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The first time Wei Ying rides her bike past the living room window, Lan Zhan thinks she’s hallucinating. Or perhaps she’s fallen asleep in the daytime. She has never done either of those things, but she has never seen Wei Ying in her neighborhood, either. Even the peers that happen to be her neighbors don’t tend to mess around near the Lan household, afraid that Lan-laoshi will see them and find some way to make it a problem at school.
Lan Qiren is too logical for such things usually, but Wei Ying tends to push him to his limit.
As Wei Ying passes by again, Lan Zhan looks up just long enough to catch sight of her red hair ribbon as she sails past, the maple burst of color raised by the wind and tangled in her long, dark ponytail. Lan Zhan frowns at her essay questions. She is six minutes behind her self-imposed goal.
Lan Zhan catches up to her goal, but as she’s reading over her answers and checking for errors, she sees that red flash again at the very edge of her vision. She looks up in time to see Wei Ying laughing, her head thrown back, the long expanse of her throat pale even while the rest of her skin holds onto its summer tan.
The pen makes a sharp cracking sound in her hand; Lan Zhan has to hurriedly stand and run to the kitchen as ink runs down her fingers, black and more watery than she would have expected. Lan Qiren finds her in the bathroom, pouring rubbing alcohol onto her palm to get the stain out.
“I’m fine,” she says before he can ask. “Only an accident.” Her pulse races in her veins, heart pounding after such a break in composure. It was only a laugh.
She sees Lan Qiren nod in the mirror. “I will finish with work in the next twenty minutes.” After that, he’ll start dinner—it isn’t good to eat later than six in the evening.
Lan Zhan nods into the mirror in return. Her hand is clean now, if a little red. Lan Qiren departs back to his study. Lan Zhan goes back to the living room and sits at the piano.
Flowing through several of her favorite warm-up pieces, Lan Zhan slips into the familiar rhythm of composition. Lan Qiren will be in his study for eleven more minutes, at least. Perhaps Lan Zhan can make progress on the song. The last time she tried to do so openly, Lan Qiren asked who the composer was. Though he would have encouraged her to try her hand at composition, she had felt uncertain and told him it was a new piece she was exploring in the vaguest terms possible.
It would be wrong to lie to her uncle, but it felt wrong to share this song with anyone else. Anyone except—
An errant note emerges from her fingers as she sees a red at the corner of her eye. No one but Lan Zhan would know it was misplaced, but she still trails off, bringing the unfinished piece to a stop and staring resolutely at the keys. Four times. Wei Ying has never been spotted on this street, yet now she rides her bike past Lan Zhan’s window four times in one hour. Despite the late autumn chill, her shoulders are definitely bare, and a long portion of her legs, too.
Lan Zhan silently shuts the piano and gets to her feet. Lan Qiren will be in his study for two more minutes, then he will start to make dinner.
She puts her blue jacket on and selects a grey one from the hook near the door, folding it over her arm before heading outside. Lan Zhan looks down the street in the direction Wei Ying was headed, both arms folded under the jacket, waiting until she sees a splotch of cherry that gets bigger as Wei Ying rides her bike back into view. When she sees Lan Zhan, Wei Ying waves in a big, dramatic motion, speeding up then skidding to a stop right in front of her.
“Lan Zhan!” she says, exuberant as always. Her cheeks are flushed pink. “I didn’t know you lived here. Are you waiting for someone to pick you up?”
Having expected Wei Ying to be here on purpose, Lan Zhan is briefly lost for words. If she isn’t trying to pull some stunt, or annoy Lan Qiren, then what is Wei Ying doing here? She should be home, or with her friends. Wei Ying always has people around her. Why is she here on her own if not to make trouble?
Slowly, Lan Zhan shakes her head. “What are you doing here?” she asks.
“Oh, just exploring.” Wei Ying fiddles absently with the gaudy decorations on her handlebars. “Did you know your street is almost perfectly level?” She smiles at Lan Zhan directly, who feels it like a hot knife in her side. Warmth spills through her from the wound. “I can ride around here all day and never get tired. It’s barely any work at all! Going downhill would be even less, but then I’d have to ride uphill again at some point, and that’s the worst. Do you have a bike, Lan Zhan?”
“I ride it to school,” Lan Zhan reminds her, stiff with annoyance over something so insignificant. She cannot expect Wei Ying to remember such things about her. She has no reason to.
(Wei Ying rides the bus to school with Jiang Cheng. This year alone, as they’d stepped off the bus, she has ruffled Jiang Cheng’s hair 44 times. Two fours. A bad omen.)
Wei Ying looks down at Lan Zhan’s legs. “I always wondered how you got such powerful thighs. I thought you were using your feet to play piano or something.”
“I am also on the football team,” Lan Zhan says through gritted teeth.
When Wei Ying grins, her tongue pokes out between her teeth just a bit—only the very tip, pink and shiny and pointing directly at Lan Zhan. “They say you might make captain next year, but I told them I couldn’t see it. Lan Zhan, telling people what to do before they break the rules?” Wei Ying laughs and shakes her head. “No way.”
At this point, Lan Zhan’s grip on the jacket is so tight she’s running the risk of tearing it. Slowly uncurling the fingers of her left hand, Lan Zhan thrusts it out toward Wei Ying with her right, hating the way her stomach twists at Wei Ying’s surprise. This was a foolish endeavor from the start.
“Take it,” Lan Zhan says.
Wei Ying just stares at it, eyes round. Lan Zhan can only handle so much of that before she steps down off the sidewalk and into Wei Ying’s space, putting the coat over Wei Ying’s shoulders herself. When she tries to adjust it, Wei Ying finally reacts, grabbing her arm with a strange expression.
“Who are you,” she asks, “Old Man Lan? Gonna tell me I can’t bare my midriff and my shorts are too short?”
It is too cold to wear the clothes that Wei Ying is describing. Even putting the coat over her shoulders, Lan Zhan’s knuckles brushed over just enough skin to feel that Wei Ying is freezing. Goosebumps are visible up and down her arms. Lan Zhan’s eyes stray across her chest, where she sees a hint of Wei Ying’s nipples poking out through what appears to be a sport’s bra. Her eyes snap back up to Wei Ying’s.
“You’re cold,” Lan Zhan says.
Wei Ying gives a scandalized look and crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m not!” Her mouth is set in a stubborn frown. “And even if I was, it’s not like I had a lot of options!”
Options? “Explain,” Lan Zhan demands.
Wei Ying wiggles her hands further underneath the jacket, which is still only barely hanging off her shoulders. “Options? They’re different choices available to you depending on the situation.” She mockingly shakes her head. “Oh how the mighty have fallen. Didn’t we tie for top of class last year?”
Kicking her foot off the ground, Wei Ying actually starts trying to pedal away. Lan Zhan stands in front of her, holding the handlebars with both hands, while Wei Ying tries to push her backwards and out of the way with the strength of her legs alone. Her face scrunches in concentration, a furrow between her brow, lip caught between her teeth.
Lan Zhan waits.
“You are awful,” Wei Ying says.
“Try again.” She can call Lan Zhan anything she wants. No ‘options’ implies that she has nowhere to go, or no jacket to wear. Either answer fills Lan Zhan with rage.
Wei Ying keeps her feet on the pedals, forcing Lan Zhan to hold her up. She could let Wei Ying fall, perhaps, but it seems like the wrong time—as tempting as it sounds.
“I was just whining,” Wei Ying says, looking squarely at where she’s tapping her thumb against one handle of the bike. “You know me! Drama queen. I get a paper cut and have to run home to jiejie so she’ll kiss it.” Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. A silent staccato borne from something that is most definitely not Wei Ying’s usual dramatics. “So can you let go now? I have to—I have places to be.”
Not I have to go home. Not even I have to get to Sangsang’s house. There’s no proof that Wei Ying needs help, no desperate pleas for rescue. But her shoulders are more tense than Lan Zhan has ever seen them.
“Or,” Lan Zhan offers, “you can come in.”
Wei Ying sneers. “So you can throw me an imaginary pity party?”
Not exactly, but Lan Zhan’s instinct to make sure Wei Ying is taken care of isn’t one that’s apt to go over well. She can see that. If only she were more like Wei Ying: always quick to think of something clever to say, something distracting, funny, even hurtful. All Lan Zhan has is this beast inside her that wants to swallow Wei Ying alive and keep her warm in its belly, sheltered from the world and the cold and the scent of Jiang Cheng’s awful-smelling shampoo on her fingertips.
“So I can tell my brother I’ve had a sleepover.”
Wei Ying stares at her.
“He worries I am antisocial,” Lan Zhan explains. “I am honest with him.” She tries to say help me but the words stick in her throat. They are much too close to a lie: Lan Zhan is not the one in danger.
In danger of driving herself insane, perhaps.
Slowly, Wei Ying’s mouth curves in the direction of a smile. “He’s worried, living so far away?”
Lan Zhan nods. Wei Ying laughs mostly under her breath. “You’re not a good liar, are you?”
“I am honest,” she repeats.
Wei Ying puts her foot back down on the road. “At least there’s that.” Her leg swings over the seat in a long arch, reminding Lan Zhan how tall she is; though Lan Zhan is tall for a girl, Wei Ying is nearly of height with her. “Where should I park my bike?”
Lan Zhan puts it away next to her mountain bike, which Wei Ying dubs “Cool!” They take off their shoes and head inside, where the house is filled with the subtle scent of roasted vegetables and tofu.
This will take care of itself, really. Wei Ying doesn’t have to feel like an ass for refusing the most words Lan Zhan has ever said to her in a row, but there’s no way Lan Qiren will invite Wei Ying to stay. Why would he? He dislikes Wei Ying even more than Lan Zhan does.
The inside of the Lan household is only a little less boring than Wei Ying expected. She inspects the entryway as she hangs Lan Zhan’s jacket on a hook: rather than muted, lifeless tones everywhere, the muted, lifeless walls are accented with art. It isn’t full of mosaics of color or huge tapestries, but it’s enough to add vibrancy to the setting.
“Shufu,” Lan Zhan says. Lan Qiren had come out of the kitchen to greet her, and looks between them with slightly narrowed eyes. “I have asked Wei Ying to spend the night.”
Is that surprise in Lan Qiren’s expression? Wei Ying can’t be sure, since she’s never seen him make such a face. “Tonight?”
Lan Zhan nods. Wei Ying fights the urge to give a thumbs up when Lan Qiren looks at her, then has to fight a desperate giggle. Lan Qiren turns back to Lan Zhan.
“I made enough for leftovers,” he says with a sigh, sending a jolt through Wei Ying. Does that mean he wants her to stay?
Oh, no.
Lan Qiren waves them both inside. Lan Zhan follows him into the kitchen, but Wei Ying slouches into a seat at the dining room table. She jumps a little when Lan Zhan comes back to set the table.
“You should clean up,” Lan Qiren says from the kitchen threshold. “Dinner is nearly ready.”
Wei Ying scoots her seat out too quickly, scraping against the floor. Flushing hot, she gets up and heads jerkily down the most likely hall. Thankfully, there’s a bathroom this way, so she doesn’t need to turn around. Wei Ying locks herself inside and grips the edge of the sink.
Something about the idea of dinner with the two of them is terrifying.
Her pulse races and her breathing tries to match it, in and out in little wheezes. She can’t get a handle on it. Wei Ying grips the sink harder, looking to the side and spotting a shelf with various products, including a fragrance bottle of some kind.
One thing she’s always liked about Lan Zhan is her scent. It’s sandalwood, which isn’t supposed to be comforting, but it is in its own way. Curious, Wei Ying picks up the bottle. She can’t smell it, even with her nose close to the nozzle, so she sprays it into the air in front of the mirror. It’s barely there, that scent…
Flushing hard, Wei Ying sprays just a little on her wrist. She talks with her hands, so it’ll waft over her every time, and the comforting power will work its magic.
When Wei Ying returns to the dining room and gets within smelling distance, Lan Zhan stares at her, eyes wide with confusion and disbelief. Wei Ying flushes redder. She’s felt weird ever since Lan Zhan invited her inside. Maybe since they met?
Then a wave of bitter smells hits her, and Wei Ying forgets all about that. Lan Qiren is serving dinner, and it’s… bitter vegetables and tofu over rice? It seems seasoned, at least—maybe that accounts for the bitterness. It certainly drowns out the sandalwood scent.
Wei Ying takes her seat. “Thank you for having me,” she says, the manners Yu-ayi hammered into her again and again shining through.
Eating this can’t be worse than the melon rinds she wrestled from the mouths of dogs when she was orphaned. Those had dog saliva on them. Comparatively? This is easy.
She takes a bite, bitter vinegar overwhelming on her tongue, and barely stops herself from gagging. It’s going to be a long meal.
Considering how much heat Wei Ying adds to her lunches at school, Lan Zhan is impressed with her ability to make it through the bowl, though she can tell by Wei Ying’s downcast gaze that it’s a struggle. After dinner, Wei Ying and Lan Zhan wash the dishes. Lan Qiren is peeling loquats when they finish. There are two resting on their side of the cutting board; Wei Ying avoids eye contact when she takes hers. Lan Zhan wonders, between this and her earlier meek behavior, if she’s sadder than she let on before.
They eat their loquats on the way to Lan Zhan’s room. Wei Ying goes to close the door, but Lan Zhan catches it, very cognizant of the rules that come with her honesty.
“What?” Wei Ying asks.
“Keep the door open,” Lan Zhan commands.
“Why?” Wei Ying asks.
She could say it’s a rule, but Wei Ying is prone to questioning those. Lan Zhan decides to skip that part. “I am a lesbian.”
The silence between them feels heavier. Before Lan Zhan can go on, Wei Ying has plopped down on the floor of Lan Zhan’s bedroom. From this angle, it’s impossible for Lan Zhan to ignore that she could pin Wei Ying down right now, easily. She could make Wei Ying stay for a long time.
“So,” Wei Ying says, pulling a knee up to her chest and shattering the fantasy, “you have to keep the door open because Lan Qiren knows?”
“I am honest.”
Wei Ying laughs a little strangely. “Yeah. Sure! I just wasn’t expecting that.”
She needs more context. “Which part?”
“The lesbian part. Actually, the Lan Qiren being cool with it part? Both of them.”
Lan Zhan stares at her. Strangely, she isn’t nervous. “Do you have a problem?”
“No!” The answer is much too fast, and Wei Ying seems to realize it, ducking her head a bit shyly. “It’s just—you’re the first lesbian I’ve ever met,” Wei Ying admits.
There are many ways to unpack that statement, but Lan Zhan elects to put that off. She needs to let Wei Ying get comfortable, so she nods; Wei Ying’s shoulders drop in response, tension easing a little.
“Do you need clothes to change into?” Lan Zhan asks. “I can give you something to sleep in.”
“I’d like that,” says Wei Ying.
So Lan Zhan searches for something that will fit her. Her sweatpants might be long, but they’ll fit over Wei Ying’s curves. Lan Zhan’s t-shirt might be big at the shoulders, but Wei Ying will probably look cozy in it. When Lan Zhan hands them over, Wei Ying mumbles “thanks” and locks herself in the bathroom. Just one wall between her and Lan Zhan.
And she starts taking her clothes off. Right there. She’s probably—
Lan Zhan flops back down on the bed, invisible heat spreading across her face and flushing her ears, her heart racing in her chest. This crush situation wasn’t supposed to affect her so deeply.
Wei Ying has to psych herself up a few times to exit the bathroom and return to Lan Zhan’s bedroom. She had no idea she’d like wearing Lan Zhan’s clothes so much. For some reason, she remembers the time Jiang Yanli explained what her crush on Jin Zixuan felt like, so Wei Ying could try and understand. Wei Ying thought it was pretty silly to like wearing a sweater from Jin Zixuan so much, but there’s a flock of birds lodged in her chest that are changing her mind every time they flap their little wings.
Are gay thoughts truly contagious?
Forcing a deep breath, Wei Ying waits until she seems normal enough to leave the bathroom. The first thing she sees upon returning is Lan Zhan in her sleep clothes, braiding her own hair. The strands all cross neatly, despite a lot of them being behind Lan Zhan’s head. She's almost as good as Jiang Yanli. “You’re good at that,” Wei Ying admits. “Will you braid my hair next?”
Lan Zhan pauses to nod over her shoulder. “Let’s do two braids,” Wei Ying says while she heads over to where Lan Zhan is sitting on the bed, grabbing a couple hair ties from the nightstand as she goes. “I know you probably don’t wanna match with me.” She sits on the ground facing away from Lan Zhan, pushing her shoulders between Lan Zhan’s knees, and holds up the ties. Lan Zhan doesn’t answer as she takes them, but an awkward hand pats her hair a moment later. “Turn your head,” Lan Zhan says, moving Wei Ying’s head as she speaks.
“Okay.”
As Lan Zhan parts Wei Ying’s hair, she asks, “How were you going to finish tomorrow’s essay questions?”
“I wasn’t,” Wei Ying says with a laugh. “Haven’t you ever skipped an assignment?”
Expecting the answer, Wei Ying silently mouths ‘no’ as Lan Zhan says it aloud. “You should try it,” Wei Ying advises. “A little rule-breaking now and then is good for you. Skip the homework and do something fun!”
Lan Zhan ties off the braid and turns Wei Ying’s head in the other direction, reaching over Wei Ying’s shoulder and moving her with one big hand on her jaw. Wei Ying wonders why she didn’t ask first, but Lan Zhan’s hand is warm, and Wei Ying’s stomach drops when she lets go.
“The assignments are engaging,” Lan Zhan says.
Wei Ying bursts out laughing. “Of course,” she gasps. “Of course Lan Zhan would say homework is fun! Don’t you do anything that’s just fun?”
There’s a long pause before Lan Zhan says, “Reading.” Wei Ying almost ruins her braid, distracted as she is by laughing. How is it that someone so stuffy and plain can be so funny?
“Don’t worry, Lan Zhan. Now that you’ve accepted we’re friends, I’ll make you do all sorts of fun things with me,” Wei Ying assures her.
Lan Zhan ties off the second braid. “Did I?”
Wei Ying tries to whip her head around and nearly tears out her own hair. “Ow! Only friends have sleepovers, Lan Zhan, you can’t take it back now!”
Letting go of Wei Ying’s hair, Lan Zhan grabs Wei Ying under her arms and stands up, lifting Wei Ying along with her, who yelps as she struggles to balance on her feet. “Hush,” Lan Zhan warns.
“Not my fault you go around picking people up without asking! What are you so strong for?”
Lan Zhan goes to her desk and pulls out the chair, turning to look at Wei Ying expectantly. Wei Ying has no idea why. “Sit down,” Lan Zhan says when Wei Ying doesn’t move.
“Why?”
“I will give you the questions and materials.”
“You can’t!” Wei Ying sits on Lan Zhan’s bed instead, scooting all the way to the far edge and crossing her arms. “It’s a sleepover. We’re having fun. No homework.”
“I am having fun,” Lan Zhan says, her face as serious as always. Wei Ying nearly breaks, but she remains stubborn, not wanting to give Lan Zhan the satisfaction.
She can see that Lan Zhan is unwilling to take her advice, despite Wei Ying having a lot of friends and having been to a lot of sleepovers. Scrambling for another excuse, she says, “I hate essay questions, anyway. Why can’t I just tell the teacher what the answer is?”
Lan Zhan stares at her for a moment, then sits down in the desk chair. “Tell me,” she says, grabbing a notebook and pen.
“Tell you what?”
“I will ask the essay questions,” Lan Zhan explains. “Tell me the answers.”
“And what? You’ll write them down?”
Lan Zhan nods. Wei Ying feels trapped, like she’s lost a game she didn’t realize she was playing. Or maybe she just didn’t realize her opponent had the capacity to win.
“Fine,” she says, flopping down onto Lan Zhan’s pillows. “But I’m stealing your bed.”
Lan Qiren knocks on the open door at eight-thirty sharp. Lan Zhan looks up from reading over her transcription of Wei Ying’s words and nods.
After he leaves, Wei Ying asks, “What was that? Checking in to make sure you haven’t had your way with me?” She waggles her eyebrows from the bed, but Lan Zhan catches the blush spreading down Wei Ying’s neck, her cheeks pink where her head is pressed against Lan Zhan’s pillow.
“Shameless,” Lan Zhan chides. Wei Ying sticks out her tongue. “We should prepare for bed,” Lan Zhan says, staring at the wall and counting to five in her mind.
Wei Ying sits up suddenly, her braids already messy from how many times she rolled around on top of Lan Zhan’s blankets. “But it’s so early!”
Lan Zhan gestures to her bedside alarm clock. “It is eight-thirty.”
“Yeah,” Wei Ying says, drawing out the sound. “It’s early. You go to bed at this time every night?”
“By nine,” Lan Zhan replies, making her way to the bathroom. She does her routine with as much cold water as she can, hating the heat on her cheeks regardless of the fact that her face doesn’t flush. By the time she returns, Wei Ying has relocated to the desk chair and pushed it out from the desk, spinning in slow circles by pushing her foot against Lan Zhan’s bed. “Lan Zhan,” she says, continuing to spin, “why are you so boring?”
Lan Zhan gets a blank folder from the desk drawer and puts Wei Ying’s essay questions inside so she won’t crinkle the paper when she takes them with her, ignoring Wei Ying’s question.
“Now that we’ve become best friends—” Lan Zhan distinctly remembers no such thing occurring. “—I’ll have to take you out sometime. We’ll… We can go see a movie! And stay up until eleven. Could you make it, or would you fall asleep? I’d keep you awake. If I saw you falling asleep I’d pinch you. What kind of movies do you like, Lan Zhan?”
She hesitates, torn between refusing to indulge Wei Ying’s awful sleep schedule and the urge to agree. Going to a movie is often considered a date-like activity. Lan Zhan’s palms tingle.
“Good ones,” she answers, never having felt drawn to one genre in particular. If the film captures her interest, that’s all it needs to do or be. This answer also avoids choosing between staying out after curfew and going to a movie with Wei Ying. It’s all very neat.
Wei Ying stops spinning and sighs dramatically, but before she can rant more about Lan Zhan’s lifestyle and habits, Lan Qiren returns. “I’ve made up Lan Huan’s bed,” he tells Wei Ying. “It’s the room on the opposite end of the hall.”
“Thanks, Lan-laoshi.” When Lan Qiren doesn’t move, Wei Ying hops to her feet, looking between him and Lan Zhan. “Uh, I’ll just. Head over there?”
Lan Qiren nods and turns to Lan Zhan. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Shufu.”
Wei Ying shifts her weight side to side for a moment, looking at Lan Zhan. “I guess this means goodnight for us, huh?”
It is fascinating to see Wei Ying so well-behaved, even as she chides Lan Zhan for being boring. This behavior does nothing to dispel Lan Zhan’s theory that Wei Ying had nowhere to go for the night. She folds her hand behind her back and curls it into a fist. “Goodnight, Wei Ying.”
In a sudden movement, Wei Ying darts forward and wraps her arms around Lan Zhan in a hug. There is no time to even contemplate reciprocating, as Wei Ying doesn’t stay long, but the warmth of her leaves Lan Zhan shivering a little when she pulls away. “Goodnight!” Wei Ying disappears into the hall in a blink.
Normally, Lan Zhan can fall asleep in a few minutes’ time. Her body’s rhythms are so familiar that it comes as a surprise when she turns out the lights and shuts her door, but her mind is still awake, drowsily considering every move Wei Ying has made since Lan Zhan saw her ride past the window. Was her invitation to see a movie serious? Lan Zhan would go to an early showing, maybe on the weekend.
Heart unable to slow, Lan Zhan tries to meditate and clear her mind, but is interrupted by the quiet sound of someone turning the handle on her bedroom door.
She keeps her eyes shut and tries to focus. It’s probably Lan Qiren, checking to make sure Wei Ying really went to Lan Huan’s room. The door is closed again with a soft snick.
“Lan Zhan,” whispers Wei Ying. “Are you asleep?”
Briefly, Lan Zhan contemplates pretending in spite of her usual honesty, but Wei Ying might decide it would be funny to prank her if she did so. “Yes,” she whispers back.
There’s a brief pause before she feels someone tugging at her blanket. “Can I lay here with you? Just for a few minutes.”
Lan Zhan’s pulse has no chance of slowing at this point. When she doesn’t answer, Wei Ying tugs the blanket up and slides underneath, though she keeps herself to the other side. They aren’t even touching. Lan Zhan’s heart is so loud she can feel it in her ears, like a massive drum playing just above their heads. Surely Wei Ying must hear it by now.
“I’m pretty good at sneaking around,” Wei Ying murmurs, so quiet even Lan Zhan has to strain to hear. From the sound of Wei Ying’s voice, Lan Zhan can guess she’s lying on her back. “That’s what I was going to do tonight, before you tricked me. Jiejie probably left her window open, but I texted her, so she’ll know I’m safe.”
Lan Zhan doesn’t have to hide the curling fists behind her back this time. She presses her nails into the meat of her palm. How can Wei Ying be forced to sneak into her own home?
“Don’t worry, Lan Zhan. Lan Qiren already saw that I was sleeping in there, so you won’t get in trouble.” Something cold brushes Lan Zhan’s fist. She opens her hand quickly, realizing it’s Wei Ying’s fingers, and feels her ears get hot as Wei Ying slides her pinky over Lan Zhan’s beneath the blankets. “But, um. I was lonely. I know you don’t like me that much, but since I’m already here, can I stay with you?” Wei Ying’s whispered words sound like a dream. But if it were really a dream, then Wei Ying wouldn’t lie like that.
She should say no. It’s irresponsible to let Wei Ying stay, especially against Lan Qiren’s wishes about where she would sleep. But Lan Zhan wants Wei Ying to be able to rest. In the morning, she’ll wake up before Wei Ying. Lan Qiren will be preparing for the day, and probably won’t check in with her until five-thirty. That’s more than enough time to put Wei Ying to bed in Lan Huan’s room without being seen.
“Yes,” Lan Zhan whispers.
Wei Ying hooks her pinky more securely around Lan Zhan’s, who allows herself a brief moment to tug on Wei Ying’s in return. Just to let her know that she’s paying attention.
“Thanks,” Wei Ying whispers.
Lan Zhan shakes her head even though Wei Ying can’t see it. “There’s no need to thank me.” Wei Ying doesn’t let go of her pinky, and Lan Zhan doesn’t ask.
It’s way too early for Wei Ying to fall asleep.
She thought she might be able to if she could hear Lan Zhan sleeping, but her even breaths still aren’t much to focus on, and they aren’t really making Wei Ying drowsy. “Lan Zhan,” she hisses, “are you awake?”
In the brief moment of silence, Wei Ying wonders what she’d do if Lan Zhan really is asleep. Die?
“You have not stopped talking for more than two minutes,” Lan Zhan replies. “I am awake.” In spite of the words, her voice is a little slower than normal, deep and soft. Wei Ying imagines it as a fluffy storm cloud.
This part of a sleepover is always Wei Ying’s least favorite. That part where the darkness is all around you and no one can talk louder than a whisper but no one wants to sleep yet either. She’s heard Jiang Cheng tell Nie Huaisang all sorts of embarrassing stuff in this kind of environment. Usually, Wei Ying pretends she’s asleep.
Maybe the urge to blab at a sleepover is also contagious and Wei Ying’s reaction to it all is just delayed. That would explain the gay thing, too. Delayed response.
“It’s too early,” Wei Ying complains under her breath. “I can’t sleep now. I’m not tired.”
“If you are quiet,” Lan Zhan says, “you will get tired.”
“Bullshit.”
Wei Ying allows silence to fall between them for a minute. “Can you really do that? Just lay there in the dark awake until you get sleepy?”
“Mn.”
“I’d go crazy. Too much time with my thoughts. Your brain is all about being alone with yourself. Isn’t that stupid?”
“It is the best way to know yourself.” Lan Zhan says it with ease, but Wei Ying can’t help looking toward her in the dark, trying to make out some sign that she’s lying.
“And you like that?!”
Lan Zhan shushes her, which is probably for the best. “What I am does not scare or confuse me,” she says. Wei Ying lays her head down properly again and shuts her eyes, trying to take in Lan Zhan’s words. She’s talking so much tonight. Wei Ying didn’t know she thought of so many words in a day, let alone that she was capable of saying them—especially not to someone she dislikes as much as Wei Ying. “It helps me understand my place.”
“Place in what?”
A lengthy pause follows the question. “In everything.”
Lan Zhan finds that comforting?
“I don’t think I have a place,” Wei Ying admits. She hooks her pinky around Lan Zhan’s ring finger, inching her way over one at a time. At this rate, they’ll be holding hands by sunrise, but Wei Ying doesn’t think that’d be so bad. “In everything, I mean. I’m outside of it all. And that’s fine!” Lan Zhan shushes her again. Wei Ying drops back into a soft whisper. “I don’t need a place to fit. I can go anywhere and do anything if I want to.”
Lan Zhan goes quiet. Wei Ying waits for her to say something, but she’s breathing so calmly, and she hasn’t moved her hand from under Wei Ying’s. Is she asleep?
“And if you found one?”
Wei Ying sighs in relief. “Found what?”
“A place,” Lan Zhan says. “One where you fit, and could go anywhere, and do anything you wanted.”
“Oh.” Lan Zhan doesn’t need to shush her this time. Wei Ying can’t remember ever making a sound that felt so small. “If it was a place like that,” Wei Ying whispers, “that would be - okay. I guess.”
This time, Wei Ying doesn’t notice how long the quiet feels. She only snaps back into focus when Lan Zhan murmurs something too softly for her to hear.
“Huh?”
When Lan Zhan stays silent, Wei Ying pinches the side of her palm. “Say it again, Lan Zhan, you’re too quiet.”
“Wei Ying,” she says, her voice soft and clear. “I do not dislike you.”
Wei Ying’s heart leaps to her throat. “What. What does that mean?” She tamps down on the nervous urge to giggle.
“What I said,” Lan Zhan says, wrenching her hand out from under Wei Ying’s. The loss of warmth is so terrible that Wei Ying turns over, trying to make out Lan Zhan’s profile from the muddy shapes she can see in the darkness.
“Yes you do,” Wei Ying argues in a furious whisper. “You always want to—you’re always trying to discipline me the most, even when I barely did anything.”
Lan Zhan isn’t making any sense. “Discipline and structure,” she explains, her words sluggish but still so refined, “are parts of a whole. They lay the foundation for—” All of the sudden, Lan Zhan stops talking. Wei Ying stares at her, but without the motions of talking, Wei Ying has already forgotten where Lan Zhan’s mouth is in the indistinct miasma of shadows.
“For what?”
Lan Zhan doesn’t answer, but Wei Ying feels like she’ll die if she doesn’t. She reaches out and pokes at what she’s vaguely sure is Lan Zhan’s cheek, then reflexively snatches her hand back. Lan Zhan’s cheek is so warm. Wei Ying has never seen Lan Zhan blush before. She almost wants to turn on the lights, but that would probably alert Lan Qiren somehow.
An idea starts growing in the back of Wei Ying’s mind. I do not dislike you. “For what, Lan Zhan?”
Wei Ying is prepared to ask all night, but Lan Zhan gives in easier than she expected. “They make people feel safe,” Lan Zhan says, swallowing so loudly Wei Ying can hear it. “Loved.”
The swarm of birds in Wei Ying’s chest migrate to her stomach, flapping their wings furiously, desperate to escape. Lan Zhan’s parents died when she was small. Wei Ying thinks about what you might think of as safe, being raised by Lan Qiren. Wei Ying thinks about the way the word ‘loved’ sounds in Lan Zhan’s mouth.
She lifts the blanket and shuffles over until she can burrow her face into Lan Zhan’s shoulder, hooking her arm around Lan Zhan’s bicep. Lan Zhan doesn’t move, but she’s stiff as a board, just like when Wei Ying hugged her earlier. She thought it was because Lan Zhan didn’t like her, but she has new suspicions now; as Lan Zhan relaxes in Wei Ying’s hold, slowly but surely, they’re all but confirmed.
Lan Zhan is so, so cute.
“Lan Zhan,” she says. “I like you too.” It doesn’t feel real until the words are leaving her mouth, but she doesn’t feel bad after she’s said them. Wei Ying just feels… warm. Good. Tempted to throw her leg over Lan Zhan’s.
There’s movement from the other side of the bed. A moment later, she feels Lan Zhan’s hand on the back of her head, running her fingers carefully through Wei Ying’s hair. She smiles into Lan Zhan’s shoulder.
“This is exactly why Lan Qiren didn’t want you to shut the door,” she whispers.
Now that Wei Ying is so close, she can feel it when Lan Zhan shakes her head. “That’s not why.”
“Then why?” Wei Ying asks with a frown. “Lan Zhan?”
She keeps asking, but Lan Zhan won’t answer. At some point, the asking must have made her sleepy, because between one question and the next, Wei Ying drifts off, her dreams still filled with Lan Zhan and her low voice and her hands in Wei Ying’s hair.