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1 —

No way thats a real persn, Jiang Cheng sends into the groupchat.

omg jiang cheng not everyones destined to die alone like u, Huaisang replies. some ppl r…..wanted….wei ying is one of those ppl. Wei Ying has two seconds to feel warm, and then, apparently…… someone………………...out there………… and the thinking emoji seven times.

god you’re such a bitch, Wei Ying sends.

dont use gendered slurs at me just bc i’m gay
are you homophobic?

i’m gay

dont avoid the question
why do u hate gay ppl?

Wei Ying grins and sends the Sasuke “yes i’m gay yes i’m homophobic” meme that he’s been saving and hoping to use organically for three weeks now, and then he puts the conversation on Do Not Disturb and turns back to the sugar daddy app that Nie Huaisang drunkenly made him download last night, after he was complaining about not having money and how unfair it is that he can’t just buy the leather snake motif loafers and all other snake-related paraphenilia at Gucci when that’s his perfect aesthetic. Like, Wei Ying doesn’t believe in being rich, or in other people being rich, but he would be so sexy in Gucci, and to think that he’s being denied? To think that men and women are not bowing at his feet for the right—the privilege—of spending money on him? That’s fucked up. It is obviously the number one issue with the world economy.

Nie Huaisang understood last night, even though Jiang Cheng just took another shot of soju like a loser and Wen Ning just offered to buy the loafers for him, which made Wei Ying sad because he did hate remembering that Wen Ning was rich, and that he’d have to take all his possessions in Revolution 2.0, but he’s sure Wen Ning will make an excellent class traitor. He told Wen Ning this, and Wen Ning beamed proudly.

Huaisang’s solution was to download and set up this account with two of Wei Ying’s best pictures and one of his sluttiest, the one that Huaisang took with his Nokia a few Halloweens ago when he was terrorizing people at Jin Zixuan’s party, which was totally fair because the people at any Jin party deserve to be terrorized, and Wei Ying was more than willing, so he knelt on the floor in his feminist-ly slutty ...Baby One More Time costume, skirt bunched up around his thighs and shirt unbuttoned halfway, and looked up under the mask—because of course it was a masked party, rich people literally have no creativity and a lot of fear—and let Huaisang terrorize him. Jin ZIxuan was all get out of my room, this is not your photoshoot op, I’m gonna tell Yanli you’re being difficult, but it was his birthday, and Wei Ying has a filter in his brain that blocks out everything Jins say, so he got some very good pictures even in the midst of the whining.

Wei Ying likes to think that it’s his well-maintained skin and beautiful smile that drew people in, but Huaisang laughed and said it was that picture and that picture alone, which Wei Ying doesn’t think is fair, but he did wake up with twenty-five messages this morning and dozens of likes, so maybe not. Jiang Cheng and Huaisang’s abuse comes from the second to latest message, where the guy’s name is just the credit card emoji, and his only picture is one of him neck down sitting down with his legs stretched out from his seat. He messaged Wei Ying, Hello, what’s your WeChat? which was so presumptuous that Wei Ying had to reply once he saw it, wow thats so presumptuous i had to reply to htis message message the second i saw it, but then the guy said, I would like to send you some money, which I figured is why you are on this site. and Wei Ying replied again, super presumptuos. what if i wanted company? what if i wanted a good conversation? what if i just wanted to get fucked by a 55yo using a fake body pic and pretending to be 28 and asking for me wecha t so that he can send an unwanted dick pic instead of asking how i am? The reply after was delayed, but when it came, it was just I’m not pretending to be 28 and I’m not using a fake picture. Then, I’ve never sent an unwanted dick pic. So of course Wei Ying had to reply, only wanted ones? and if i wanted one? and then take screenshots to send to the group chat and get told, yeah, that this definitely isn’t a real person.

my brother says ur not a real person, he sends.

Does your brother do all your thinking for you?

oh it bites!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
and yes he does he's like 65% of my impulse control
although maybe he does a bad job at it since i’m kinda considering giving you my wechat just to see how small your dick ends up being

Again, I do not need nor want to send unsolicited dick pics.
Look, if you let me add you, I’ll send 35k and you can decide whether I’m real. If i don’t send it within 10 minutes of you accepting my request, then you can block and report me or whatever you want to do.

why do you wanna send me money so bad

Sorry, do we have drastically different understandings about what this app is for?

it's a sugar person app!!!! people expect things in return!!

And this is me explicitly telling you that I don’t.

is this a kink for you
like financial domination
do u want me to control ur bank account
...and u ;)

I don’t think you could if you tried, the other guy sends.

Wei Ying scowls. He seriously needs to get laid, if just that vague response makes his gut hot. None of the responses he comes up with are strong or witty, which Wei Ying does pride himself on being at all other times, so he just sends his WeChat, turns onto his other side in bed, and waits for this scam to reveal itself.

Instead, within two minutes, he gets thirty-five thousand yuan from someone named Lan Zhan. Oh shit, he thinks to himself.

He immediately messages him on WeChat, are you insane???????

No, the person going by Lan Zhan says.

send me a pic of you with two fingers and your wallet on your thigh


so I know you’re not a Robot and this isn’t an elaborate ploy like the police or a pyramid scheme
which is the same thing but

Ridiculous, “Lan Zhan” responds. All the same, Wei Ying gets the photo, and when he double checks on the dating app, the build seems to fit… Ah, he has nice fingers. A black leather-bound wallet that looks boring and like it cost three months of Wei Ying’s rent. Rich people are the ridiculous ones. Who needs a wallet that expensive? Wei Ying wants to rob him, but it wouldn’t even be satisfying, since this guy is just—giving away money. With his nice fingers. Maybe Wei Ying will just bite his fingers, and that will give the same endorphin rush as robbing him.

you have nice fingers, Wei Ying sends.

Thank you?
Do you have any debts that you would like paid off first? I need to stretch payments out.

now i kinda wanna see a picture of your face
lke what if ur like. rocking bod but then ugly face
i would be sooo devasted

My appearance is irrelevant.

uhhhhh au contraire to flex my 2 years of french in high school
i wish i could say i don't believe that anyone is ugly but that's not true. no women or ppl are ugly but most men are
how could i accept money from someone i dont wanna sell my body to

Am not asking you to sell your body.

what if i say i won't accept any money withoutou seeing ur face

“””Lan Zhan””” doesn’t reply for a few minutes. Wei Ying turns onto his back and raises his knees to his chest as he squints at his phone. Wei Ying minimizes the app to pull up and reply to jie’s picture of the breakfast she had this morning with xiao-Ling and Mr. Jiang Yanli, xiao-Ling’s father. He sends her several sad face emojis in dismay of the congee and homemade youtiao he’s not having with her right now, like they used to in college when Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng would show up to her apartment with hungry stomachs and pathetic faces and wait for her to kick out the man who would become xiao-Ling’s father (unfortunately, she rarely did) so that they could have breakfast together like a family before going to the group therapy that years of being a family with their parents had required. The sad face emojis work super well, perfectly as planned, because she tells him to come over for lunch with Jiang Cheng. Now Wei Ying has something to look forward to on this long and lonesome Saturday.

On WeChat, he sends, i'm shocked u havent already snapped. aren't u gonna comment on my entitlement to someone trying to give me money and how i should just be happy ur sending me money and shut up

He gets a swift reply this time. Is that what you want my reaction to be?

i am being quite ungrateful
dont u wanna punish me sugar daddy

Ungrateful about what? I’m not doing you a favor and you don’t owe me anything.

thats a lot of money you're sendin g me
is this like charity for you?
or what do rich ppl call it…...philanthropy
are you gonna write it off for govt benefits or mediaplay

I don’t believe in philanthropy.

lan zhan
is that your real name
what does that that even mean?

What does my name mean?

no, what do you mean by you dont believe in philanthropy
isnt that literally what you’re doing
is that why u wanted to send it on wechat!! so that it’s logged w official payment methods

Is your name actually Wei Ying?

stop avoiding the question!

Wei Ying doesn’t get a response, and he still doesn’t get one five minutes later even though there’s no way this Lan Zhan person hasn’t seen his messages and isn’t purposefully avoiding him. Wei Ying scowls and figures it’s time to get out of bed if he is already angry at his phone. It’s a quarter to one, which he does not feel bad about, and jie likes having lunch at three PM, so he needs to watch the time if he doesn’t want to be late.

The best thing about being twenty-seven is having his own apartment, and the best thing about having his own apartment is the permitted selfishness in the bathroom and with the hot water. He and Jiang Cheng lived together all of college, and then for a few years after, and even though Wei Ying has had his own place for a year now, it still feels like a luxury every time he takes a bath instead of a shower.
He browses Douyin while he soaks in the galactic blue-green swirls from the bath bomb Wen Ning got him last week, just because he saw it and thought of Wei Ying, and tries to clear his head. Today was a long week, and next week will be longer. He just hopes that this weekend will give him useful distractions from the pressures of work, and judging by the outrageous conversation on WeChat, it might.

His therapist says that he needs to learn to spend hours, maybe days, comfortable with his own silence and thoughts. Wei Ying, knowing that she does not know the horror that being with his thoughts entails, disagrees. He takes a picture of his knees floating above the water and sends it to the man on WeChat, it is so fucked up that you’re ignoring me when i could be sending you some sexy feet pics.

Oh, now he gets a reply. You shave?

sometimes when i’m bored and can think of nothing else to do to avoid work
plenty of people shave, don’t make it weird

I’m not.
I used to shave in high school. For swim.

rich AND an athlete?

Not professionally. Just high school and university.
I also did basketball and cross-country.

i spent higih school jerking off and watching anime in my room, Wei Ying sends. He kind of did other stuff, sometimes, but Madam Yu wanted Jiang Cheng in sports, so Wei Ying wasn’t allowed the risk of being better. He did like chess club and theater, although there’s no way he can admit it without sounding super unsexy. The greatest embarrassment of his life is that he was a theater kid in high school. And university. And he so wishes that he wasn’t such a theater kid. Huaisang never lets him live it down.

Ah, Lan Zhan replies.
I hope it wasn’t both at the same time.

Wei Ying’s eyes widen at his phone. wow, this lan zhan surprises me

Lan Zhan is my real name. And then, so sudden and unexpected that Wei Ying—fucking—drops his phone in the water when it pulls up, a picture comes into the chat. It’s a selfie from arm’s length away, and they must be long arms, because Wei Ying can see—so much. A lot. Broad shoulders, the tilt of a leather chair behind them, the corners of a soft impressionist painting on the wall. Slightly off-center, the phone angled in a way that would make anyone else look terrible, is the face of this—

Okay. Wei Ying needs to get his thoughts together. In his own mind, he sounds delirious. He takes his phone out of the water and throws it onto the plush carpet below his tub, beyond grateful that his phone is waterproof. He submerges himself, five, seven seconds with his head underwater, and then he pulls the drain, quickly showers away the consequential grime of bathing, and then wraps himself in his warmest bathrobe. Saturdays are for indulgence. He stares down at his phone. It’s auto-locked by now, but Wei Ying is still shocked by what he knows is waiting for him when he unlocks. He stares down a little longer, and decides to brush his teeth and go through his skincare before picking it up. Let it dry a little.

wow, he sends a few moments later as he sits on his bed and waits for his moisturizer to dry so that he can apply the second layer and his sunscreen. He forgot to put on his eye cream, which he does feel bad about since jie spent so much money on it, but he always forgets, so he brushes aside this small but definite disappointment and pulls up the picture again. you have ot be catfishing me


is that actually I?
like i’m supposed to believe that’s u
no one looks like that irl

Like what?

Wei Ying pats the second layer of moisturizer on, and spreads SPF ++50 over his face and neck, extra attention on the faint acne scars around his nose and chin. you have to know how hot you are. like i don’t usually use sexy to describe ppl but ur nose is extravagantly sexy. It’s a perfect nose. Wei Ying kinda wants to sit on it. do u have contacts in?

No, I don’t.

why is someone as pretty as u on sugar daddy app not to use movie cliches but im pretty sure u could walk outside and ppl would beg to have sex with u.
like fall to their knees and start crying at ur feet

Am not on here to have sex.
Only sent picture because you said you would not accept money without. As you can see, I am a real person.
Do you have anything you’d like paid? I can only give 200k per week, without my bank calling me. Since you’re not a business.

Only. Wei Ying laughs.

i wouldn’t mind kneeling for you

Wei Ying.

lan zhan :)

Wei Ying throws his sunscreen on his counter and flops back on his bed. He needs to get dressed. It’s 1:40 now, and he spent way too long in the bath, but it makes no sense that Lan Zhan is still messaging Wei Ying, it makes no sense that he just wants to send Wei Ying money.

Wei Ying is being—as himself as possible. Surely, that’s enough to drive a stranger to the brink.

Wei Ying takes a picture of himself flat on the bed, his hair fanned out and his clavicle apparent from where his bathrobe went loose. Just for laughs, he thinks, parting his mouth a little in the way Huaisang loves. He sends it to Lan Zhan, do u wanna give me money bc i look pretty? it kinda hurts my feelings that u dont wanna fuck me even a little.

He locks his phone and gets dressed. A poorly suppressed part of himself wants to wear his grimiest clothes to go to a Jin house, just show up in the threadbare sweater with a hole above the nipple that Jiang Cheng tries to throw out every time he comes here, maybe the shredded jeans that Madam Yu didn’t allow him to wear out when he still lived under her roof and would’ve burned if jie didn’t hide in her room. This is the look Jin Ling’s father deserves from him. But jie deserves much better, even if she thinks Wei Ying looks cute in the jeans and only gets a little jealous that he can still fit in his teen clothes. Okay, maybe he will wear the jeans. As a compromise to himself. Normal shirt, as compromise for jiejie.

Wei Ying is an adult who has more important things to do with his day than fuck with a random hot rich guy. He does not look at WeChat for some time, not until he’s in his car and letting the engine run for a few minutes so that this pointlessly expensive car doesn’t give up on him before he’s drained every inch of life from it. He does love his car, though. Most of the time. When he sees the reply on WeChat, he bites his tongue to keep from screaming in the parking garage like a loser getting murdered, throws his phone onto the passenger side floor and, yeah, okay, scrambles over the console to grab it again so he can send a screenshot to the group chat. Jiang Cheng replies immediately with several vomiting emojis. Wen Ning sends a number of exclamation marks. Huaisang doesn’t reply, which might be best, because then he’d bait and egg on Wei Ying, and Wei Ying would fall for it like he always does, and then he’d be sending nudes from his car. It’s like his hindbrain takes over all of his critical thinking.

You do look pretty, but that is not why I want to give you money.
Said that I’m not on here for sex, not that I do not want to fuck you.



2 —

“Dajiu!” Jin Ling yells when jiejie opens the door with him in her arms. He all but jumps into Wei Ying’s arms, but Wei Ying is a pro, born to grab xiao-Ling from his constant attempts to brain himself on the floor. He hugs his nephew tight and accepts the big kiss he gives him before leaning in to kiss jiejie on the cheek in greeting.

“Hello, my favorite Jiangs,” he says, walking in, toeing his shoes off, and following jie to the kitchen. “Jiang Yanli and Jiang Ling, how are you?”

“But ‘m Jin Ling,” xiao-Ling says, squinting at Wei Ying in confusion. Wei Ying misses being two years old and naturally suspicious of everything.

This works, though, because when Wei Ying says, “no, you’re Jiang Ling, it’s a secret your baba is hiding from you,” xiao-Ling ohhhhhs and nods like he understands every word and nuance of Wei Ying’s not-truth.

Yanli laughs and puts a glass of water in front of Wei Ying. “Dajiu is just joking, sweetheart.” Wei Ying switches to bouncing xiao-Ling to one hip so that he can get the glass and start his jie-approved eight cups of the day. Wei Ying is decent at water intake, but he… did have that mild case of alcoholism in university, which is what sparked their group therapy, so jie is a teensy obsessive about his hydration, and Wei Ying never minds contributing to her peace of mind.

“So… dajiu lying?”


“Dajiu is telling full truth,” Wei Ying faux-whispers in xiao-Ling’s ear.

“Please stop radicalizing my son against his father,” jiejie says, smiling behind her own glass of water.

“I am introducing him to different perspectives,” Wei Ying says. “Right, baobao?”

“‘spectif,” Jin Ling says seriously. Wei Ying grins, and Jin Ling beams in his usual mimicry. Last year was a tough one for Wei Ying, fun bouts of misery to begin and end his days, and he spent a lot of time with jie and xiao-Ling, right as xiao-Ling was beginning his repetition phase. It was hilarious sometimes, when his nephew would start laughing and clapping whenever Wei Ying did, like Wei Ying’s laughter was the most exciting thing in the world; it was less hilarious when Wei Ying was not not-having a small bit of a mental breakdown and xiao-Ling would burst into tears. Wei Ying isn’t a crier, but he supposes sometimes he’d look so miserable that xiao-Ling was infected by said miserable vibes. Wei Ying had to stop being shitty to himself out loud because of it. Wei Ying’s therapist sent xiao-Ling a birthday card.

This also means that when Wei Ying says, “what sexy meals did jiejie prepare today,” xiao-Ling leans his head on Wei Ying’s shoulder and mutters sexy? and jie shoots Wei Ying a Look that does shake his boots from where they are by the doorway. Neither of them can acknowledge Jin Ling, not even to tell him not to say that word, because then he will never stop saying it.

“Hm, first, how are you, a-Ying?” She puts down her glass of water and refills Wei Ying’s. Another look. Wei Ying drinks half before answering.

“A-Ying is fine. I think I’ve found a sugar daddy. How is jiejie?”

“I filmed today,” Yanli says. When Wei Ying pays closer attention, he can tell; the best cooking ware and jie’s preferred wooden utensils are drying near the sink, and the kitchen is even more spotless than usual. “Million subscribers plaque came in the mail this morning.”

“Jiejie! Wah, you’re so cool, you’re a celebrity. Please remember me as your first fan.” He goes to shift Jin Ling to his other arm, but his nephew squirms and wiggles until Wei Ying puts him down. And just plops himself down on the floor, just sitting there, staring at the wall and doing nothing else. Wei Ying wants a baby.

“A-Ying is always my number one fan, especially when he finishes his water.” Wei Ying scrunches his nose and finishes it. Jie refills it again. “Shall we revisit the sugar daddy claim? Where did you meet him? Have you met him? I know you’re an adult, in the eyes of the government, not to jiejie, don’t worry—but maybe no men as old as a-die? Are they nice to you? Don’t give your full bank information, don’t give too much personal in—“

“Jiejie,” Wei Ying whines, leaning against the dark marble counter, “you can’t ask if we should revisit it and then bombard me with questions.”

“A-Ying is a smart boy who can keep up.”

“A-Ying is barely a year old,” Wei Ying protests.

“Dajiu lying,” Jin Ling says from the floor. Yanli hums in agreement. She raises an eyebrow at Wei Ying.

“He’s just—it’s a stu—an app Huaisang downloaded last night when we were drinking and having dinner at his place.” At jie’s little frown, he reassures, “they were drinking, I was getting high off life and beef skewers, why do you think Jiang Cheng still isn’t here, he’s so hungover—and it’s just a normal guy. He’s my age, and he’s apparently just giving out money?”

“Men who are not my brothers are not that trustworthy,” jie says darkly. Wei Ying can’t wait to hold this against Jin Ling’s father forever. ”Is he pressuring you for s—“ She glances down at xiao-Ling, who is now eating his hand. “Physical activities or inappropriate photos?”

“No?” Wei Ying says. Ah? He should not sound this confused or disappointed.

“A-Ying,” jie says.

“Do you wanna see the chat?” Wei Ying says, a little helpless. It’ll be bad enough for jie to see how ridiculous Wei Ying is, but he can’t handle saying them out loud to her. No, he’s not pressuring me, but I’m trying to goad him into it?

“Give me a synopsis,” jiejie says, and it’s not—cruel, per se, but jie knows when Wei Ying is deflecting, and it’s a little mean that she won’t let him.

Wei Ying pouts. Yanli just smiles at him. “He’s very pretty, like, beyond beautiful, but he says he just wants to send money? For the sake of sending? But it doesn’t seem like it even matters that it’s me, and that… well, I… Huaisang put the Halloween picture! I’m a little offended if I can’t get a reaction, jie, you understand.”

“A-Ying, are you sure you should be taunting a stranger on the internet into becoming intimate with you?”

Wei Ying feels his face heat up. He sometimes wishes he was as shameless with jie as he is everyone else, but it’s—it’s his jiejie. He should not have to bolster with her, and he is never able to, even if he wanted to try. He doesn’t want to try. “He’s so hot.” His cheeks flush hotter.

“The wealthy often have ulterior motives,” jie says.

“Jiejie, you’re married to a Jin,” Wei Ying says.

“We all fall victim to the heart,” she says, frowning a little. “Oh, although, I suppose—A-Xuan has a friend like this, who tries to convince him to donate directly to people instead of official charities.”

“Zixuan has friends?” Wei Ying can’t help asking. It’s instinct. To be fair, Jin Ling’s father is the most bearable of all the Jins Wei Ying has been forced to interact with at family functions. Sometimes he almost wishes that Madam Yu did disown him like she always threatened, because then he’d be spared from being in a room full of the bastards at xiao-Ling’s first birthday. But it was xiao-Ling’s first birthday, so these consequences Wei Ying handled with care and a lot of stolen baozi eaten on the stairwell with Jiang Cheng and Huaisang. Better yet — “Zixuan has people in his life telling him to donate to the poor? Other than you?”

“His best friend, perhaps, although neither ever acknowledges this.” Yanli drifts to the oven, walking carefully around xiao-Ling, and Wei Ying follows her, drawn to the aromatic steam of the pot she uncovers. “He may come to lunch today,” jie says lightly.

“Jie,” says Wei Ying.

“He is very nice,” jie says. She glances at Wei Ying. When she looks back to the stove, she adds, “quite handsome, too. Single.”

“I don’t date corporate pigs,” Wei Ying says.

“He may be the only one of A-Xuan’s friends who isn’t,” Yanli sighs. “I think he’s a conductor. Come taste.”

It tastes good, but—”it’s so mild,” Wei Ying says. “Perfect, but mild.” He pouts, but jie doesn’t even motion for the spice cabinet like Wei Ying so expertly and so often convinces her to.

“A-Xuan’s friend may come to lunch,” jie repeats. “There is… also no meat. But,” she quickly says, before Wei Ying can fall to dramatics, “I have pork belly in the oven staying warm for you and A-Cheng.”

“Ah, even in the deepest betrayals, my jie still comforts and considers me,” Wei Ying says, giving her a big kiss on the cheek. “Although I cannot believe you want to set me up with a vegetarian who cannot handle spice. Jie, A-Ying is a fiery young man sowing his wild oats, I don’t need to be set up.”

“A-Ying has not dated in two years,” jie says.

“I could still be—sowing! Oats!” Yanli-jie raises her eyebrows. “Jie, oh my god, fine, fine, please stop commenting on my sex life.” Or lack thereof. Ugh.

“Jie didn’t say anything,” Yanli-jie says. “Though I do think it’s cute that you’re romantic, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.” She pokes his cheek. Wei Ying scrunches his nose.

“Door! Door!” Xiao-Ling yells a moment later, after Wei Ying has convinced jie to let him try some pork belly when he finishes his third glass of water. “Door!” It’s Jiang Cheng, and he’s still wearing sunglasses when he steps inside, even as Jin Ling clings to his leg and waits to be picked up.

“Why the sunglasses, Jiang Cheng?” Wei Ying asks. “Do you have...a headache? Why would that be?” Wei Ying gasps and continues, “Do you have a hangover?”

When Jiang Cheng picks up Jin Ling with much effort, Jin Ling immediately removes the sunglasses so that he can nibble on them. Jiang Cheng has dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, and he can’t even successfully glower at Wei Ying. Wei Ying bursts into laughter, and even jiejie has to cover her mouth to hide a smile.

“Come, come hydrate,” jie says, taking Jiang Cheng’s arm and leading him to the kitchen.

“Sorry for being late, jiejie,” Jiang Cheng says a while later, after he finishes three ibuprofen and a sports drink.

“It’s okay, A-Cheng. You should have water when you drink, it helps prevent tense mornings.”

“It’s almost 3pm,” Wei Ying helpfully says.

“Fu—” Jin Ling is on the floor of the living room, playing with his toys and trying his hardest to eat them. Jiang Cheng scowls. Ah, Wei Ying loves getting his digs in when he’s with jiejie and Jin Ling; his little brother’s potty mouth suffers so much. “Yes. That is the time.”

“Or tense afternoons,” jie smiles.

Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng complain about work as they help jie set up the table for lunch. When the three glasses of water kick in, Wei Ying uses the bathroom and then changes xiao-Ling’s diaper, ever grateful that Jin Ling doesn’t pee on him, and five minutes to three, as jie finishes making fresh lemonade and Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng bitch to her about the show they hate-watch together every week with Huaisang and Wen Ning, the front door opens and closes.

“Door!!!!!!!!!” Jin Ling yells, out of his perfect mind.

“A-Li!” Jin Ling’s father calls. “A-Zhan and I are here!”

“Do not call me A-Zhan,” a deep and flat voice says from the foyer, mild annoyance in the tone.

Wei Ying squints.

“Kitchen!” Yanli-jie calls back. Two figures pad over, Jin Zixuan and someone—else—ah, fuck, Wei Ying’s life is the very worst webtoon drama. His eyes widen when he sees the tall, slender and broad form of—Lan Zhan? No, his eyes can’t play such advanced tricks, that’s for sure Lan Zhan, the same man that thinks giving away money on a whim is normal, the same man that Wei Ying was thirst-trapping an hour ago, who called Wei Ying pretty and implied that he wants to fuck Wei Ying—

“Oh, fuck me,” Wei Ying says, and xiao-Ling repeats, “fuh?” Jiang Cheng snickers, smug and annoying, but Wei Ying can’t focus on that, too busy staring and being stared at by Lan Zhan, who is somehow Zixuan’s friend? And jie wants to set Wei Ying up with him? Wei Ying feels his face burn, and he decides—well, it’s tempting to sit on the floor with xiao-Ling, ugh, but then jie will make a disappointed face at how rude he is to their guest. Ugh. Lan Zhan’s ears are red. He’s so fucking hot.


“A-Zhan, would you like some more soup?” jiejie says, and starts scooping it into his bowl before he can respond.

“Thank you,” Lan Zhan says, taking back his bowl when she hands it to him, and his face doesn’t change at all when he hears her say A-Zhan. Zixuan grumbles.

“You can call me jie,” Yanli-jie says, smiling at him. “I’m so used to hearing it endlessly from A-Ying and A-Cheng, perhaps it will be nice to hear it without a whine.”

“Jiejie,” Wei Ying complains. “I don’t whine.”

“You’re whining right now,” Zixuan says, feeding xiao-Ling a bit of pork belly.

Wei Ying scowls at him. “What do you know?”

“Be good,” jie says mildly. “We have a guest.”

“‘M always good,” Wei Ying mutters. He’d kick Zixuan under the table, but his legs are… preoccupied.

“Please speak freely,” Lan Zhan says. “It does not bother me.”

Yanli-jie sat Lan Zhan next to Wei Ying in a moment of divine cruelty, and he smells so good, this deep and warm, like, wooden aroma that might be the best thing Wei Ying has smelled in several lifetimes. Wei Ying tried behaving himself for ten minutes as they settled into lunch, but he is only so strong, and the temptation to knock his knee against Lan Zhan’s was just too strong. Lan Zhan didn’t react when Wei Ying did, so of course he had to press his leg close, subtly scooting his chair closer. Jiang Cheng glanced suspiciously at him from across the table next to Zixuan, but Jiang Cheng is always suspicious.

Now, jie prompts, “why don’t you tell A-Cheng and A-Ying a little about yourself? I’m sure they’re curious.”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan says, hesitant. “What are you interested in knowing?”

“Lan Zhan is a Lan heir,” Zixuan answers for him, because of course that’s what he thinks matters most. “His family’s in international publishing.”

“An heir?” Jiang Cheng says, raising an eyebrow. “How prestigious.”

“I am an orchestra conductor,” Lan Zhan says. Wei Ying nudges his foot under the table, and when that still doesn’t get him a reaction, he places his hand on Lan Zhan’s knee, just his fingers brushing over and then resting on the black denim. “Publishing is…my brother’s business.”

“Criminally rich people, which is all of them, always claim it’s their family’s money and not theirs,” Wei Ying muses.

Lan Zhan glances at him. When Wei Ying catches his eye, he trails his hand a little higher on Lan Zhan’s thigh. It’s very firm. Lan Zhan’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t move the hand away. Wei Ying smiles.

“Yes, I suppose we do,” Lan Zhan says.

“Lan Zhan doesn’t think his family should have the money at all,” Zixuan says, laughing. “He actually read all of Marx and Mao in high school. Only one in our class.”

Wei Ying’s belly burns. When he said he didn’t believe in philanthropy…that’s what he meant?

“You went to school together?” Jiang Cheng asks, popping a piece of cooled bok choy into xiao-Ling’s ahhhhing mouth where he’s in his highchair in the corner between Zixuan and A-Cheng. “I didn’t know Zixuan had friends he liked.”

“For a few years,” Lan Zhan says. Wei Ying takes a big spoonful of broth with his left hand. Under the table, he moves his right hand further up, and feels his heart pulse when Lan Zhan widens his legs, making Wei Ying’s hand slide higher, too close to dangerous territory, but when Wei Ying tries—not doing… that, Lan Zhan’s own hand curls over his and—and—

Wei Ying chokes on the broth, and finds it impossible to breathe even when Lan Zhan pats his back. His hand is big, spans over too much of Wei Ying’s back, and somehow, somehow, he’s still unfazed when Wei Ying looks over and up at him, as if he hasn’t matched Wei Ying’s teasing in the worst way and put Wei Ying’s stupid, stupid hand over the swell of his crotch and pressed down until Wei Ying was forced to tighten his fingers.

“A-Ying, are you okay? Don’t eat so fast,” jie reminds him.

“Ye—ah, yeah, yeah,” Wei Ying says, squeaks, when Lan Zhan moves both their hands to Wei Ying’s thigh and squeezes, hard. “I’m okay?”

“Hm,” jie says, not convinced. “Drink some more water.”

“I think,” Wei Ying says, pushing his chair back and standing quickly, heart pounding in his chest when Lan Zhan’s hand calmly drops away before anyone else can see, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

As he walks—paces—flees to the stairs and up to the furthest bathroom in the house, Wei Ying hears Zixuan say it was more than just a few years, that he and Lan Zhan spent all of boarding school together and fuck, Wei Ying cannot believe he got outplayed by someone who went to boarding school. This fucks up his entire ethos.



3 —

Wei Ying can’t dawdle in the bathroom without jie worrying and coming to follow him, so after a good long look at himself and a reminder of who the fuck he is, he goes back downstairs.

Unfortunately, Lan Zhan is hotter than his mind remembered in those five minutes he was gone, and when xiao-Ling starts getting fussy and upset, he offers to put him down for his afternoon nap while everyone else has tea in the living room. Not to escape, he’s not a coward, just for some fresh air. In the nursery.

He’s in high moods when he leaves xiao-Ling’s room after an easy round of humming and xiao-Ling mumbling that he loves dajiu before passing out, but his smile freezes on his face when he sees Lan Zhan leaning against the wall at the far end of the hallway, his eyes fixed on Wei Ying.

He catches himself and just smiles wider. Standing in front of Lan Zhan, he looks up and says, “does Jin Zixuan know you’re on sugar daddy apps sending money to his brother-in-law?”

“He knows I am on the apps,” Lan Zhan says, to Wei Ying’s surprise. “I did not know Wei Ying was his brother-in-law. Your last name—”

“I was adopted,” Wei Ying explains. “Did you really go to boarding school?”

Lan Zhan nods.

“That’s, like, super embarrassing for you,” Wei Ying laughs. “Beyond embarrassing. I went to normal high school like a normal person. No wonder you did so many sports, there’s nothing to do in boarding school other than, what, like… sports and hard drugs. Was Zixuan as terrible a teen as I know in my heart of hearts he was? I’ve met his family. Though, wait, maybe not being around them made him better?”

“You should not gossip,” Lan Zhan says.

“And you should not have me grab your dick in the middle of lunch with my siblings,” Wei Ying retorts.

“Your fault,” Lan Zhan says. Irrelevant, Wei Ying thinks.

“Lan Zhan, how big are you?” Wei Ying grins, stepping closer to Lan Zhan; at neck-level, he must tilt his head more to meet Lan Zhan’s eyes. “It can’t be misplaced confidence, but I didn’t expect such behavior from you.”

Lan Zhan’s ears have the faintest color, but his too-light eyes are steady and clear as he looks down at Wei Ying. “What behavior could you expect? Am not the one to ignore messages.”

Wei Ying tilts his head. “What messages? I don’t remember any messages, I think you have to remind me, Lan Zhan.” When Lan Zhan actually goes to grab his phone from his pocket, Wei Ying grabs his forearm to stop him, quickly says, “wait, no, fine, bluff, I know which! I was driving!”

“For two hours?”

“Maybe,” Wei Ying says. He bites his bottom lip and looks up at Lan Zhan through his eyelashes. “Is it big?”

Lan Zhan ignores his question again, which is seriously so annoying. Wei Ying is so funny and has such a way with words, and to think that Lan Zhan can just keep having a normal conversation is quite insulting. “Am I sending you money?”

“What?” Wei Ying says, blinking back into focus instead of staring fixated at the movement of Lan Zhan’s Adam’s apple.

“Am I sending Jin Zixuan’s brother-in-law money?”

“So you’re redistributing wealth? That’s really sexy.“ Wei Ying trails his index finger down the seam of Lan Zhan’s white button-down. He lowers his voice, makes it a little breathier, just a hint, and adds, “do you wanna fuck me, gege?”

Lan Zhan closes his eyes for two long exhales, and Wei Ying beams so wide he probably looks deranged.

“Already said that is not a condition,” Lan Zhan says, his pretty eyes back in view.

“And if I want it to be?” Lan Zhan stares at him. “Zhan-ge, I’m starting to think you don’t want to fuck me.”

“Do not fish, Wei Ying,” says Lan Zhan.

“How could you accuse me of such a thing, Lan Zhan? It’s just a question. A harmless question, even, nowhere deserving the attitude you’re giving me.”

“That I already answered.” When Wei Ying places his palm flat on Lan Zhan’s, right over his heart, he feels the heavy thud of Lan Zhan’s pulse, the uptick when Wei Ying steps even closer, so that their bodies are pressed right from chest to thigh. When Wei Ying feels the irregular heartbeat, he feels properly smug, like he finally got back at Lan Zhan for that terrible moment of weakness he caused Wei Ying earlier today and...very recently. Instead, Lan Zhan looks down at him with a slight furrow in his eyebrows, which should be a sign of success, right, from someone who speaks as shortly as Lan Zhan and who seemed unfazed even when Wei Ying was groping him under the dining table, but it’s just a precursor to Lan Zhan putting one of his hands on Wei Ying’s thin waist, making sure Wei Ying meets his eyes. Wei Ying’s breath hitches. “You know I want to fuck you.”

“I see,” Wei Ying says faintly. He clears his throat and tries stepping back, but Lan Zhan’s hand on his hip only tightens and keeps him in place.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says. Wei Ying has a million things running through his head right now, like all his brain workers are maxed to full capacity and racing to keep up, but for the first time in—okay, usually, his track record is much better. He’s not used to dealing with people who say what they mean; the best amongst them would be off-balance. He stares with wide eyes into Lan Zhan’s eyes, and feels heat go all the way down his body, every place Lan Zhan’s body touches his body, the soft warmth of Lan Zhan’s mouth so close to his, the gleam in Lan Zhan’s eyes. “Yes.”

He side steps away from the wall and Wei Ying, smoothing down his shirt where Wei Ying wrinkled it.

“Yes what?” Wei Ying asks, confused and still trying to catch his breath.

“Think for yourself what questions you asked,” Lan Zhan says, no more of that burning tension in his voice. He walks back downstairs, and Wei Ying has to take another thirty seconds to steady his feet.

He can feel Lan Zhan’s eyes on him when they sit in the living room downstairs, heavy and persistent, but Wei Ying doesn’t look away from jiejie, not until jiejie’s husband walks Lan Zhan out to his car half an hour later.

Immediately, Jiang Cheng says, “why were you such a freak?”

“Fuck off,” Wei Ying says. “You’re the freak.”

“You’re a bigger freak, you’re the fucking circus show,” Jiang Cheng snaps.

“Boys,” jie sighs. “How old are we?”

“Three,” Wei Ying says, batting his eyelashes at her.

“I thought you were barely a year old?” jiejie asks, raising an eyebrow as she takes another sip of her mild peach tea.

“Jie, how could you,” Wei Ying complains.

“A-Cheng knows he should not call you mean names, but you were a bit… off. Is everything okay? You know you can tell us anything and A-Cheng and I will listen. Right, A-Cheng?”

“I will not move from my seat,” Jiang Cheng offers. When jie looks at him a second longer, he adds, “yes, yes, I’ll listen and care.”

“It’s nothing bad,” Wei Ying hedges. “Uh… so… that was the guy. From earlier.”

“Wei Ying, you’re not shy, speak clearly,” Jiang Cheng says.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying tries again, “is the guy on the app I was talking to earlier.”

Jiang Cheng laughs for so long Wei Ying is convinced he will burst a vessel, which he should, he tells him, for being the worst didi in the entire world, so completely inconsiderate and cruel to his brother’s suffering.

“A-Ying,” jie finally says when Jiang Cheng calms down, hands on his stomach as he wheezes and catches his breath, “I suppose now is not the best time to mention I gave him your number.”

“I will know no greater betrayal than this,” he says for the second time that day, and lets jiejie pet his hair until he stops feeling sorry for himself and his several major losses today.


What does the yes mean? When Wei Ying gets home, after stripping down to his underwear and flopping facedown on his bed, he stares at his phone. A phone that caused him much trouble today. Perhaps his phone had been possessed?

He opens up WeChat. Said that I’m not on here for sex, not that I do not want to fuck you. It’s not—like, Jiang Cheng is right, which Wei Ying hates—Wei Ying isn’t shy, he flirts with people all the time, but he almost always has the upper-hand. Most don’t flirt back. It’s worse now, he thinks, because he’s not sure if Lan Zhan is flirting with him at all, or if he’s just responding to Wei Ying’s questions, Wei Ying’s taunts. Also, Wei Ying knows for a fact that he has more personality than any rich person he’s ever met or heard of, and yet he’s intrigued by this Lan Zhan…? Said that I’m not on here for sex, not that I do not want to fuck you. Wei Ying’s gut pulses.

He messages him again, do u wanna pay my car payment off for the year, and waits.

He doesn’t have to. The response is instant. I can pay all of it off. How much would you like me to send?

what was the yes for

Jiang Yanli says you are a genius. Think.

you’re so so so so so so so so so so mean to me

Wei Ying thinks. What questions did he ask? So you’re redistributing wealth? Is it big? How could you accuse me of such a thing? No, that can’t be it, that’s not a yes/no question. So you’re redistributing wealth? Is it big?

Wei Ying’s mind goes static. He swallows.

Lan zhN


ik what u answered yes to

Okay, Lan Zhan replies.

how can u be so vulgar and say nothing morethen ok
more than

Was just answering Wei Ying’s question.

how big
how big is it

When Lan Zhan doesn’t respond right away like he did for all the other messages, Wei Ying bites his bottom lip and sends is it bad if i wanna see it.

He closes his eyes for a few seconds to calm his racing and too adventurous mind.

In the group chat, he asks, is it stranger danger to invite s/o I’ve known for one day to come to my house?

Yanli-jie was right; Wei Ying does not and cannot do one-night-stands. He likes flirting, and sometimes he downloads dating apps and posts promiscuous pictures to get attention but this doesn’t… go anywhere, the vast majority of the time. He’s had two long term relationships with men he now hates and a high school girlfriend that he never kissed who broke up with him when she found out he liked boys, and he’s never been able to just meet someone and act on sexual desire without overthinking it. Fuck, he even waits until at least the third date. He likes sex, he loves sex, but people have sex in different ways, and he’s always been fine with making do with his hands and toys.

Right now, he really, really, really wants Lan Zhan in his mouth.

Please stop asking me about your sex lufe, Jiang Cheng texts.
but if it’s Lan zhan it’s probably fine bc jiejie knows his personal information and we can kill him if anything happens

im missing something CRUCIAL here and I dont like it, Huaisang sends.

baidu says it is better than if you go to their home as it’ll be easier to be in control of the situation and you can communicate more clearly with friends
also you know where your knives are!!!
yingge maybe you can share your location with us so we can track any unusual movements?

thank u to xiao ning who is my only best friend and my angel who i cradled under my bosom when you were just a baby♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

if u guys dont fill me in rn ill kill all ofnu andand then myself
WEI YING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He shares his location with Wen Ning and jiejie, although he doesn’t have the heart to tell her why, and then sends his address to Lan Zhan on WeChat.

He bites his lip when his messages mark read.

All Lan Zhan replies is Right now?

bring me ice cream

That’s why you want me to come over?

come find out



4 —

When he opens his door and looks up at Lan Zhan standing at the other side of the threshold, he feels his heart race to his throat, his mouth dry at the heaviness of Lan Zhan’s gaze.

“Wei Ying,” he greets.

Wei Ying steps back and lets Lan Zhan enter. “Lan Zhan.”

He feels so exposed now, more than he thought he would, in this too-large tee that goes down to his thighs, the too-short shorts that dig in at his waist. For a terrible second, he’s at a loss for words, and just stands there, trying to get his wits about him. Then he notices the paper bag in Lan Zhan’s hand, and curiosity turns his brain back on. “What’d you bring me, gege?”

Lan Zhan raises the bag. “Ice cream.”

Wei Ying can’t believe this. “I can’t believe this,” he says, his eyes lighting up at how genuine this man is. “Come on.”

Wei Ying’s kitchen feels too small when Lan Zhan steps in. Wei Ying is tall, but Lan Zhan is even taller, wider, a solidity and gravitas to his presence that is overwhelming but not stifling. “What type did you get?” He makes grabbing hands until Lan Zhan puts the bag down, and when Wei Ying spreads the contents out, there is much more ice cream than Wei Ying thinks anyone needs.

“You’re insane,” Wei Ying says, laughs, two jars of gelato he could never justify buying in his hands. “I’ve never even tried these, why are you paying a hundred yuan for one bag of mochi?” The variety of the bag is diverse: gelato, sorbet, proper ice cream, the especially heinous character bars that Jin Ling is only allowed to have once every three months because the amount of sugar keeps him wired and out of his mind for days.

“Was not sure what you like. Put what you will not eat in the freezer,” Lan Zhan says in answer.

“Lan Zhan, this is wasteful wealth,” Wei Ying says, leaning back against his fridge after putting everything but a vanilla ice cream cone in the freezer.

“Wei Ying wanted ice cream,” Lan Zhan says. His gaze travels down Wei Ying’s body, from his neck, his waist, an indecent amount of time on the fat on Wei Ying’s thighs where the shorts dig in. Slowly, so slowly, he works his way back up: Wei Ying’s hands fisted then flexing at his side, Wei Ying’s collarbone, Wei Ying’s mouth, Wei Ying’s desperate eyes.

Wei Ying had a plan, kind of. He invited Lan Zhan over, and he was going to play at being coy, maybe fellate an ice cream cone if Lan Zhan really did bring them, tell Lan Zhan he wanted to watch a movie together in Wei Ying’s living room, and tease Lan Zhan until the tension broke and Lan Zhan fucked him. He had a plan.

“That’s not all I wanted,” Wei Ying says now, licking his lips. Paying this much attention, he sees Lan Zhan’s eyes dart down to his tongue.

“What else did Wei Ying want?” Lan Zhan asks, voice low.

“Hm,” Wei Ying says, placing more weight on his shoulders so that his hips angle towards Lan Zhan’s view. The stainless steel is cool through his thin shirt, but Lan Zhan promises heat. “Did my jie tell you to take it slow with me? She always says that when she’s trying to set me up.”

Lan Zhan’s eyebrows furrow minutely, and Wei Ying figures he did not expect Wei Ying to know about Yanli-jie’s plans. Wei Ying’s life is ridiculous enough; this is one absurd situation he wants to embrace. “Yes.”

“And you came to my house this quickly the first day we met.”

“You wanted ice cream,” Lan Zhan repeats.

Wei Ying raises his shirt to scratch at his belly. Lan Zhan takes a step closer, transfixed, almost like the movement was unconscious. Wei Ying bites his lip to keep from smiling too big. “Do you think that’s all I want?” Lan Zhan’s lips part, but he doesn’t say anything. “I want you to take me,” Wei Ying admits. “I don’t want to go slow, I don’t wanna play coy, I want you insi—ah!” he gasps, head knocking back against the fridge when Lan Zhan rushes over and leans down to kiss him fiercely, his broad hands grabbing at Wei Ying’s back and hips, lifting him up before Wei Ying even processes the kiss, his legs automatically going around Lan Zhan’s waist at the disruption of gravity. Lan Zhan’s mouth is rough and—mean, way meaner than Wei Ying expected, although he supposes that, yeah, Lan Zhan was right about questioning what behavior Wei Ying could expect when he freaks out every time Lan Zhan returns his flirting. Wei Ying moans into the kiss when Lan Zhan forces his tongue inside his mouth, the wet and insistent pressure taking Wei Ying’s breath away so easily. The kiss is biting, bruising, and so are Lan Zhan’s hands when he grabs Wei Ying’s ass to hitch him higher up around his hip, so is the harsh beat in Wei Ying’s heart when Lan Zhan pushes back from the fridge and carries Wei Ying the short distance to his counter island without breaking the kiss. He feels lightheaded.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, gasping a few times at the sharpness of Lan Zhan’s teeth when he moves his mouth down to Wei Ying’s jaw and neck. He bites so much, like it’s not enough to lick or suck at the skin, but he wants to make Wei Ying hurt, at least this much, and imagining all the many ways Lan Zhan could hurt him makes Wei Ying whimper, his neck falling back and his legs spreading wider to pull Lan Zhan closer in and ease the desperate pulse of his dick. “Lan Zhan—”

“You’re gorgeous,” Lan Zhan breathes into his ear, biting first Wei Ying’s earlobe then the thin flesh under his ear. “You… you are so…” but he doesn’t finish his thought and surges back up to kiss Wei Ying breathless again, his mouth insistent against Wei Ying’s.

“Coming from you,” Wei Ying says, his nails tight on Lan Zhan shoulders, hot and embarrassed from Lan Zhan’s compliment.

Lan Zhan pulls back just enough to make brief eye contact with Wei Ying and ask, because he’s insane, deranged, easily the hottest person Wei Ying has ever seen, “can I eat you out?”

“Oh my fucking fuck,” Wei Ying says eloquently. “Yes. Obviously yes, seven thousand times yes, I swear I’ve showered, Lan Zhan, yes.” He’s only gotten eaten out once before, by his first boyfriend when they were both drunk and Wei Ying thought he might break up with him if all he got was five minutes of jackrabbiting and a half-assed handjob. He sucked at sex, almost like he was bad on purpose, but even his clumsy tongue made Wei Ying come, and there’s no way Lan Zhan is bad at sex, Wei Ying just can’t imagine anywhere in the multiverse where this beautiful and intense man, who teases Wei Ying back even over text message and kisses like he’s fucking Wei Ying’s mouth and bites him everywhere without a centimeter of public decency, will be clumsy anywhere.

As Wei Ying ramps himself up with his thoughts, Lan Zhan kneels down in front of the low counter and pulls Wei Ying’s thighs until Wei Ying’s waist teeters at the edge of the island, his knees held up. “Ge, not here, fuck, this is so insanitary, my room isn’t even far, I have to eat here!”

“I also must eat here,” Lan Zhan says, even as ever, but when Wei Ying strains his neck to catch a glance, the glint in Lan Zhan’s honey-gold eyes reveals he is too pleased with himself.

“You’re obscene,” Wei Ying laughs. He’s perfect. He lights up with glee when Lan Zhan pulls Wei Ying’s shorts off, and now he feels pleased with himself when Lan Zhan sucks in a sharp breath at the bare skin and obvious stretch where Wei Ying knows he’s slick. Lan Zhan doesn’t say anything more when his fingers reach up to rub around Wei Ying’s hole, but Wei Ying continues, “you’re obscene, to think you would be so inappropriate at the dinner table! To think my poor jie set my fates to be taken in my kitchen by this mean, rough stranger, so unclean, so impatient—!” Wei Ying doesn’t get to finish his rambling; Lan Zhan cuts him off with will pay for cleaning bill and pulls Wei Ying even closer by the thigh so that he can—so he can—oh, fuck, Wei Ying thinks, and then all coherent thought is wiped from his mind by Lan Zhan’s tongue.

In the most adept of perfect, perfect cliches, Lan Zhan eats him out like he kisses, insistent and wet, the soft and grainy plane of his tongue swiping over Wei Ying’s hole, over and over until Wei Ying squirms, trying so desperately around the high noises in his throat and his forearm over his prickling eyes to angle Lan Zhan’s tongue inside. Wei Ying can’t believe that he thought his ex-boyfriend was okay, there was nothing okay about that, that feels like a sick distortion of what Lan Zhan can do with his mouth. Lan Zhan drags his soft mouth around Wei Ying’s rim, loose kisses and shaky breaths like, like, even as he aims for breath, he can’t get enough of having Wei Ying like this, of having Wei Ying twist and cry out from his mouth.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying manages, “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, you’re too much, how can you make me feel so good, your mouth is perfect, I only want ge—ge—hnnmph,” he keens high as his thighs close around Lan Zhan’s head when he starts working his tongue in, slow, broad licks in and in until Wei Ying relaxes that much more, his body arching and then collapsing on the counter to let Lan Zhan press his way inside. Wei Ying feels like the obscene one now, endless pitched moans pulled from his throat with every intent fuck inside. He is so wet he drips with it, and it makes him shudder and flush all over to imagine Lan Zhan’s face wet from eating Wei Ying out, the lube from Wei Ying’s earlier prep only making his persistent and slick tongue more successful in its apparent quest to to get Wei Ying as sloppy as possible. And, ah, fuck, Wei Ying feels sloppy.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying pants, every other word out of his mouth is Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, “Lan Zhan, I want you inside, I want you in me.”

“Am in you,” Lan Zhan breathes when he pulls his tongue out and presses three long fingers in to the last knuckle, curving up at Wei Ying’s—he doesn’t even know what sound he makes, he is out of breath and out of his mind, and the only descriptors that matter are how—intently—Lan—

“Zhan-ge,” he whines, “too much, you’re pressing on it too much, it’ll hurt, it’ll—” but Lan Zhan only presses deeper, his mean, mean fingers rubbing where Wei Ying is most sensitive. “I, I, you’re…”

“I’m?” Lan Zhan asks, and teases a fourth finger around Wei Ying’s wet rim, and Wei Ying doesn’t have a second to catch his breath before it begins to press in, too, and he writhes, his hair falling over his eyes when he shakes his head to try to clear it, try to have just a semblance of rational thought around the burn, all while Lan Zhan’s fingers maintain their torture inside of him.

“Hurts,” he gasps, “burns, that’s, it burns, I won’t be able to take it.”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan says. He kisses Wei Ying’s inner thigh. “If you can’t take four, how’re you gonna take me?” Lan Zhan doesn’t sound like he’s bragging, which makes it worse, Wei Ying’s heart picking up with speed and anticipation.

“Can’t be that big,” Wei Ying taunts, still squirming. Lan Zhan’s free hand grips his thigh hard until he stops moving.

“Mn,” Lan Zhan hums noncommittally.

It is that big. Wei Ying manages to relax enough to take a fourth finger after Lan Zhan eases up on his prostate and plays with his rim, gentle stretches and his tongue licking between tight spaces to get Wei Ying wetter. It makes Wei Ying flush, the dirty pressure Lan Zhan puts into opening him up, so that even the ache morphs into something indescribable. It feels so good. It feels better than he ever imagined he could feel. When Lan Zhan stands back up, he graces Wei Ying with a deceptively sweet kiss and soft bite on his bottom lip before pushing his cock into Wei Ying, steady and consistent movement until his hips press to Wei Ying’s ass, Wei Ying moaning all the while. He feels overwhelmed. For a few moments, he can’t even breathe, eyes shut tight and his mouth pooled with spit. He doesn't have the energy to swallow down.

“Breathe,” Lan Zhan says, running a hand up Wei Ying’s side as he rocks slowly into Wei Ying.

“I can’t, I can’t,” Wei Ying says, but speaking forces him to breathe, and for a second, that’s worse, he’s stuffed so full it hurts, but then he exhales and relaxes and, oh, he’s stuffed so full he never wants to leave this moment. “Oh,” he says, and then Lan Zhan fucks him.

Wei Ying feels like a virgin, having to take Lan Zhan like this; like this is the first time he’s ever been fucked, like every harsh thrust forward will split him apart. His neck is thrown far back, and Lan Zhan takes that as free territory, working his mouth over Wei Ying’s clavicle, deepening the marks he left earlier, biting into the sensitive and raw skin. Wei Ying is thankful, thankful beyond words or sense, both of which he lacks in measure right now, at Lan Zhan’s steady grip holding his thighs up and apart as he shoves his cock into Wei Ying over and over again, his pace relentless, rough, impatient, so, so impatient, every halfway pull out of Wei Ying tempered by those sharp hips slamming back in.

Wei Ying—he can’t say that he gets used to it, that’s impossible, every time Lan Zhan pushes in his nails claw at Lan Zhan’s back like Wei Ying is reduced down to the mindless animal flesh of his desires, but he is coherent enough to pant in Lan Zhan’s ear, “gege, you feel so good, you were right, your cock is so big inside me,” and Wei Ying feels himself get even wetter, Lan Zhan inhaling roughly and pulsing precome deep inside, “ah, ge, it’s so—it’s so good, I’ve never, I’ve—”

“Shut up,” Lan Zhan bites out, his light eyes dilated and dark, his hands tightening on Wei Ying’s thighs until Wei Ying yelps with pain. It feels perfect.

He huffs out a laugh, half-delirious with pleasure, and doesn’t shut up: “I’ve never been fucked like this before, Zhan-ge, it’s like I’ve never been fucked before at all, you feel—ah! Wait, Lan Zhan, that’s too deep, you’re too deep, I can’t breathe—”

“Then shut up,” Lan Zhan says. He raises his head from Wei Ying’s neck, his mouth swollen and the lower half of his face still wet from eating Wei Ying out, and Wei Ying feels an inexplicable fondness in his throat at the sight of him. He moves a hand around to run his thumb over Lan Zhan’s red earlobe, and moans into Lan Zhan’s mouth when he sweeps down to kiss Wei Ying.

“But gege feels so good inside me,” Wei Ying murmurs into his mouth, wrapping his arms back around Lan Zhan’s neck. “Does it feel good for you? Being inside of me?” Lan Zhan’s hips stutter, and Wei Ying feels smug satisfaction for half a second, just half a second, before Lan Zhan presses deep and fucks in harder, the sweat-sticky slap of his balls on Wei Ying’s ass making Wei Ying blush hot everywhere from embarrassment and pleasure.

“Feels perfect inside Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, licking over Wei Ying’s bottom lip, and Wei Ying whimpers, his hole tightening around the pressure inside of him.

“Okay, I lied, don’t answer any of my questions, I can’t take it,” he rushes out. Lan Zhan smiles against his mouth and spreads his thighs wider.

It’s so nice, getting fucked like this. Wei Ying feels hazy and out of it, mind wiped free of everything but Lan Zhan’s thick and heavy cock shoved into him, fucking him all the way to oblivion. Lan Zhan is perfect at fucking Wei Ying, perfect at fucking him, perfect at changing his angle so that his dick presses more purposely against Wei Ying’s prostate, perfect at rubbing his thumb over the slit of Wei Ying’s cock until tears pool in his eyes and Wei Ying whines, “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, I’m gonna come, you’re gonna make me come, really, I, I, I can’t—take it anymore, Lan Zhan,” endless babbling until Lan Zhan bites down on his neck again and he spurts out wet onto Lan Zhan’s ceaseless fingers.

Lan Zhan groans when Wei Ying comes, Wei Ying’s hole squeezing around his cock as the pleasure overtakes him, but he doesn’t stop. He fucks Wei Ying through his orgasm and it’s good, right, but too good, tilts over the edge of too much, until Wei Ying feels raw and sensitive and like every push forward will be the one to break him apart. He loves that, more than he could’ve ever expected, loves how Lan Zhan holds his waist down and keeps fucking hard inside of him when Wei Ying squirms away from the burn.

“Gege,” Wei Ying pants, lips pressed loosely to Lan Zhan’s, “ge, I want you to come in me, I wanna feel your cock get bigger in me, I wanna feel how wet you get me, wanna feel how much—you—ah, yes, Lan Zhan, yes, yes,” when Lan Zhan hides a low noise into Wei Ying’s neck as his cock twitches pulse after pulse of hot come into Wei Ying’s hole. “Too much, Lan Zhan, oh my god, how is there so much—” until Lan Zhan shuts him up with his mouth and a sharp thrust forward. There’s so much of it, Wei Ying thinks for a wild moment that he’ll be locked here for hours, held tight and leaking around Lan Zhan’s cock as he keeps coming and coming. That would be a dream.



5 —

The next morning, after brushing, Wei Ying walks out from his room in Lan Zhan’s discarded white button-down and finds a ridiculous spread of food on his coffee table. Lan Zhan is sitting on the dark blue and plush armchair Jin Zixuan got him as a housewarming gift, one that is begrudgingly his favorite despite being a vast waste of money. Okay, maybe not a waste of money when it makes Wei Ying so happy, but pretty much all non-familial things Jin Zixuan does is a waste of money, with maybe this one exception. Ugh, Wei Ying can hear the jiejie in his head that reminds him he is family, too.

Last night, after Wei Ying rode Lan Zhan in this chair and told Lan Zhan off for desecrating Wei Ying’s favorite chair, he learned that Lan Zhan had been the one to pick it out, when Jin Zixuan guilted him into going shopping, so if anyone deserves to ruin it, it’s him. Lan Zhan has the worst mouth, and Wei Ying likes him so much.

“Good morning,” Lan Zhan says behind a takeout cup of tea, the string hanging out and Lan Zhan’s hand covering almost the entire thing. Wei Ying feels a deep thrum in his gut at remembrance of all those hands can do. Lan Zhan isn’t even wearing a shirt right now, so obscene, just his jeans with the top button popped open. Obscene. Unfair and obscene.

“You are so mean,” Wei Ying says, and walks over to plop himself down and straddle Lan Zhan’s lap. He’s not wearing underwear or pants, and if Lan Zhan didn’t want Wei Ying to view him as a seat replacement from now until forever, then he shouldn’t have come in Wei Ying so many times. Lan Zhan steadies him with a hand on his ass, keeping Wei Ying from tilting backwards. “You are the meanest person ever. Feed me.”

“Why am I mean?” Lan Zhan says. He leans them forward to put his tea down and grab a plate of jian bing to tear into scraps and feed gently to Wei Ying with his warm and pretty fingers. “Don’t talk when you chew,” he adds when Wei Ying opens his mouth to lament his woes.

Wei Ying swallows. “You came in me so much and now I can’t walk.” He looks up at Lan Zhan and revels in the darkening of his eyes.

“Yet you walked here,” Lan Zhan says.

“With much difficulty!” Wei Ying protests. “It was too much, Lan Zhan, I’m probably pregnant, did you even think about that? Did you consider the future consequences when you fucked me raw three times?”

Lan Zhan’s ears go pink, and when Wei Ying shifts in his lap, just to check, he feels the swell of arousal under Lan Zhan’s jeans. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You are a bad, bad man, Zhan-gege,” Wei Ying says. “So like the rich! Having money doesn’t absolve you of consequences, Lan Zhan, taking me so cruelly out of wedlock and now dismissing my conc—” Lan Zhan’s hand tightens on his ass, fingers sliding where Wei Ying is still wet, and kisses him quiet. Wei Ying definitely won the battle and the war.



5.5 —

An hour later, Wei Ying flat on his back with his legs spread and wrapped around Lan Zhan’s waist, Lan Zhan rocking into Wei Ying’s hole as he releases the last bursts of come into Wei Ying:

“Now you’re pregnant,” Lan Zhan says, mouth even and eyes bright. Wei Ying flushes and covers his face, appalled, disgusted, outraged, he tells Lan Zhan, by his behavior. Behind his hands, Wei Ying hears Lan Zhan laugh softly. Okay, a minor battle lost, but Wei Ying still thinks he won this war.