest of the night.

---

Lan Zhan blinks awake the next morning, coming to consciousness slower than usual. The position of sunlight on the wall indicates it is much later than he usually wakes up, and Lan Zhan turns to see the clock blinking 7:30 at him. He pushes himself into a sitting position and takes in his surroundings. The sheets are in complete disarray, and he’s alone in bed. The door to the bathroom is closed, and Lan Zhan can hear the hum of the shower on the other side.

The events of last night begin to resurface, and he feels a sudden rush of heat, the memory of Wei Ying writhing beneath him sending a twinge right through his cock. He remembers taking Wei Ying in his mouth, the salty-slick weight of him against his tongue. He remembers the way he’d made Wei Ying beg, driving him past the point of coherency, fucking him raw. It’s a delicious memory, and one that his body appears eager to repeat, but Lan Zhan ignores the ache between his legs, rising from the bed and retrieving a bathrobe from where it was left across the back of the sofa.

He dons the robe and surveys the room, taking in the discarded clothes scattered around the bed. He picks up the garments one by one, fishing his phone out of the pocket in his pants and separating his own clothes from Wei Ying’s. He retrieves his suitcase and repacks yesterday’s crumpled outfit, then he folds Wei Ying’s clothes and stacks them in a neat, careful pile on the unused bed. He finds his charger and plugs in his phone, the battery having worked itself down to 5%.

He scrolls absently through his notifications. It’s mostly emails from work, but there are few message requests from Instagram, and he dismisses them at a glance before opening his feed. Wei Ying stares back at him, a sweet smile stretched across his sun-soaked face. It’s a selfie from their boat trip, the beautiful expanse of the coast stretched out behind him. Lan Zhan can feel his face softening, his heart clenching fondly, and he brushes his thumb across the image of Wei Ying’s face, tracing the curve of his smile.

It's eight o’clock when Wei Ying finally emerges from the bathroom, fully dressed and freshly showered, his wet hair pulled loosely back from his face and into a bun. Lan Zhan rises from the sofa and turns to greet him, but Wei Ying freezes when their eyes meet, going stock-still, like a deer in the sightlines of a predator. Lan Zhan falters, halting in his approach, a quiet alarm bell going off in the back of his head.

“Good morning,” Lan Zhan tries. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Wei Ying answers immediately. His voice is cool and casual, but his body language is anything but. “What time do we need to check out?”

“We should leave on the ten o’clock shuttle,” Lan Zhan replies, taking a few cautious steps forward. He is instantly dismayed at how Wei Ying tenses, hands curling unconsciously into fists.

“Right,” Wei Ying says briskly, eyes darting away. “I’m going down to breakfast.”

“Would you like me to accompany you?” Lan Zhan tries. “I will only be a minute.”

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Wei Ying says dismissively. His eyes are anywhere but Lan Zhan’s face. “You need to shower. You should take your time.”

Lan Zhan swallows the sting of those words, willing himself to stay calm, to keep his face neutral.

“All right,” he replies. “I will join you later.”

“Seriously, don’t rush,” Wei Ying tells him, one hand absently fiddling with the hem of his shirt while the other tucks a stray strand of hair behind his ear. He still won’t make eye contact.

“All right,” Lan Zhan says again, voice pitched low, meant to be soothing. He tries one more time to move toward him, but Wei Ying takes a sharp step back, clearing the line to the bathroom and turning toward the door.

“See you later, then,” Wei Ying says to the floor, and then he is gone, disappearing out the door and into the hallway.

Lan Zhan stands perfectly still in the middle of the room, heart racing uncomfortably in his chest. This is not what he’d been expecting.

This is not what he wants.

He moves mechanically into the bathroom, his brain in overdrive, replaying events from last night over and over again. Wei Ying had seemed fine. Emotional, certainly, but not truly upset, and Lan Zhan had taken extra care to soothe him before they’d finally settled down for the night with Wei Ying curled tightly against him, his back to Lan Zhan’s chest. He’d fallen asleep quickly, and Lan Zhan had followed him down, dropping a kiss onto the back of Wei Ying’s neck before finally drifting off.

Lan Zhan enters the shower, scrubbing himself fiercely under the spray, anxiety percolating in the pit of his stomach. Does Wei Ying regret what they did last night? His skittish behaviour would seem to suggest as much, and Lan Zhan can feel his heart clenching in remorse. Had he been too rough? Too demanding? Lan Zhan knows he can be intense, and he hadn’t been able to hold back last night, all of his pent-up desire spilling out of him in waves. He’d wanted Wei Ying more fiercely than he has ever wanted anyone, and Lan Zhan had greedily taken what was given. The thought that Wei Ying might regret that decision eats a hole in his heart where doubt and shame make their home.

He finishes quickly, exiting the shower and towelling off with brisk efficiency. He gets dressed and makes his way down to the breakfast room as swiftly as possible. He finds Wei Ying hunched over his phone, a half-eaten plate of scrambled eggs in front of him. Lan Zhan takes a seat across from him, and Wei Ying startles a little, looking up at him at last.

“Hi,” Wei Ying says, stashing his phone away and reaching for his coffee. He takes a sip and holds the cup in both hands, and Lan Zhan can’t help but notice how tight his grip is.

“Hello,” Lan Zhan says carefully. “Wei Ying, are you—”

“I’m just finishing up,” Wei Ying interjects. “I should head back to the room. I need to pack.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan tries again. “Wei Ying, please sit for a moment.”

Wei Ying shakes his head. “Gotta make sure I’m ready to go. I’m a real disaster on check-out days,” he babbles. “I’ll see you after you’ve had your breakfast,” he says, standing to leave.

“All right,” Lan Zhan says, despairing of any further conversation.

Wei Ying nods jerkily and departs, leaving Lan Zhan sitting alone at the table. A server stops by to take his coffee order, and Lan Zhan declines, opting as always for a green tea, instead. He makes his way to the buffet and selects a few pastries and some fruit, all of which turn to ashes in his mouth.

It’s almost nine o’clock when he returns to the room. Wei Ying is sitting cross-legged on the unused bed, hunched over his phone again. He looks up as Lan Zhan enters and immediately uncurls himself, scooting off the bed and grabbing his suitcase.

“I’ll just wait down at the bar for you, okay?” Wei Ying says, already on his way out the door.

Lan Zhan reaches out to stop him, his hand closing around Wei Ying’s forearm, and he is dismayed all over again as Wei Ying flinches at the touch.

“Wei Ying,” he begins, voice pitched low and soft. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying insists, eyes averted. “I could really use a drink right now, that’s all.”

“Are you sure?” Lan Zhan presses, not relinquishing his grip.

“Yes, Lan Zhan, I’m sure,” says Wei Ying, and there is an edge to his voice that wasn’t there a moment ago. He finally meets Lan Zhan’s gaze, his eyes wide and pleading. “Please, let me go,” he says.

Lan Zhan releases him, and Wei Ying shoulders past him, exiting the room without another word.

---

The shuttle ride back to the airport is an hour and a half of escalating apprehension. They are seated separately, Wei Ying having selected a seat beside another passenger before Lan Zhan had a chance to sit down. Lan Zhan was forced to take a seat behind him, and he stares worriedly at the back of Wei Ying’s head. He even tried sending a message, but Wei Ying has not even opened it, let alone replied.

The clock is ticking on their time together, and Lan Zhan is beginning to despair of having any chance to make Wei Ying talk to him. He doesn’t even know what to say, but he doesn’t want to leave it like this. He can’t leave it like this.

When they arrive at the airport, there is some confusion about the bags, and in his rush to unload, the driver accidentally grabs Lan Zhan’s suitcase by the luggage tag. The strap snaps in two, and the driver is left sputtering apologies with the tag in his hand.

“It’s fine,” Lan Zhan says absently, his mind elsewhere. He accepts the broken tag and the suitcase from the embarrassed driver and searches for Wei Ying, who is already headed toward the check-in kiosks.

He quickly catches up, sliding into the kiosk next to Wei Ying, his fingers flying over the screen. He scans his passport and impatiently waits for the confirmation to go through. When his phone finally pings with his boarding pass, he heads to where Wei Ying is thankfully still waiting for him outside the domestic security gate.

“So,” Wei Ying says, voice falsely bright. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, stomach twisting at those words. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Wei Ying insists, but his gaze is settled somewhere on Lan Zhan’s chest, unable to meet Lan Zhan’s eyes.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan tries again. “If I have offended you somehow—”

“You didn’t,” Wei Ying cuts him off. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Lan Zhan. Really. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“You are clearly not,” Lan Zhan protests, frustration taking over at last. “If I’ve done something, if I’ve hurt you—”

“You didn’t,” Wei Ying cuts him off again, his tone firm. “You didn’t. Don’t worry. You’re great.” He looks up and makes eye contact at last. “You’re really great,” he says, voice breaking on the last word.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan breathes, his heart breaking.

“I need to get through security,” Wei Ying says. “I had a great time, okay? I promise I’m fine. I’ll message you later.”

“Will you?” Lan Zhan challenges.

“Yes,” Wei Ying says, already turning to leave. “I promise.”

Lan Zhan can feel the panic rising in his throat. This is wrong, all wrong, and if he lets Wei Ying walk away like this, he will regret it for the rest of his life. But Wei Ying is already leaving, taking quick strides toward the security gate, and Lan Zhan finally snaps into motion.

“Wei Ying!” he calls, catching up to him in three long strides and grabbing his hand before Wei Ying has a chance to flinch away from him. “Wait,” he begs.

Wei Ying turns wet, pleading eyes on him, and Lan Zhan’s heart cracks right down the middle.

Lan Zhan pulls the broken luggage tag out of his pocket and presses it into Wei Ying’s hand. He wraps Wei Ying’s fingers around it and holds onto him with both hands, almost like he is praying.

“If you’re ever in New York,” he says, voice urgent. “Look me up.”

Wei Ying’s eyes dart toward their joined hands, swallowing heavily.

“Please,” Lan Zhan entreats him.

It’s a long moment before Wei Ying replies.

“Okay,” he whispers, and Lan Zhan releases his hands.

It’s not a promise, but it’s not a refusal, and Lan Zhan clings to his last shred of hope as Wei Ying disappears behind the security gate.

---

The following weeks are a slog.

Lan Zhan returns to his bare-bones apartment, and he goes about re-settling himself for the brief span of time between assignments. He goes grocery shopping, re-stocking his fridge with essentials for the next two weeks, and he contacts his brother, asking to see if he is free for lunch on the weekend. Lan Huan replies in the affirmative, and Lan Zhan books him into his calendar. He is desperate for some kind of normalcy, and this is a familiar routine, but he is plagued by thoughts of Wei Ying.

True to his word, Wei Ying has sent him a message, but it is short and perfunctory, not at all his usual style.

suibian: thanks for a nice trip. i had a great time.

Lan Zhan considers his approach before replying. Should he push him? Should he demand an explanation for Wei Ying’s avoidant behaviour? He decides to tread carefully, instead.

L.Wangji: I am glad you enjoyed yourself. I greatly appreciated your company.

suibian: glad i could be useful on your business trip

Lan Zhan stares at the words, stung by their possible implications.

L.Wangji: Your presence was nothing but a pleasure to me, Wei Ying.

Wei Ying does not reply.

It goes on like that for the next month, with Lan Zhan attempting to coax Wei Ying into conversation. Wei Ying evades him, answering him vaguely or not at all, and Lan Zhan can feel his heart breaking a little more every day.

His next assignment finds him in Scotland, and Lan Zhan cannot help himself, searching aimlessly among the crowds. He knows it’s fruitless; Wei Ying’s regular routes do not include Edinburgh, but that doesn’t stop him from imagining Wei Ying’s smiling face, emerging from the sea of tourists on the Royal Mile to greet Lan Zhan with a laugh. Everywhere he goes, he sees Wei Ying. Things Wei Ying would like, things that would make Wei Ying laugh, things that would make Wei Ying’s eyes widen with the simple wonder with which he takes in the world.

Lan Zhan goes to sleep at night with the memory of Wei Ying’s taste in his mouth, the smell of him in his nostrils. He dreams of Wei Ying, of Wei Ying beneath him, arching up to meet him as Lan Zhan slides their bodies together. He kisses Wei Ying until he dissolves under Lan Zhan’s hands, gone like smoke, and Lan Zhan wakes up sweating, hard and aching and heartbroken.

He’s never felt this kind of loss before. It’s a constant ache behind his ribcage; the fire that blazed there has faded to glowing coals, restlessly smouldering in Lan Zhan’s despair. Food is tasteless, and water cannot slake his thirst. His body is crying out for something it cannot have, his whole heart’s desire an ocean away and even farther out of his reach.

Travel is strictly work now, one hotel blurring into another, the trips to the airport a chore. His own apartment offers him no reprieve, the cold, stark minimalism no longer a comfort. It feels truly empty, devoid of warmth, and Lan Zhan wonders at himself. It comes to him slowly, the realization settling in his heart like a stone at the bottom of a lake. 

He’s lonely.

Lan Zhan cannot remember a time when he was ever truly lonely before. His parents may have been absent growing up, but he’d always had his uncle and his brother as solid, constant figures in his life. But Wei Ying’s absence has left a hole in his life that he cannot fill with work, or distractions, or even the comfort of another person. No one else interests him; the thought of physical intimacy with anyone else is fully distasteful to him. The second realization hits him like a tidal wave, sending him tumbling with a sense of vertigo that has him catching his breath.

He’s in love.

He’s in love with Wei Ying, and if he just had Wei Ying to come home to—even as a message, a voicemail, a selfie—he’d be happy anywhere in the world. If he had Wei Ying to come home to, he’d never have to travel anywhere ever again.

It’s an easy decision after that, to buy a one-way ticket to Paris. He packs an overnight bag and organizes his documents for a mid-morning departure the next day. It’s reckless, and impulsive, but if Lan Zhan does not take this chance, he will not be able to live with himself. If Wei Ying turns him down face to face, then so be it.

But Lan Zhan has to try.

---

It’s half-past eight when Lan Zhan hears the knock at his door. He ignores it at first; he’s not expecting anyone so early, especially on a day when he has a flight to catch, and if it’s a package, the delivery man will just leave it on the doorstep. But the knock comes again, louder and more insistent this time, and Lan Zhan makes his way to the entrance, curious at last.

He is not expecting to find Wei Ying on the other side of the door, wide-eyed and flushed, looking a little like he’s just run a mile. His hair is loose and tousled around his face; his whole appearance is somewhat dishevelled, and he’s breathing somewhat erratically. He is the most beautiful thing Lan Zhan has ever seen. Lan Zhan stares at him, his broken heart aching in his chest, embers flaring to life with a sudden, desperate hope.

“Hi,” Wei Ying says, voice breathless and pitched just a touch too high. He clears his throat and continues. “Can I come in?”

Silently, Lan Zhan steps to the side, allowing Wei Ying entry. Wei Ying kicks off his shoes and marches right in, stopping at the centre of the room like he’s not sure where else to go. He turns around to face Lan Zhan again, and his eyes are huge and shining with something Lan Zhan can’t identify. Lan Zhan watches him from the doorway, afraid that if he takes a step toward him, Wei Ying will flinch away again, will disappear just like he does in Lan Zhan’s dreams.

Neither of them speaks, until finally, Wei Ying looks away, dropping his eyes to where his hands are fiddling with the zipper on his jacket. He takes a deep breath and seems to hold it for a moment before breathing out heavily, then he squares his shoulders and straightens up to his full height, looking back up to hold Lan Zhan’s gaze.

“You said if I was ever in New York,” he starts, but he trails off uncertainly for a moment. “And, well. Here I am.”

“Why?” Lan Zhan asks quietly, half afraid of the answer, but daring to hope.  

“Because I wanted to apologize. Needed to apologize,” Wei Ying amends. “It’s not fair, how I’ve treated you. How I left you.”

Lan Zhan continues to watch him, heart in his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Wei Ying continues. “I’m so sorry, Lan Zhan.”

“Why did you do it?” Lan Zhan wants to know, every fiber of his being aching to know the truth, even if it tears him apart. “When we—when I—” he pauses to collect himself. “Wei Ying, did I hurt you?”

“No!” Wei Ying exclaims, suddenly fierce. “You didn’t. I swear it. You didn’t do anything wrong, Lan Zhan. I’m sorry I left you to think that you did.”

“Then why?” Lan Zhan asks.  

“I freaked out,” Wei Ying admits. “It was a lot. You’re a lot. But not in a bad way,” he rushes to add. “It was all just a little overwhelming, because—because I—Lan Zhan. I just don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Lan Zhan asks, confused.

“Casual,” Wei Ying replies, his voice breaking on the word.

“Casual?” Lan Zhan says in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t do casual,” Wei Ying repeats, eyes suddenly shining with unshed tears. “I’ve tried it before, and I just can’t do it. It hurts too much. I’m not built for it. I can’t just sleep with someone and walk away—and I did, I know I did, but not because it didn’t mean anything! It’s because it meant too much,” he says.

Lan Zhan stares at him, shock rendering him immobile.

“And now here I am, and here you are, and you’re the best person I’ve ever met, and I know you don’t want the same things from me, but I had to tell you. I had to apologize. I’m so sorry,” Wei Ying says, voice shaking.

“Who says I don’t want those things?” Lan Zhan breathes, body coming alive again with a sudden rush of angry heat.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says ruefully. “You don’t want to get married. You don’t want to be tied down. You don’t even get lonely—”

“Who says I don’t?” Lan Zhan chokes out. “Who says I haven’t been lonely without you? Wei Ying. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m sorry,” Wei Ying almost pleads with him. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why did you stop messaging me?” Lan Zhan demands.

“Because I just couldn’t go back to the way it was,” Wei Ying admits. “I tried to pretend like everything was fine, but Lan Zhan, I couldn’t do it. Not after you kissed me. Not after that.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan shakes his head, remorse coursing through him with every new admission. “Oh, Wei Ying.”

“I’m sorry,” Wei Ying says again. “I can’t do it. I can’t just be normal with you, not ever again, not now that I know how much I—”  

Lan Zhan closes the space between them in three quick strides, grabbing Wei Ying around the shoulders and hauling him into a fierce embrace. He feels Wei Ying gasp against him, feels Wei Ying’s racing heart pressed up against his own. He wrenches Wei Ying’s head back and kisses him, his lips harsh, tongue demanding entry, and Wei Ying gives way beneath him, parting his lips and arching up in response. Lan Zhan deepens the kiss, harsh and rough, and Wei Ying lets him. He pours weeks worth of heartbreak and yearning into the kiss, relentless and almost cruel, but Wei Ying accepts everything Lan Zhan has to give him, his body going slack in Lan Zhan’s arms.

It’s an eternity before Lan Zhan releases him, but he does not let him go far. He keeps their bodies pressed together, one arm wrapped firmly around Wei Ying’s waist, the other hand tangled in his hair. Wei Ying breathes shakily across his mouth, eyelids fluttering, and Lan Zhan presses a heavy kiss to his temple, lips lingering a moment before he speaks into Wei Ying’s ear.

“There is nothing casual about the way I feel for you,” he says, voice low and sincere.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying chokes out, voice broken.

“You are all I’ve been able to think about since we parted,” Lan Zhan continues. “I miss you, Wei Ying. I miss you more than I’ve ever missed anything. I need you. I want you. Wei Ying. I want you in my life.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying gets out. “I like you so much. So much, Lan Zhan, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Lan Zhan tells him, brushing his lips against Wei Ying’s forehead, just the whisper of a kiss. “I don’t want things to go back the way they were,” Lan Zhan confesses. “I want things to change. I want to be with you, Wei Ying. I am yours, if you will have me.”

“How?” Wei Ying asks. “I can’t—I can’t do it if it’s not for keeps, Lan Zhan. I’m a stage five clinger. I need constant attention. My contract just started. I’m in Paris for the next two years.”

“Then it’s a good thing I have a ticket to Paris,” Lan Zhan declares.

Wei Ying blinks at him in surprise. “You do?”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan says, kissing him gently. “I do. I was coming to you, Wei Ying.”

“Lan Zhan, really?” Wei Ying exclaims, eyes spilling over at last. “You’d do that for me?”

“I suspect I would do practically anything for you, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says. “Wherever you go, that is where I wish to be. I will be a home for you, if you’ll let me.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying sobs. “I love you. I love you so much.”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan says, leaning in and capturing Wei Ying’s lips with his own. “Let me love you back,” he whispers.

“Okay,” Wei Ying murmurs against his lips.

“Okay.”

---

Paris in the springtime is still unpredictable, and Lan Zhan darts from the cover of the bakery to the shelter of his car in the sudden deluge of rain. He shakes the droplets out of his hair and deposits the box of pastries in the back seat, then he pulls out his phone and checks his messages.

Wei Ying: everything’s running on time! can’t wait to see you <3

Lan Zhan feels his heart expanding with warmth, his affection for Wei Ying almost overwhelming in anticipation of their reunion. It’s only been an extra day of layovers, but Lan Zhan is desperate to see him again, to hold him in his arms and kiss him into oblivion.

He starts the car and heads to the airport, Wei Ying’s latest playlist emanating from the speakers. Wei Ying likes to make Lan Zhan themed playlists for the days when he is away. Sometimes, it's completely random, like a colour or an object. Other times, it is deeply romantic, a callback to an intimate moment only Lan Zhan would know. It’s a peaceful ride, the traffic at this time of day not too terrible, and soon, he is pulling into the airport parking lot.

Wei Ying: just landed! waiting to deplane 😊

Lan Zhan passes the time by scrolling through his emails, making notes of the things that require a response tomorrow. There are at least three requests from new clients, and Lan Zhan stars each one for later perusal. It’s been an easier transition than Lan Zhan expected, transforming his online persona from a careful ruse into a legitimate business. Personal brand consulting has been a steep learning curve, but it turns out that Lan Zhan has a knack for maintaining a balance between mystery and omnipresence, and that’s something that his clients are eager to replicate.

He settles down outside the arrivals gate to wait, knowing that Wei Ying will have to clear customs. He runs through his itinerary for the next week, pleased at all the space that’s been blocked off to spend time with Wei Ying on his days off. Weather permitting, he has a whole picnic planned out for this weekend.

It suits him more than he ever thought it would, having a place he stays in for more than two weeks at a time. Their small Paris apartment is alive with plants, and the walls are happily cluttered with pictures of their travels together. It’s warm, and eclectic, and Lan Zhan couldn’t be more grateful to call it home. Every time he kisses Wei Ying goodbye at the airport, he misses him terribly, but he is content with the knowledge that Wei Ying will return to him, that they will go home together, and that Wei Ying is his, as surely as he is Wei Ying’s.

Wei Ying emerges from the arrivals gate, and Lan Zhan rises to meet him, smiling softly and enveloping Wei Ying in a tight, welcoming embrace. He breathes in the scent of him, travel dust and all, and Wei Ying sighs happily in his arms, muscles relaxing for the first time in what is probably twelve hours.

“Hi!” Wei Ying says, all smiles despite the bags under his eyes. “I missed you! Did you miss me?”

“Of course,” Lan Zhan replies, kissing his temple. “Are you hungry? I have dinner waiting at home, and there is dessert in the car if you cannot wait.”

“I knew you loved me!” Wei Ying quips, kissing Lan Zhan’s lips with a breathy laugh.

“Indeed,” Lan Zhan says, impossibly fond, and he kisses Wei Ying more firmly, cradling Wei Ying’s face between his hands.

Wei Ying leans into the kiss, and Lan Zhan can feel him smiling against his lips.

“Take me home, Lan Zhan.”

They leave the airport together, and he guides Wei Ying into the car with his hand at the small of Wei Ying’s back. He goes around the car to take his own seat on the driver’s side, then he laces their fingers together over the console.

Lan Zhan holds Wei Ying’s hand all the way home.

Fin