Chapter Text
Lan Wangji does not want to be here.
He does not care about Wen Chao’s gardens, or his priceless black market art, or his excessive armory, or his harem of live-in mistresses.
It is all boring. Wen Chao is presumptuous, greedy, and undisciplined. His ego is fragile, and he is immature like a spoiled child. His dalliances are of no interest to Lan Wangji.
Lan Wangji is only tolerating this tour because he must, because Wen Ruohan seeks to expand their business together, and Lan Xichen is currently occupied in business with the Jins.
Lan Wangji does not care for this game, for indulging these families for the sake of nurturing relationships. Lan Xichen tempers him, in this regard.
The Lans do not need to waste their time on these frivolities. They have not ascended to their current position as the top crime syndicate in the country by playing nice . The other major syndicates all submit to them. They operate and exist only because the Lans allow it.
But Lan Xichen sees value in playing nice. He derives some strange pleasure from diplomacy.
Lan Wangji does not. There is nothing he finds more boring.
Lan Wangji thinks he would not mind so much, if it was Wen Ruohan himself. Wen Ruohan is an adult, at least. Capable of reading a room.
Even Wen Xu is preferable to this senseless idiot who is guiding Lan Wangji through the splendor of his manor, bragging ceaselessly about his family’s wealth and unique treasures.
Lan Wangji has barely spoken to him, save for a crisp “Wen Chao” by means of greeting, and a few brief words of acknowledgment. He does not see the point in it, when every acknowledgment only serves to fuel the delusions and baseless cruelty of a man who abuses his servants for fun.
Wen Chao is a sadist, and for that, Lan Wangji both empathizes with and pities him.
Unfortunately, Wen Chao does not possess the restraint or self-awareness to control his impulses, to make them serve him. Rather, he is at the mercy of his base urges.
It makes him volatile and weak.
“I suppose this is all rather boring to you, Hanguang-jun,” he smirks, throwing back a generous swig of whisky.
Lan Wangji does not react, only watches him evenly. He had turned down a glass of whisky earlier, with a bored glance. Wen Chao is looking for some give in his composure, some method of entertaining him, winning him over.
He will not find it.
“Perhaps you would like to spend some time alone, with my Jiaojiao,” Wen Chao suggests, smirking darkly as he pets the hair of the girl kneeling beside his chair. She has a mad glint in her eyes, just like Wen Chao.
Lan Wangji has no interest in her. His only interest is in wrapping this up. He glances at his watch in a manner that is anything but discrete.
“You truly are that bored?” Wen Chao leers, tapping his fingers on the armrest of his chair. His eyes are faintly glazed with the effects of several glasses of whisky, and he seems like he is genuinely contemplating something. “Perhaps I should show you something special, then.”
“How about showing me the numbers for your next shipment,” Lan Wangji counters.
Wen Chao tosses his head back and laughs.
“All work and no play! Hanguang-jun, we so rarely have this chance to spend time together. Let’s have some fun, first.”
Lan Wangji watches him evenly, waiting him out. His own men, behind him, do the same. They are trained well.
“Jiaojiao, what do you think? Should we show him our pet?” Wen Chao tips her head up with a finger under her chin. She smiles up at him, and a wild cruelty dances between their gazes.
Lan Wangji does not care about their pets. He has already seen the nasty dogs they keep caged and hungry, the servants they treat like furniture.
Wen Chao pours a generous dram of whisky into a glass and offers it to Lan Wangji.
When Lan Wangji only stares at him, he proffers it closer.
“Trust me. You’re going to want it.”
–
Lan Wangji accepts the glass, but does not drink from it. He follows Wen Chao down into the lower levels of the manor, his own men following silently behind him.
Wen Chao leads him through a number of rooms and down a hallway, and then, into another room that appears to be a lounge. He smirks at Lan Wangji and pulls a key from his pocket.
The key, as it turns out, opens a door at the far side of the room, hidden away behind a heavy curtain. Wen Chao pauses after he has unlocked it, and glances back at Lan Wangji. There is a gleam of drunken excitement in his gaze, and a hint of a challenge.
Then, he opens the door.
Lan Wangji follows him inside.
At first, he is not sure what he is seeing.
They are in a lounge, similar to the room they just passed through. There are a few couches and chairs, low lighting creating a soft glow in the room.
But all of that fades into the background when Lan Wangji’s gaze settles on the center of the room, where Wen Chao is drawing back a curtain from something that almost seems like a stage, a display.
It is an aquarium. An elaborate, cylindrical aquarium, right in the center of the room. And inside of it... inside, there is a person .
It should not be possible, what he is seeing.
Lan Wangji sets his untouched glass down on a table.
He takes a step closer.
Wen Chao is talking, but the words are meaningless, fading into a soft, nonsensical buzz.
There are two coral pillars in the aquarium, and along the bottom, rather than any rocks or pebbles, there is a sea of pearls.
That alone would be a dramatic sight. And yet, it is trivial in comparison to the aquarium’s lone occupant.
There is a person, resting in the bed of pearls. A person who cannot be real.
Lan Wangji’s gaze is helplessly fixated on bare, pale skin. Long, silken hair. Dark, shiny scales, and a flash of red fins.
It is not possible.
Lan Wangji briefly considers whether or not Wen Chao has arranged an elaborate hoax.
But this is not a trick. Even at a glance, Lan Wangji can tell. This person, this being, is not human. This is something else entirely.
They are resting limply amongst the pearls, with shackles around their wrists, stringing them loosely in place between the two pillars. There is just enough give that they can rest neatly at the center, curled up in the bed of pearls like a fine treasure on display.
Their hair is a sea of inky blackness, trailing over their shoulders like a dark river, falling forward to obscure their face, bleeding into the sea of pearls like a puddle of spilled ink.
Lan Wangji has never seen hair behave like this underwater. There is a strange gravity to it. It does not float, or appear tangled. It falls neatly, liquidly, like a person’s hair would on land.
It is spilled around them so carelessly, like they have been dropped in the bed of pearls and forgotten about.
Wen Chao taps on the glass, and the person stirs, flinching slightly as if unaccustomed to the light. They shift their wrists, struggling to lift them against the weight of the shackles. They flick their tail as they stir, and a few pearls pelt the glass.
Lan Wangji takes a step closer.
The shackles look heavy, heavy enough that they are visibly dragging the person’s wrists down into the give of the pearls.
Lan Wangji swallows roughly. The person is stirring properly now. The movement of their body is strangely elegant, sinuous as they flick their tail and brace themselves against the shifting bed of pearls, lifting their head and turning their face-
Oh .
The dark curtain of their hair falls to the side, revealing the most beautiful face Lan Wangji has ever seen.
If he was still holding the glass of whisky Wen Chao had handed him, Lan Wangji thinks he may have dropped it at this moment.
Beautiful is not a strong enough word. This person, this being, surpasses all notions of human beauty. Their face is almost unnervingly pretty. Delicate and striking in a way that is almost confusing. Lan Wangji cannot help but stare in wonder and rapturous disbelief.
The siren - for that is what they must be - blinks a few times, gaze sharping in awareness and flitting over the occupants of the room, settling on Lan Wangji.
Their eyes are wide and innocent, with light silver irises that are too brilliant to be real.
Lan Wangji is ruined. Something has become unsettled in him, like a cosmic shift.
There is nothing more interesting, more compelling than this.
Lan Wangji has spent the majority of his life in a cold indifference, deriving pleasure from carefully regulated violence and cruelty.
He has never felt something like this before. He has never even imagined it.
The siren tilts their head to the side, regarding him with a strange, almost vulnerable expression in their shimmering eyes. Their hair shifts with the movement, spilling over their shoulder with impossible fluidity.
It breaks the laws of physics. It should be impossible.
This is magic. Something truly inhuman.
Wen Chao laughs.
“Hanguang-jun, it seems I’ve captured your attention after all.”
Lan Wangji does not reply. Wen Chao has not captured his attention.
This being, this person who is so terrifyingly beautiful, with bare skin and long glossy hair, a flash of impossible black scales and red fins, chained up in a bed of pearls, has captured his attention.
“He’s pretty, isn’t he?” Wen Chao smirks, stepping closer to Lan Wangji, lowering his voice like he’s letting him in on a secret. “He’s even prettier when he cries.”
Lan Wangji’s gaze snaps abruptly to Wen Chao.
“Would you like to see?” Wen Chao leers, a cruel glint in his eyes. “He cries easily. When Jiaojiao branded him, he cried for hours.”
Wen Chao presses a finger against the glass, pointing to the siren’s chest. There is a shimmer of a scar, there, right over their heart, in the shape of the Wen clan symbol.
“Jiaojiao wanted to brand his face, but I wouldn’t allow it.”
Lan Wangji cannot tear his eyes from the scar. It makes something hot and angry stir in his gut.
“How else do you do it.” Lan Wangji keeps his voice lethally calm as his gaze wanders over the siren’s body, the strange, misty expression in their eyes, the shackles that look so heavy and cruel. “How else do you make him cry.”
He needs to know. The anger in his gut is violent, turbulent like a storm.
Wen Chao laughs, oblivious.
“He cries whenever we feed him. We have to starve him to do it - he won’t eat, otherwise. And we have to drug the fish, or they won’t go near him.” Wen Chao pauses, and taps his finger against the glass. “It’s really a sight to behold. He might look pretty, but he’s a predator, through and through. This is military-grade bulletproof glass.”
Lan Wangji makes a point to turn his gaze to Wen Chao in a show of interest and encouragement.
Wen Chao is utterly predictable. He spills the details immediately, now that he has caught Lan Wangji’s attention.
“The chains are made from stainless steel that was specially treated to minimize rust and corrosion,” he explains with a haughty smirk. “In the seven years we’ve had him, you can see they’ve held up.”
Lan Wangji feels, abruptly, as if he wind has been knocked out of him. He blinks and fights to maintain his composure.
“Seven years.”
Wen Chao smirks and nods in confirmation. “He was a gift from a friend. They had him for quite a while, before that.”
Lan Wangji turns his gaze to the distant, misty expression in the siren’s eyes. They look back at him, and then turn their gaze down, and oh-
That’s sadness. Loneliness.
Seven years of cruelty and captivity. Seven years of refusing to eat unless starved.
“You would think it might get boring, after all these years. But I still enjoy it, coming down here to watch him,” Wen Chao confesses, in a show of wistfulness. “It’s a shame we fed him recently, or else I would show you. He’s very gentle, with the fish. He hates to eat them. But if you wait about a week, he’ll eat anything.”
Lan Wangji swallows roughly. He lays a hand against the glass. Military-grade. Bulletproof.
“This is custom.”
Wen Chao nods and raps a finger against it. The person inside flinches, gaze flicking between them nervously.
“It’s a saltwater tank. Quite expensive to maintain.”
Lan Wangji nods solemnly. Wen Chao must take it as a nod of approval or encouragement, because a sly smile overtakes his features.
“Jiaojiao, why don’t you fetch the dogs? Let’s show Hanguang-jun how our pets like to play together.”
The siren’s gaze follows Wang Lingjiao as she leaves the room, and then anxiously flits between Wen Chao and Lan Wangji, and the other men standing behind them.
Lan Wangji keeps his hand pressed against the glass as he turns his attention to Wen Chao.
“Does he have a name.”
Wen Chao laughs.
“Of course not. He can’t speak. Even though he looks pretty, he’s not human.”
Lan Wangji frowns at that, and turns his attention back to the siren. They look back at him, meeting his gaze with big, sad eyes that are full of expression and comprehension.
Wen Chao is a fool.
Wang Lingjiao returns with several leashed dogs, the same nasty dogs that Wen Chao keeps caged and starved. The instant the dogs enter the room, they begin to growl, advancing toward the center.
Wen Chao smirks. “Don’t worry, they won’t hurt you. They’re just here to play.”
Lan Wangji is not worried. His men would intervene to handle one of these dogs before it ever touched him.
But the person in the aquarium is worried. Lan Wangji can see color draining from their face, can see the way they shrink into themself, tugging frantically at the chains shackling them in place.
There’s no point to it, to struggling against the shackles. Even if they freed themself, they would still be trapped in this little aquarium. They are surely only hurting their wrists. But they struggle anyways, and then they sink down and curl into themself, hiding their face behind their arms.
The dogs bark, and the person visibly flinches. It happens again and again, and they flinch and tremble with every single bark. And then, Wen Chao raps on the glass, hard, like a command.
The person lifts their face obediently. They are visibly shivering, and their eyes are glossy. There are tracks of something shiny on their cheeks, streaks of tears that should not be distinguishable underwear.
And then, Lan Wangji sees it. A fresh tear, racing down that pretty face, twisted in such a pitiful, hurt expression. The drop of a pearl, floating down to settle with the others, indistinguishable in the vast sea of them.
Impossible.
Lan Wangji is speechless.
The scale of it is incomprehensible. Lan Wangji could not begin to guess how many pearls there are. They are each so small, and there are so, so many of them. They have filled the tank to an astonishing depth.
Lan Wangji has never seen an image of suffering so beautiful, so stirring. It makes his heart ache.
“Seven years,” he breathes, watching another pearl drop, disappearing into the bulk of them.
Wen Chao nods at Wang Lingjiao, and she leads the dogs out of the room.
Still, the siren does not stop crying.
The tears are racing down their cheeks, falling steadily to the bed of the aquarium.
Even with how hard they are crying, they do not make an impact at all, on the size of it.
“I told you, he cries easily,” Wen Chao remarks idly, like he’s commenting on a curiosity of the weather. “He’s especially terrified of dogs. I have no idea why.”
Lan Wangji takes a deep, steadying breath. He cannot tear his gaze from the scene before him. It is utterly enrapturing, terrifying.
“We used to take him out, sometimes. When Jiaojiao branded him, we chained him to the floor,” Wen Chao remarks, wistfully. “We used to let the dogs get close to him, when he was chained up like that. He was always so scared of them.”
Wen Chao smiles slyly at Lan Wangji, as if delighting in this moment, in that he has enraptured someone with his cruelty.
He has no way of knowing that Lan Wangji’s heart is in his throat, that murderous rage is surging through his veins.
Wen Chao turns his gaze back to the siren, who has closed their eyes and turned down their head, like some delicate, sorrowful beauty.
“To be honest, it’s more trouble than it’s worth. We had to sedate him to do it, and there were always pearls all over the floor, afterwards. His cries were beautiful, though.”
More trouble than it’s worth.
Wen Chao is a fool.
How could there be anything, anyone, more compelling, more worthy of attention, of effort, than this being before them.
Lan Wangji turns his attention to Wen Chao, pinning him in place with a steady gaze.
“Have you tried other types of water.”
Wen Chao throws his head back and laughs in delight. “To see how he would react?”
Lan Wangji watches him silently, as if in confirmation. Wen Chao reacts predictably.
“No, no, I’ve never tried that. My friend was very adamant that it must be saltwater. I don’t want to kill him. He’s far too precious for that.”
Lan Wangji turns his gaze back to the siren, in solemn agreement.
This being is far too precious, too delicate and terrifying to be left in the hands of Wen Chao.
Seven years .
Wang Lingjiao returns, having relieved herself of the dogs. It is only now that Lan Wangji notices the pearls in her ears, around her throat.
Lan Wangji’s stomach turns as Wen Chao greets her, with a hand on her waist and a cruel smile tugging at his lips. He has carelessly adorned this woman in tears that should be priceless, that transcend all notions of what is possible.
“Chaochao,” she whispers demurely, “Auntie has prepared dinner upstairs. Perhaps our esteemed guest would like to join us?”
Wen Chao turns his attention to Lan Wangji, smiling sleazily as he pulls his woman closer against his side.
“Well Hanguang-jun? Would you like to stay for dinner?”
Lan Wangji tears his gaze from the siren, who is so shyly avoiding the attention of the room.
“No need.”
He turns his attention to Wen Chao, and looks him carefully in the eye. “Wen Chao. Perhaps we shall do this again sometime.”
Wen Chao’s sleazy smile splits open in a vicious gleam of teeth.
“Hanguang-jun, you are welcome anytime. Perhaps next time, we can offer a better show.”
Lan Wangji seriously doubts that.
You are a mad dog , he thinks, as he watches Wen Chao toy with the pearls around his woman’s throat. You should be put down.
Lan Wangji allows Wen Chao to escort him and his men to the driveway.
“Jingyi,” he prompts the young man at his side, “With me.”
They slide into the backseat of the car, and settle in amidst plush black leather.
“Jingyi,” Lan Wangji flicks his gaze to the young man seated diligently beside him, in the shade of dark-tinted windows. “Begin construction on a saltwater pool.”
—
In the end, it is a simple operation.
Lan Wangji considers a number of paths, and decides on the simplest, most straightforward approach.
He entrusts the pool to Lan Jingyi.
Then, he has dinner with his brother.
Lan Xichen has taken up residence in a penthouse suite across the city, leaving Lan Wangji to occupy the family manor.
It is an arrangement that has worked well for them. Lan Xichen prefers a lofty view of the city. He prefers to manage the books, and nurture relationships, build alliances.
Lan Wangji prefers violence.
He prefers to live on the ground. To be in touch with the brutal truth of their family’s work, in the same way that a hunter knows the true value of a cut of meat.
And yet, he can appreciate the tranquility of Lan Xichen’s apartment. The vastness of the city below them. It offers perspective.
They share an assortment of dishes prepared by Lan Xichen’s chef, in customary silence.
Their uncle had enforced the practice since they were young. There is a comfort in it, now.
”Wangji, how was the meeting with Wen Chao?” Lan Xichen asks, once the dishes have been cleared away, and they have settled in with a vintage sheng puer from Lan Xichen’s collection.
Lan Wangji takes a moment to contemplate the steam rising from his porcelain tea cup. It’s an antique from the Ming dynasty. Lan Xichen had purchased the set at auction a few years ago.
Some collectors prefer to keep teawares like this on display, preserved behind glass.
Lan Xichen prefers to use them, to drink from the same cup that was used by ancient nobility.
“Brother,” Lan Wangji begins, flicking his gaze up to meet Lan Xichen’s. “There is something I plan to take from Wen Chao.”
The calm pool of Lan Xichen’s demeanor sparkles with a ripple of curiosity. Lan Wangji can see the questions and fascination coming to light in his soft gaze.
“Something you plan to take from Wen Chao?”
“Mn.”
Lan Xichen regards him curiously for a moment, as if measuring the resolve in his gaze.
Then, the corners of his lips turn up in a soft, clever smile.
“I suppose it can’t be helped. You’ve always been steadfast when you set your mind to something.”
Lan Xichen tastes a sip of tea, slow and elegant. Lan Wangji knows he is gathering his thoughts.
Conversations between the two of them have always been like this, the air filled with subtly and patience.
“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to share with me, what it is that has captured your attention,” Lan Xichen ventures, smiling softly into his tea cup.
Lan Wangji drops his gaze to his own tea cup, thoughtfully. It’s not that he couldn’t tell Lan Xichen. It is simply not the right time. It would be easier for Lan Xichen to see for himself, to understand properly.
Besides, there is something in Lan Wangji that wants to keep this a secret, for now. A secret that belongs only to him.
“It is something precious,” he offers, steering the conversation to its ultimate destination. “Something rare and priceless.”
Lan Xichen’s eyes sparkle with curiosity.
“I see,” he muses, with a slight pause. “Something Wen Chao will miss.”
Lan Wangji takes a thoughtful sip of tea, and then lifts his gaze, regarding Lan Xichen with steady focus.
“Brother. You have cultivated a close relationship with Jin Guangyao.”
As usual, Lan Xichen’s expression does something curious when Jin Guangyao is mentioned. His eyes light up with something soft and wistful, some private joy.
“It’s true that A-Yao and I are close.”
“Wen Chao has worked with the Jin syndicate on a number of matters recently,” Lan Wangji remarks, doing nothing to mask the nature of his request. “Perhaps you could arrange for him to pay a visit to Jinlin Tai in a week or so.”
A clever smile tugs at the corners of Lan Xichen’s lips. He turns his gaze to the vast expanse of the city below them, something keen and thoughtful in his expression.
“That could be productive.”