Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Lotus Pier was as tranquil as his uncle had described. Situated next to one of the largest lotus lakes in the district, it was accessible only by a narrow one-lane road which wound through grassy hills dotted with trees. Lan Zhan arrived in his rental car at a little after ten in the morning and parked in the circular driveway in front of the main house. Behind it, from what he could see, was a courtyard with a well-kept garden and several other smaller structures, with the sparkling lake beyond them all. He got out and stretched his legs, then collected his suitcase from the trunk and rolled it up the stone path. Insects chirped in the grass to either side, and the hot sun blazed down on his back. He was glad he had opted for a linen shirt, but he still felt sweat prickling at his temples.

As he approached, the front door to the house opened, and out stepped Jiang Fengmian, his uncle’s former business partner, and Yu Ziyuan, his wife. Jiang Fengmian, always the more affable of the two, waved and smiled, while Yu Ziyuan gave him a polite nod. He bowed to both of them.

“Lan Zhan, it’s good to see you,” said Jiang Fengmian. “Such a shame your uncle couldn’t make it, but we’re very glad you’re finally here after all these years.” There had been a standing invitation to visit for as long as Lan Zhan could remember, but his schedule had never aligned to allow for it until now.

“Uncle was sorry to miss it, but his trip to Beijing couldn’t be helped.”

“That’s my old friend for you. He’s always telling other people to take vacations, but never takes one himself.” Jiang Fengmian was dressed more casually than Lan Zhan had ever seen him, in a vibrant patterned shirt and a pair of knee-length khaki shorts. Yu Ziyuan wore a green wrap dress, her hair up in a high bun.

“Very true,” Lan Zhan agreed. “I don’t think Uncle will ever retire.”

Jiang Fengmian gave him a pat on the shoulder and welcomed him inside. “Come in, come in. You’ve had a long trip. Did you run into any traffic from Wuhan?”

“Not much, fortunately.” His flight had left early from Suzhou, and he’d rented a car at the airport to drive the final stretch. Though Jiang Fengmian had offered to pick him up, he hadn’t wanted to impose.

Inside, the air was cool and smelled like fresh lavender. They walked through the entryway and into a brightly lit, large lounge area with a cream-colored sectional sofa and a variety of potted plants flanking the long, rectangular windows overlooking the lake. There was a tea service gently giving up steam, and as Lan Zhan sat, Yu Ziyuan poured him a cup of strong oolong. He accepted it gratefully.

“How many years has it been since we saw you last? At least five,” said Yu Ziyuan. Jiang Fengmian had retired several years before, and prior to that Lan Zhan had been so busy with work, he had only seen the Jiangs at special events and on the occasional holiday. “Qiren says you are doing well.”

“Yes. I am teaching music and history at a private school in Suzhou.”

Lan Zhan had followed his passion rather than in his uncle’s footsteps, as his brother had—willingly and gladly—done. He suspected some people in their circle privately judged him, but none was foolish enough to express their judgment out loud. With the substantial fortune left to him by his parents, he’d had the luxury of choice, and he did not take it for granted. He enjoyed teaching, even if his twelve and thirteen-year-old students were sometimes a handful. And in his spare time, he wrote his own music and enjoyed a peaceful, quiet life.

“And how is Lan Huan?”

“Brother is very well, thank you. He sends his regards.”

“Another one who’s always too busy!” said Jiang Fengmian, “Ah, well. We’ll make them jealous these next two weeks, Lan Zhan, won’t we.”

They caught up for a few minutes while Lan Zhan finished his tea, and then Jiang Fengmian stood. “You’ll want to get settled and change. The kids are down at the dock swimming. Let’s go say hello, and then I’ll show you the guest house. You can leave your bag—someone will bring it over.” The someone was no doubt a housekeeper or other staff, working quietly in the background.

“I know Yanli is so excited to see you.” Yu Ziyuan smiled. “I remember how she talked about you when you first met. She was so impressed by your playing.”

The Jiang children were younger than Lan Zhan by ten years and more, and the last time he had seen Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli, he had been in college, and neither of them had been more than a blip on his radar at a reunion dinner. Had he played his cello for them then? He hardly remembered. He knew vague, general things about them courtesy of his uncle, but the age difference had precluded much interest. “Yes, I’m looking forward to it.” He nodded politely to her, and then followed Jiang Fengmian out the back door.

The courtyard was open with a gazebo in the middle and a large, well-tended koi pond filled with orange, white and yellow fish. They walked past it down another stone path, which led toward the lake. Sunlight reflected brilliantly against the water, turning the surface into scattered diamonds, and Lan Zhan had to hold his hand to his eyes as they approached the long wooden dock, where several large rowing boats were tethered. It went out about twenty meters into the lake, and on the end of it sat two figures dangling their feet over the water. Lan Zhan squinted, and one of them turned at the sound of their footsteps echoing on the wood. It was the girl, Jiang Yanli, wearing a broad-brimmed hat, a bikini top, and a sarong around her waist. Lan Zhan recalled she had recently graduated from college and begun a graduate program, so he put her at about twenty-two or twenty-three. Her brother, broader in the shoulders and a few years younger, looked over his shoulder. He frowned lightly, and yes, Lan Zhan remembered his scowl.

“Kids!” said Jiang Fengmian. “Lan Zhan is here.”

They were hardly kids anymore—which of course made sense, since Lan Zhan had not seen them in over ten years. He nodded at both of them and they stood to greet him. But before anyone could speak, there was a splash, and someone else emerged from the water—a boy—pulling himself up onto the dock with both of his arms. He was grinning and saying something to the other two, but Lan Zhan couldn’t quite make it out; he was too distracted by flashes of bare, tanned shoulders, lean hips, and strong legs. The boy’s lips curved in a smile as he stood and shook the water from his ears. He looked to be around Jiang Cheng’s age, Lan Zhan guessed, not even twenty. He was beautiful, and Lan Zhan needed to stop staring, but instead his gaze drifted to the tattoo on his lower stomach, partially hidden by the waistband of his red swim trunks.

“Hi,” said the boy in a warm, smooth voice, turning his smile on Lan Zhan. “You must be the famous Lan Zhan.”

Jiang Fengmian cleared his throat. “Lan Zhan, you remember A-Li and A-Cheng. I don’t think you ever met Wei Ying, though?”

“I . . . no.” Lan Zhan had never been one for many words, but he found himself even more at a loss now.

Jiang Fengmian saved him. “Yes, now that I think of it, he came to live with us a little after the last time we were all together. A-Ying has just finished his first year at Shanghai Jiao Tong, and A-Cheng will be starting there in the fall.”

Lan Zhan vaguely remembered hearing about a foster child living with the Jiangs, but he hadn’t paid much attention to it.

“Hi,” said Jiang Cheng, rather glumly.

Jiang Yanli came forward and offered her hand. “Hello, Lan Zhan. It’s so nice to see you again.”

Lan Zhan took her hand, purposefully looking away from Wei Ying, who had cocked his hip and was blatantly staring at them. Jiang Yanli had a firm grip and a warm smile. He liked her instantly. “It is good to see you.”

“You are definitely not what I expected,” said Wei Ying, pulling his attention back from Jiang Yanli.

“What did you expect?”

“Lan Qiren’s nephew? I imagined someone stuffier. Suit and tie. I didn’t expect the jeans—you’ll want to put something more comfortable on if you’re going to be hanging out, though. It’s hot now but the afternoons get even hotter. You’ll be sweltering dressed like that.”

“Rude much?” said Jiang Cheng, giving him a shove.

“A-Ying,” said Jiang Fengmian, a gentle admonition. “Forgive A-Ying, Zhan-er, he certainly knows how to speak his mind.

“It’s nothing worse than what I hear from my students.” Lan Zhan gave Wei Ying a pointed look, but Wei Ying didn’t seem sorry at all. Impudent, certainly.

“What are you planning to study?” Lan Zhan asked Jiang Cheng, hoping to steer the conversation in a different direction. “I am an alum of Jiao Tong myself.”

“Computer science.”

“They have a very good program.”

“I’m studying mathematics.” Wei Ying stepped forward, crossing his arms over his chest. “And physics, a double major.”

“Ambitious.”

Jiang Yanli smiled warmly at Wei Ying. She was obviously fond of him. “We are so proud of A-Ying. He’s done so well this year.”

“And you have begun a graduate degree, I’ve heard?” Lan Zhan asked her.

She seemed pleased. “Yes, I’ve started an MBA in Beijing.”

“Like father, like daughter.” Jiang Fengmian’s eyes were bright as he looked at the three of them. “We are blessed to have three remarkable children.”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Dad, we’re not kids. We’re eighteen. We’re adults.”

“I’m almost nineteen,” Wei Ying pointed out.

“Isn’t that the way it always is, Zhan-er? Young ones thinking they are old, old ones wishing to be young.”

“Mn.” Lan Zhan was thirty-one. He never thought much about his age, but today, faced with these three—and particularly Wei Ying—he felt every year of it.

They talked for a few more minutes, Lan Zhan sharing a few details from his own life, and not missing the way Wei Ying’s eyes lit up when he mentioned he played the cello. Wei Ying was also a musician, it seemed—a talented flautist, in addition to his precociousness in math. Lan Zhan was not surprised. While he himself had found working with numbers frustrating and vastly preferred the humanities, many other musicians he knew were very good at maths. For Lan Zhan, music had always been more like a language.

The sibling dynamics became more clear as the conversation went on. Jiang Cheng did not like Jiang Fengmian’s tendency to focus on Wei Ying’s accomplishments, and Jiang Yanli clearly loved both boys equally and considered Wei Ying a second brother. Wei Ying lit up whenever Jiang Yanli’s attention was on him, and he had a teasing, slightly contentious relationship with Jiang Cheng, but one that was nonetheless grounded in affection. Lan Zhan saw all of this and tried to ignore how Wei Ying’s still wet hair dripped onto his chest, leaving little trails of water on his skin. The tops of his shoulders were slightly pink with sunburn, and so was the bridge of his nose. Of course, looking at Wei Ying’s nose made Lan Zhan consider his other features. His top teeth were slightly too big for his heart-shaped mouth, and his eyes were wide-set and dark with long lashes. He had a little mole under his bottom lip, and he had the tendency to scratch at his nose when the conversation took a direction he found boring. There was no doubt he was attractive, and Lan Zhan was ashamed of himself. It wasn’t appropriate to ogle the adopted son of his host, a boy almost half his age and only a handful of years older than his students—though like Jiang Cheng, Wei Ying insisted he was an adult already. Not old enough to responsibly apply sunscreen, Lan Zhan thought wryly.

The sun grew hotter the longer they stood on the dock, and Lan Zhan found himself wishing he had indeed taken Wei Ying’s advice and worn different pants. Sweat trickled uncomfortably down his back, and he knew it was probably visible through his shirt at this point. More than once, he caught Wei Ying looking at him, and it was clear his expression was one of interest. He smirked slightly, as though he had also caught Lan Zhan looking, and Lan Zhan felt his ears heat. Noticing his discomfort and thankfully attributing it to the weather, Jiang Fengmian finally suggested they go to the guest house so Lan Zhan could get settled.

“All right a-die,” said Jiang Yanli. “See you later, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan bid the three goodbye, feeling relieved to have a place to relax and change his clothes. He thought he felt Wei Ying’s eyes on his back as they retreated, though it was probably a sun-induced hallucination.

The guest house was a two-room building with a minibar, a king-sized bed, and a very nice bathroom with a whirlpool tub and separate shower. The linens were white and fresh, and seeing how comfortable it looked made Lan Zhan want to lie down, the long drive and heat having finally caught up with him. He showered first and pulled on a pair of yoga pants, then settled down for what he intended to be a cat nap. Sleep pulled him under quickly.

He woke some time later, dragged from an unpleasant dream by a knock on the door. He sat up, heart thundering as he took in his surroundings. The light had shifted—it was late in the day. Already after five o’clock. The knock came again.

Still bleary-eyed, Lan Zhan went to the door without thinking and pulled it open.

Wei Ying was standing there wearing a ripped band t-shirt and a pair of black cutoffs. His hair was half up in a ponytail, the shorter pieces falling down around his face. His eyes widened at the sight of Lan Zhan, who was still shirtless, but then his features quickly slid into an easy grin. “How was your nap, rich gege?”

Lan Zhan kept his expression neutral even as his heart skipped a beat at the impudent familiarity. “Wei Ying.”

“All Auntie Yu can talk about is the fact you’re loaded. You better watch out, Lan Zhan, is all I’m saying.” He bit his full bottom lip. “So are you going to come to dinner like that or do you own another shirt?”

“Dinner?” It was a little early.

“Well, cocktail hour. Auntie Yu likes to have a drink out in the garden before we eat.” There was something in his tone Lan Zhan couldn’t quite decipher.

“All right. I don’t drink, but I will meet you there once I’m dressed.”

“I’ll wait for you. I can’t go back empty handed or I’ll get in trouble,” he said lightly, and pushed his way inside.

Lan Zhan held back his sigh even as Wei Ying flounced over to the bed and flung himself onto it, kicking off his shoes. “Ugh, I love this mattress. You’re so lucky you get to sleep out here. Isn’t it comfortable?” He waved his feet back and forth behind him. There was a little hole in the toe of his left sock. “I still have the same bed I had when I was a kid.”

Lan Zhan grit his teeth, his irritation at having someone dressed in questionably clean street clothes in his bed at war with his awareness that Wei Ying was lying in the very place where Lan Zhan had slept. The bed was probably still warm from his body heat. He wondered if Wei Ying could feel it. It seemed like an inappropriate thought to be having about a teenager, and Lan Zhan censured himself for letting his mind stray.

Wei Ying chattered on about the guest house, and Lan Zhan did his best to ignore him, turning his back and selecting a pair of linen pants and a t-shirt from his suitcase. He went into the bathroom to change, and spared a few extra minutes to brush his teeth and wash his face again. His hair was mussed from sleeping on it wet, and he combed some water through with his fingers to make himself look presentable. He looked refreshed from his nap, his eyes brighter than they usually appeared. He could still hear Wei Ying talking in the other room through the cracked door.

“I love it here in the summer,” he was saying. “Jiang Cheng and I used to sleep out on the docks at night sometimes when it was too hot, back before we got air conditioning. The summers are even hotter and wetter now, though, and there are more bugs. Global warming, am I right?”

Lan Zhan murmured his agreement, coming back into the room to find Wei Ying lying on his back, his shirt riding up to show his tattoo, which, with the lower slung shorts, Lan Zhan could now see was a small black rabbit done with intricate detail. Heat flooded through him, and he again forced his eyes away to look for his shoes.

“So you’re a teacher?” Wei Ying asked, sitting up. “Uncle Jiang said you teach history.”

“And music, yes.”

“Do you like it?”

“Most of the time. There are some behavioral challenges.”

“Yeah, kids can be assholes, especially preteens. All those hormones running wild.” Wei Ying hopped off the bed and slid on his own shoes. Lan Zhan was willing to bet his life that Wei Ying had been trouble at his students’ age. He still was.

“Mn.”

“Hey, did you bring your cello with you by any chance?”

“It wouldn’t fit in the car with my other things.”

“Ah, too bad. We could have had a concert. Hey, Lan Zhan?”

Lan Zhan turned back to him, feeling slightly overwhelmed. “Yes?”

“You look nice tonight.” Wei Ying gave him a devastating smile and sauntered out of the door, swinging his hips as he went, and Lan Zhan clenched his hands at his sides, following him out.

They had cocktails in the garden—save for Lan Zhan, who had a seltzer with lime, and then went in for dinner at seven. The long, mid-century table was large enough for ten, and on top of it was a spread of various stir-fried dishes, most of them too spicy for Lan Zhan’s liking, though several had been prepared to his taste. Wei Ying seemed to avoid those, heaping his plate with the reddest dishes—the mapo tofu and spicy green beans appeared to be his favorite. He ate with gusto and enjoyment, murmuring at how good everything was with his mouth half full. Lan Zhan, who rarely spoke while eating and normally found it off-putting, found himself mesmerized by the way Wei Ying licked his lips, until he realized he was doing it very intentionally.

They were seated across the table from each other. To Lan Zhan’s right sat Jiang Yanli, and to his left Yu Ziyuan. Most of the conversation centered around the Jiang family, though there were plenty of questions about Lan Qiren and Lan Huan, including some that Lan Zhan found a bit impertinent regarding his older brother’s continued single status. Unfortunately, in spite of demurring on answering for Lan Huan, the questions then turned to him.

“And I know you must be ready to settle down yourself,” Yu Ziyuan remarked, sipping her white wine. “It is important for a man to have someone to make a home for him, especially these days. Young people are waiting far too long to get married, if you ask me.”

Lan Zhan swallowed his bite of food and felt his heart stutter. He normally avoided these sorts of conversations, but it was clear he was not going to be let off the hook easily. Plus, it was not lost on him that he had been strategically positioned next to Jiang Yanli for the dinner, and Yu Ziyuan had made many comments about her daughter’s cooking prowess—it seemed Jiang Yanli had prepared most of the dinner, in particular the dishes that appealed to Lan Zhan.

“Mn. It is important to find the right person.”

“Yes,” Yu Ziyuan agreed. “Though sometimes waiting to find someone can lead nowhere.” Wei Ying looked over at Lan Zhan, and then quickly away. There were a few beats of strained silence, and Lan Zhan took advantage of the break to excuse himself for the bathroom.

He did not have any plans to marry a woman. He had no plans to marry at all.

When he returned a few minutes later and sat down, he realized very quickly he had walked into a wasps’ nest.

”Just look at our history,” Wei Ying was saying, his eyes pleading and focused on Yu Ziyuan. “The Han emperors had male lovers, and people thought it was normal. Social conditioning makes you think it’s wrong.”

Lan Zhan’s stomach dropped to his feet, but it soon became clear that Wei Ying was talking about himself, not Lan Zhan. Of course. Lan Zhan took a sip of water, trying to subdue his intense discomfort.

“Wei Ying, this is not an appropriate conversation for the dinner table.” Yu Ziyuan spoke through her teeth. “We have a guest.”

“So what?” Wei Ying was angry, but trying to modulate the tone of his voice. “I don’t care if Lan Zhan knows I’m gay. I doubt he cares, either. Do you, Lan Zhan?”

Lan Zhan felt the heat rise, and he was grateful for his thick-skinned face. His ears, however, were likely red—though perhaps not noticeable in the dim light of the dining room. “I do not.”

“See? And you’re a history teacher, right? So isn’t it true what I said about the Han?”

“It is true, yes.”

“A-Ying,” said Jiang Fengmian. “Please, leave our guest out of this. Apologies, Zhan-er, for my family’s behavior. A-Ying has gotten a lot of new ideas at university.”

“I don’t see why I should have to be quiet about who I am just to make everyone more comfortable. There’s nothing wrong with it.” He folded his arms across his chest. Yu Ziyuan was glaring at him, and Lan Zhan’s guts twisted in sympathy.

“You are still young. You are confused, A-Ying. In time, you will grow out of this phase.”

“Mom,” said Jiang Yanli, a pleading tone in her voice.

“What? I can’t say what I think in this house anymore? This is my house, and you will show some respect.” Yu Ziyuan’s cheeks were flushed.

Lan Zhan caught Wei Ying’s gaze over the table, feeling a bit like the rabbit in his tattoo. He felt badly for Wei Ying, but it was not his place to interfere.

“There’s nothing wrong with being gay, Auntie,” Wei Ying said in a softer voice. “Lots of people are. “

“Wei Ying,” said Jiang Cheng, who until now had been largely silent. “I love you, but can you please shut the fuck up?”

Yu Ziyuan’s eyes were latched onto Wei Ying, her fury clear. “Leave the table.”

“Fine,” said Wei Ying, sliding his chair back with a screech across the tiled floor. Jiang Yanli made as if to go after him, but Yu Ziyuan stilled her with a look.

The rest of the dinner passed awkwardly. Yu Ziyuan attempted to save face and redirect Lan Zhan’s attention back toward her daughter, and Jiang Fengmian, obviously feeling embarrassed, tried to add humor where he could. Lan Zhan found Jiang Yanli’s company pleasant enough, but he certainly was not interested in her. Unlike Wei Ying, who seemed very comfortable with being out, Lan Zhan had never been. Not even his brother knew. Only his lovers, who were never long-term.

So, it was not without a certain amount of gratitude that Lan Zhan was pulled aside by Jiang Yanli at the end of the night.

“I think my mother . . .” Jiang Yanli said softly as soon as they were out of earshot from her parents. “She might have designs on you. For me. I know that’s probably not what you were expecting. But I had nothing to do with it, just so you know. She has it in her mind I should get married as soon as I’m finished with my degree.”

“You don’t want to?” They were walking out through the courtyard back toward the guest house. The moon was low in the sky and looked huge over the water, and a gentle warm breeze blew, a pleasant difference from the heat of the day.

“No. No. I really don’t want to get married anytime soon. And if I did . . . well. No offense at all, but there is someone I’m interested in at school.”

Lan Zhan wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but restrained himself. “None taken.”

“That’s a relief!” Jiang Yanli laughed, a pleasant, sweet sound. “I’m glad we had this talk.”

“As am I.”

“And thank you for speaking up for Wei Ying tonight. He . . . he can feel a bit ganged up on by my mom, I’m afraid.” She frowned in the darkness as they came to a stop at the front of the guest house. “He’s really special.”

Lan Zhan thought she was probably right. Still, he could only nod, say his goodnight, and go into the guest house. He had done what he could, but he could do no more. It wasn’t his place, and Wei Ying, as infuriating and special as he might be, was not an option.

In the morning, Lan Zhan woke at his usual time and went for a long run on the path around the lake, then spent a half hour in meditation. By then, Jiang Fengmian, Jiang Yanli, and Yu Ziyuan had woken, and they shared breakfast in the gazebo. All of the unpleasantness from the night before seemed to be forgotten by Yu Ziyuan at least. She was the consummate gracious hostess, making sure Lan Zhan had the best of the fresh fruit and that his cup of tea was always filled.

“You won’t see the boys before noon,” said Jiang Yanli, smiling fondly. “You know how it is.”

Lan Zhan didn’t, really. He had always been an early riser, even in college, although he had also had his share of late nights.

“You could take Lan Zhan down to the lake this morning, Yanli,” said her mother. “I’m sure he would like that.”

“Yes, you young people go on and have fun. I have some things to do around the house this morning,” said Jiang Fengmian.

“Thank you,” said Lan Zhan. “I—” He was just about to acquiesce when Wei Ying appeared from the right, dressed in his red swimming trunks with a towel slung over one bare shoulder. He wore a pair of sunglasses, and his ponytail bobbed as he hopped up the gazebo steps, barefoot.

“Morning everyone,” he said. “Oh, look, my favorite.”

Yu Ziyuan gave Wei Ying a look as he leaned over Lan Zhan to take the last of the steamed buns, stuffing half of it in his mouth.

“A-Ying, mom was suggesting we take Lan Zhan down to swim, and look, you’re all ready. Wei Ying is like a fish in the water, Lan Zhan.”

It was already looking like another hot day. Lan Zhan watched as Wei Ying finished his bun, licking a bit of the sauce from his fingers in a completely unselfconscious way, which was even more alluring than his little performance from the night before. Lan Zhan wondered what he was like at college. From what he’d heard from Jiang Yanli and Jiang Fengmian, he was an excellent student, but he also sensed from the things Wei Ying had said himself that learning came naturally to him, and he was not an avid studier, as Lan Zhan had been. He seemed like the type of person who would have many friends. Boyfriends? Probably those too. Lan Zhan had fucked a man for the first time during his first year of university—someone older, whom he had met at a bar. It hadn’t been very good, but better sex had come later.

Wei Ying turned to look at him, and Lan Zhan realized he had been lost in his own thoughts and missed the first part of his question. “...meet you there?”

“Mn?”

Wei Ying looked bemused. “I was saying, do you want us to wait for you to get changed or meet you down at the lake? We can go to the pier, or there’s a little beach we like to go to—well, beach is a stretch. There are some rocks we can sit on, but it’s a bit of a walk.”

“What would you prefer?”

“The beach, definitely. Jie, do you want to get your suit?”

Once it was all arranged, they left the gazebo, and Lan Zhan returned to the guest house to change. He chose his shorter, light blue swim trunks, telling himself it wasn’t because they made his legs and ass look good. The others were waiting for him when he emerged.

“I just texted Jiang Cheng, which will piss him off, but look, you can’t sleep the whole summer away.”

“Who is this stranger and what have you done with A-Ying?” Yanli laughed.

“Hey! I get up early for classes. Sometimes.” He laughed, poking her in the ribs, which made her squeal, and the two of them joked and jostled with each other as they struck out for the famed beach. About fifteen minutes later, as they emerged around a curve in the lake, Lan Zhan learned that the beach was very much as Wei Ying had described—a clearing of sorts in the underbrush. There was a bit of sand, but mostly the area was taken up with large rocks, most of them wide enough for a person to sit or even lie on, if they were so inclined. It was mostly shady, with some dappled sunlight streaming through the poplar trees, but not enough to keep the bugs away. Lan Zhan slapped a mosquito on his thigh, and Wei Ying turned around at the sound, looking at Lan Zhan’s leg, the little streak of blood left on his palm. “Oh, fuck, I should have brought the bug spray. Mosquitos hate me so I never worry about it. Should I go back?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll text Jiang Cheng to bring it when he gets his ass here.”

Lan Zhan, it turned out, was not fine, but he did not complain as he was eaten alive while they set their things down. He removed his shoes and his shirt and set it aside, aware of Wei Ying’s eyes on him as he did, and then without another word, he picked his way to the water’s edge and began to wade in. The mud at the bottom of the lake squelched between his toes, and the water was slightly murky, but it was cool and provided relief from the bugs.

After a few more steps, he dove and began to swim in long strokes, turning over on his back as he emerged into the sun. It was mid-morning. Dragonflies skimmed over the surface of the lake, and every so often one hummed close to his ear. He floated there, breathing deeply and looking at the cloudless blue sky, until he realized he was not alone. Wei Ying was next to him, treading water and smiling.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Lan Zhan lifted his head out of the water; it was far enough off from the shore that he could no longer touch the bottom, which was a mercy. He could see Wei Ying’s arms moving slowly and gracefully, but nothing below that, another mercy. “It is very peaceful here. I can’t remember the last time I swam in a lake.”

“You Lans seem more like pool people.”

“Is that an insult?”

“No. I can just imagine rich gege lounging by the pool in his baby blue swim trunks. Very chic.”

So Wei Ying had noticed. Lan Zhan tried not to be happy about it and mostly failed. Luckily, he was good at keeping his feelings to himself.

“I think I did, once or twice, when I was a child. Mostly we went to the ocean.” His mother had loved the sea, though she had never actually swum in it whenever they visited. She would spend hours walking along the sand, watching him and his brother in the waves.

“I’ve never swum in the ocean. I’ve always wanted to, though. Hopefully soon. Is it fun?”

“Very. You would like it.”

“You think so?” He was bobbing a little in the water, not out of breath at all. There were little droplets of water on his long eyelashes.

“I do.”

“For a virtual stranger, you sound pretty sure about what I’d like.” He cocked his head a little, and Lan Zhan suddenly felt very exposed. He ducked his head under the water, and when he emerged again, Wei Ying had disappeared. An irrational, fluttery panic rose in Lan Zhan’s chest, until moments later Wei Ying broke the surface a short distance away, making a pfft sound to get rid of the water in his nose, and then smiling at Lan Zhan. “I’ll race you to shore!”

Wei Ying won, of course, but barely, and they spent another hour or so alternating between swimming and sunning themselves on the rocks, now that the shade had moved. Jiang Yanli was reading a book and preferred to stay on the shore. Jiang Cheng arrived at some point with snacks and the bug spray, which Lan Zhan accepted gratefully. When the sun was very high in the sky, he made a point to offer his sunscreen to Wei Ying, who laughed him off and dove back into the water. He and Jiang Cheng wrestled, laughing and dunking each other’s heads under, and Jiang Yanli rolled her eyes at them. Lan Zhan was only a little jealous—stupidly. He was over thirty, and they were college students. Teenagers.

“They’ve always been this way,” she said to Lan Zhan. “Sometimes they don’t get along but mostly it’s this. Like brothers.” Lan Zhan thought of Lan Huan. They had never roughhoused together as children, though it was as likely due to their own personalities as to their uncle’s strictness.

Lan Zhan was curious about Wei Ying’s birth family, but he knew he could not ask. He wondered if Wei Ying had been orphaned at a young age, as he had, or if there was another story there. Wei Ying was such a vibrant person, and he cared deeply about his family. Lan Zhan hoped he had not suffered.

By the mid-afternoon, everyone was tired of swimming and there were grumbles of hunger from the boys especially. They made their way back toward Lotus Pier, with Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli in the front, and Wei Ying and Lan Zhan in the back. Wei Ying pointed out all of the different species of flowers and plants he knew, stopping so much that the others had disappeared from sight by the time they passed an old, gnarled tree with a thick branch overhanging the path.

“Oh! And this! This is my favorite tree. I fell off of it when I was a kid and broke my arm.”

Lan Zhan raised an eyebrow. “And it’s your favorite because?”

“Because it’s so fun to climb. I mean it wasn’t the tree’s fault. I was just . . . I was being stupid. Here, look.” Before Lan Zhan could ask what he was doing, Wei Ying had tossed his towel to the ground and begun scrambling up the tree, using the low branches to haul himself up until he was well off the ground. He sat on the branch above the path, feet dangling. “See? Do you want to come up?”

“No.”

Wei Ying pouted. “You’re no fun, rich gege. Will you catch me if I fall?”

“Wei Ying. Be serious.”

“I am serious—I’m deadly serious! Lan Zhan! This one is losing his balance—he . . . oh, woe! I think I’m feeling a little faint!”

Lan Zhan’s breath caught in his throat as Wei Ying smiled down at him, and then, without another warning, launched himself from the tree. Lan Zhan reacted automatically. He stepped forward and opened his arms, his heart lurching. The impact almost knocked them both down, but after a deep stumble, he righted himself, and found he was holding an armful of laughing Wei Ying. “You did it, Lan Zhan! I knew you would.” He looked utterly delighted, kicking his legs and holding Lan Zhan around the neck. Only then did Lan Zhan realize they were both shirtless, and Wei Ying’s skin was very warm. He smelled warm, too, like the lake, the sun.

“You could have hurt yourself.”

“But I didn’t. Thank you, Lan Zhan, for catching me.” He pressed a fleeting kiss against Lan Zhan’s cheek and then squirmed out of his arms, and Lan Zhan was still processing everything, his head in a jumble, when Jiang Cheng appeared around the corner, yelling at Wei Ying to hurry the fuck up.

The place where Wei Ying had kissed him was slightly damp from his lips, the only evidence it had really happened, and Lan Zhan continued on after them with his stoic expression firmly in place, not letting himself touch it in spite of the way his fingers burned.

That evening at dinner, Lan Zhan considered the nature of his problem, and found it was serious.

Unlike the previous evening, there was no mention of topics anyone might have considered unpleasant, though it was difficult to say if it was by spoken or unspoken agreement. The young people discussed the upcoming school year and the classes they were planning to take. Jiang Fengmian reminisced about his own college days, and Yu Ziyuan focused most of her attention on encouraging Lan Zhan and Jiang Yanli to interact, her ambitions impossible to misinterpret. Jiang Yanli gave Lan Zhan a commiserating glance when her mother was distracted by someone else, and across the table, Lan Zhan saw Wei Ying watching them with a strange expression on his face. He didn’t speak much, but every so often their eyes caught, and it looked like Wei Ying had something to say. Whatever it was, however, remained unspoken.

Lan Zhan turned his attention back to his food, though he was not very hungry. He tried not to think of the way Wei Ying had felt in his arms, or how he had placed his trust in Lan Zhan to catch him. He tried not to think of the sweet sound of his laughter. It was possible Lan Zhan had never met someone as full of life as Wei Ying.

They moved out to the smaller gazebo table after dinner to enjoy the last remnants of the sunset, and Lan Zhan found himself seated across from Wei Ying, this time much closer. As dessert was brought out, Lan Zhan made the mistake of looking at Wei Ying again and noticed he was also being watched. Dark, half-lidded eyes. A playful smirk on wine-stained lips. He had been drinking with dinner. Then, Lan Zhan felt the slide of a bare foot against his ankle.

He froze, going cold and then hot all over as he realized what was happening. Everyone was distracted by the assortment of red bean buns and egg tarts, and Lan Zhan’s mouth was dry. He looked at Wei Ying, and the foot rubbed higher, against Lan Zhan’s calf muscle, wrapping around the curve of it. In spite of himself, his body reacted, the blood rushing to his groin. Yu Ziyuan offered him another sweet, and Lan Zhan accepted it, hoping his reaction was not visible to the others seated around him. The foot moved higher. Wei Ying turned to his sister and said something, and she passed him an egg tart. He took a bite out of it, moving his foot up to Lan Zhan’s knee. Completely nonchalant.

Lan Zhan’s heart pounded in his chest, and he glared at Wei Ying. Wei Ying was laughing at something Jiang Cheng had said, but Lan Zhan was no longer following the turns of the conversation. He held his breath.

Then, the foot pressed between his legs, right over the bulge of his erection. Lan Zhan’s whole body burst into flames.

Wei Ying was playing. He was playing with Lan Zhan, and Lan Zhan was furious. He pushed Wei Ying’s foot off, then stood up from the table, making his excuses to the family. He was tired, he said. It had been a long day. As he left the gazebo, he heard his name being called softly, contritely, but he did not look at Wei Ying. He went straight to the guest house and locked the door behind him.

His heart was still thundering as he replayed the moment again and again. How had Wei Ying known exactly what to do to set him off? He was being goaded, but that didn’t mean Wei Ying wasn’t serious. But how could he be serious? He was eighteen. He didn’t know what he was asking for.

Lan Zhan went into the bathroom, hoping a hot shower would calm his nerves enough to sleep. Unfortunately, his erection had not flagged at all, and he knew he would have to take care of it to clear his head. He wrapped his hand around his shaft and started to jerk himself off, quickly at first, but as the warm water soothed his muscles and calmed his heartbeat, more slowly, languorously, pumping his hips into the channel of his fist.

He closed his eyes and thought of the little mole under Wei Ying’s lower lip, how he would like to run his tongue over it, bite the soft curve of his throat. He couldn’t help it—he had no control of his thoughts. They skipped like smooth stones on a pond, landing here on Wei Ying’s smile, there on his eyes, his long legs, his tattoo, his laughter. Lan Zhan drew it out even though he was panting, his cock so hard it ached. He would allow himself this, and no more. He had to allow himself at least this—a fantasy of Wei Ying beneath him, of how his skin would taste, warm, so warm.

With a muffled groan, Lan Zhan came, pulsing hotly all over his fist. He braced himself against the shower wall and shook with the aftershocks, not letting go until he had grown too sensitive, and then, finally, washing himself clean. He kept his mind carefully blank as he toweled off and got into bed to meditate. He would conquer this reckless fantasy, and he would be fine.

The next day, Wei Ying was not at Lotus Pier. No one gave any explanation, and Lan Zhan made it until lunchtime before he casually inquired.

“He went into Wuhan to see some friends,” Jiang Yanli said. “I don’t think he’ll be back until tomorrow.”

“Oh,” said Lan Zhan, stupidly disappointed. But perhaps it was for the best. They both needed a little time to clear their heads—Wei Ying obviously knew he had overstepped, and perhaps when he returned, things would settle down. Still, he couldn’t help wondering who Wei Ying had gone to see, whether he was seeing someone else, someone who would give him what Lan Zhan in good conscience could not.

Lan Zhan went fishing with Jiang Fengmian, and it was pleasant enough, but nothing compared with the day before. He played mahjong with Jiang Yanli and Yu Ziyuan, which made the latter extremely happy, and Lan Zhan worried he was giving her false hopes. Dinner was uneventful, and he retired early.

Wei Ying did not get home until late the following afternoon. Lan Zhan and Jiang Yanli were in the kitchen folding dumplings when he did—an activity Yu Ziyuan had proposed.

“Ah, isn’t this cute,” Wei Ying said, coming into the kitchen to say hello. He gave Jiang Yanli a kiss on the cheek and nodded at Lan Zhan, a little warily.

Lan Zhan’s heart was in his throat, his stomach twisting in knots at the sight of him. He looked good, if a little tired. He smelled a bit of alcohol, as though he had been out late the previous night with his friends. Lan Zhan tried to focus on what his hands were doing, but he wound up tearing the dumpling wrapper and having to triage it. Wei Ying came over to help, standing with him shoulder to shoulder at the wooden countertop.

“You’re putting a little too much filling in,” he said softly. “Here.” He took a wrapper and placed a dollop of the vegetable mixture into the center, and then deftly crimped with his fingers. “See?”

“Very good A-Ying!” Jiang Yanli pinched his cheek, and he batted her off.

“Are you impressed?” Wei Ying asked Lan Zhan, a little ruefully, and it was as though he was asking to be forgiven. Lan Zhan hated it.

“I am,” he said.

“I learned from the best!” Wei Ying grinned at his sister. They spent another fifteen minutes or so all working together, and Wei Ying seemed to grow more at ease. From time to time, their arms or elbows brushed against each other, and Lan Zhan cursed himself for the little thrill it gave him. The butterflies in his stomach simply would not settle. He wondered if his own tension was visible to Wei Ying, or if he was hiding it well.

All too soon, they were finished, and Wei Ying excused himself to shower. He did not show up for dinner, but afterwards Lan Zhan saw him out walking down by the water as the last streaks of red and orange faded from the sky. Wei Ying turned as though he felt Lan Zhan’s eyes on him, and he gave a little wave, then turned back to the lake.

So that was it, then. Whatever had been sparking between them was done.

On the morning of his fifth day at Lotus Pier, Lan Zhan awoke to a quiet knocking, and he pulled on his robe before answering the door.

He was surprised, and more glad than he cared to admit, to see Wei Ying. His ridiculous heart lurched in his chest.

“Hi,” Wei Ying said, almost shyly. “Did I wake you up?” He was dressed in another old band shirt and his cutoffs again, barefoot as always.

“No,” Lan Zhan lied. “I was only reading.”

“Oh good. I knew you were an early riser.”

They looked at each other, and Wei Ying bit his bottom lip. “Look. I wanted to say I’m sorry. For the other night.”

Lan Zhan was surprised. He had not expected the incident to be directly addressed. Perhaps Wei Ying was more mature than Lan Zhan had given him credit for being. “There is no need.”

“Ah, okay, if you say so. But I made it weird. I liked hanging out with you. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

The part of Lan Zhan that wasn’t very wise wanted to tell him he hadn’t; he had loved it. He wanted Wei Ying to do it again, and more. But he tamped it down. Nothing regarding their circumstances had changed, even if his feelings had. It was not, and would never be, a good idea to become intimate with Wei Ying.

“I appreciate that, Wei Ying. Please, don’t worry about it anymore. I was also . . . enjoying spending time with you.” He could, at the very least, allow Wei Ying that much.

Wei Ying’s eyes lit up, and he smiled softly. It took so little to make him happy, Lan Zhan was almost dizzy with how sweet he looked.

“Ah, ah ha. Good. Thanks for being cool about it.” He hesitated. “Would you by any chance want to come out on the lake with me? To see the lotus flowers? There’s a place I like to go, but you have to row to get there. It’s really nice in the morning.”

“Of course. I would like that very much. Let me change.”

“Cool,” said Wei Ying again, and he stepped back to allow Lan Zhan to shut the door between them.

The sky was peach, and small waves rippled at the beams of the dock as they went out to one of the canoes and climbed in. They were both accomplished rowers, and soon they fell into a steady rhythm, quickly moving out onto the vast expanse of the lake. The only sounds were quiet—the water lapping against the boat, the dipping of the oars, the occasional insect buzzing by. Wei Ying hummed to himself, a song Lan Zhan didn’t know. For the first time in days, Lan Zhan felt his heart settle into something resembling peace.

About half an hour later, they neared the opposite end of the lake and found themselves surrounded by a breathtaking expanse of pink—the blooming lotus flowers, like little flames in the morning light. Lan Zhan had worked up a bit of a sweat, as had Wei Ying, and Wei Ying turned around in the front of the boat, drawing in his paddle. Lan Zhan did the same. Neither of them spoke, but for once the silence wasn’t tense or awkward.

“Are you hungry?” Wei Ying asked after a while. “I brought snacks.”

Lan Zhan, who hadn’t even considered the possibility of breakfast when Wei Ying showed up at his door, realized he was.

Wei Ying had brought a backpack along with him, and he unzipped it to reveal a thermos filled with hot tea and a canister of warmed dumplings from the night before. He offered some to Lan Zhan, and they ate as the sun rose higher in the sky. It was a bit cooler than the previous several days, and between mouthfuls Wei Ying talked about music, asking Lan Zhan all sorts of questions about his own practice. Before long, they had fallen into an easy conversation, though Lan Zhan listened more than he spoke, as always. Wei Ying was obviously passionate about his flute, which he even had a name for.

“I call it Chenqing. Don’t you have a name for your cello?”

Lan Zhan, who had never named anything inanimate, shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

“So boring, rich gege!”

Lan Zhan felt his mouth twist wryly before he could stop it. “If I’m so boring, why did you invite me along this morning?”

“To have something pretty to look at.” Wei Ying ducked his head and clapped his hand over his mouth. “Sorry, sorry! I’m minding my boundaries.”

Lan Zhan felt his ears grow warm, even though he knew it was dangerous territory. He sternly reminded himself not to give too much credence to Wei Ying’s remarks. He was young, a natural flirt, and Lan Zhan was almost certainly not the sole beneficiary of his attention. He was here at Lotus Pier, and no one else was. That was all.

“I’ve always had a hard time keeping my thoughts inside,” said Wei Ying. “I can’t help it. You’re the exact opposite, aren’t you?”

Lan Zhan nodded. “Mn. I would say you are mostly correct.”

“Is that why . . . never mind. See, there I go again!”

“What were you going to ask?”

“Do you really want to know?”

Lan Zhan was not sure, but he still said, “Yes.”

“Okay. Well you can’t get mad, but feel free not to answer me. I was going to ask if that was why you’re not out. Or have I read you totally wrong?”

Lan Zhan was not surprised by the question, but he considered his answer carefully, probably for too long. Wei Ying fidgeted and scratched at his nose, his cheeks reddening, and not from the sun.

“Ah, fuck. I feel stupid.” Wei Ying began to fiddle with his oar, obviously uncomfortable. “If you’re really upset with me, I can swim over to the path and walk back. You’re probably sorry you agreed to come with me now.”

Tenderness swelled in Lan Zhan’s chest. He always encouraged his students to ask questions, and he didn’t want Wei Ying to think he’d made a mistake in asking his. “I’m not upset, I’m only thinking of my answer. It is one of the reasons, I suppose. I have never been out to my family. I have friends who know, but in general I keep my private life to myself.”

“Would your family be upset?”

Lan Zhan thought his brother would likely be supportive, but as for his uncle, he truly did not know. He shrugged. “When I was young, I worried about telling my uncle. But now it’s been so long. I think I would tell him if I met someone important, but otherwise, I see no need.”

Wei Ying nodded as though he’d made sense. “Can I ask when you knew you were queer?”

Lan Zhan looked down at his hands. There was such an earnestness in Wei Ying’s voice. It was a little hard to reply. “Since I was young, probably eight or nine. I always knew I was different. What about you?”

Wei Ying bit his lower lip. “Ah, it was this year at school when I finally figured it out. That’s why Auntie Yu doesn’t believe me, I think.”

“She thinks it’s a phase.”

“Yeah. Well, you heard what she thinks.” Wei Ying sighed and gave Lan Zhan a small smile. “The others have been great, mainly. Uncle Jiang has been nice about it. And I have good friends. It doesn’t bother me most of the time.”

Whether that was entirely true or not, Lan Zhan couldn’t say. He thought Wei Ying might be the kind of person to let his real hurts stay hidden, whatever he might say about emotional transparency.

“Anyway, sorry to be so nosy.” He let out a little, careless laugh, and Lan Zhan’s gut clenched. “And I promise I won’t say anything to the others. I . . . guess this doesn’t change anything? Um . . . between us?”

Lan Zhan sighed. He felt the need to explain, though he wasn’t sure it would make any difference, and might even, possibly, be counterproductive. “Wei Ying. You are . . . very desirable,” he began, cringing inside at how he sounded.

“But?”

“You are eighteen.”

“I’ll be nineteen in October. That’s only a few months away. Does age really matter?”

“You’re also for all intents and purposes, the son of my uncle’s oldest friend.”

“We wouldn’t have to tell anyone.”

There was an unmistakable glimmer of hope in Wei Ying’s eyes. The worst part was, Lan Zhan felt the tug of it, too. But the necessary secrecy was precisely the reason it was a bad idea in the first place.

“Wei Ying, I can’t be anything to you but a friend. But I am happy to be so, if you would like.”

The hope was still there, but somewhat dimmed. Wei Ying cocked his head, considering. “Fine. But don’t wear those sexy swim shorts again. I don’t think my heart could take it. Or my—”

Lan Zhan splashed him.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying sputtered, his face flecked with water. “I can’t believe you did that!”

Lan Zhan did it again.

“Oh, it’s on!” Wei Ying said, reaching over the side of the boat for his own handful of water, rocking it dangerously as his weight shifted.

They somehow managed to get each other completely soaked without capsizing.

It was a good day.

After their talk, Lan Zhan was true to the letter, if not the spirit, of his friendship-only stipulation to Wei Ying. Over the next several days, he spent his mornings swimming with the Yunmeng trio (the way they’d affectionately referred to themselves since childhood, he’d learned), and in the afternoon he fished with Jiang Fengmian or read one of the books he’d brought along, usually with Wei Ying not far away, lounging in the sun like a cat. Wei Ying still flirted with him, though perhaps not as obviously as before, but he seemed to have also accepted that nothing would happen between them.

Lan Zhan knew he should be glad. He wanted to be glad. But he had also learned that Wei Ying liked cats but not dogs, could fall asleep anywhere, and only purchased his clothes second-hand. He was lactose intolerant but still loved mochi ice cream, and when he laughed hard enough, he cried. While Lan Zhan had always been an observant person, his interest was hyper-fixated in a way it had never been before. He collected all the small details and stashed them away, like an animal hoarding food before a long, lonely winter. From off-handed remarks others had said, he learned Wei Ying was indeed an orphan, and his father had been good friends with Jiang Fengmian, though they were not actually related. He knew he should not care—he should not be gathering up these bits of Wei Ying. But he couldn’t help it, and after all, he was only hurting himself.

One evening, they watched a horror movie on the couch together—Lan Zhan had let himself be convinced, not especially reluctantly—and he sat on one side of the couch, with Wei Ying in the center and Jiang Yanli on Wei Ying’s other side. Jiang Cheng was playing games on his phone and not really paying attention, but he looked up when Wei Ying screeched and hid his eyes behind spread fingers.

“Wei Ying, you scream like a girl.”

“Thank you. I try.”

“I thought you liked scary movies,” Lan Zhan said during a particularly tense moment that had Wei Ying whimpering and saying “no no no” to the main character, who was about to get herself killed. One of his hands was digging into the flesh of Lan Zhan’s thigh under the blanket covering both of their laps, and Lan Zhan wasn’t even sure Wei Ying was aware he was doing it. He knew he should move further away. He did not.

Wei Ying grinned over at him. “I do! Isn’t it fun to be scared? Aren’t you having fun?”

Lan Zhan had to admit he was, although the movie had nothing to do with it. He was having a little more fun than was acceptable, and after they said goodnight and parted, he returned to the guest house and lay down on the bed with his pulse hammering, his skin feeling too tight for his body. He pulled down his yoga pants and wrapped a hand around his cock, doing what he could to relieve some of the pressure. It didn’t take him long to come, he had been so on edge all evening, and it was a mess. He was a mess, he thought, looking down at his dripping fingers. He hoped Wei Ying had not noticed. He would be better the following day. He would show more restraint.

Soon, an entire week had passed. Before Lan Zhan had arrived, he’d worried the time would drag. Now it seemed to be slipping away too quickly.

He arrived at dinner expecting to see Wei Ying in his chair across the table, but it stayed vacant. Perhaps he was ill? Or had gone to visit his friends in the city again? When he had still not appeared halfway through the meal, he asked Jiang Yanli quietly. She shook her head and shrugged, obviously just as confused. Yu Ziyuan had a sour look on her face, but said nothing. Jiang Cheng muttered something unintelligible into his soup.

Lan Zhan went back to the guest house after dessert feeling concerned. He didn’t have Wei Ying’s cell number, so he wasn’t sure how to check in. He knew he sometimes liked to walk at night down by the water, however, and so instead of going into his room, Lan Zhan went down to the lake.

Sure enough, there was a figure sitting at the end of the dock, feet dangling into the water. The sunset was obscured by thick clouds that had begun to roll in—there was rain in the overnight forecast. As Lan Zhan walked down the wooden decking, he wondered if he was doing the right thing. Perhaps Wei Ying wanted to be alone. Wei Ying did not turn around at the sound of his footfalls, but he looked up as Lan Zhan arrived next to him. He didn’t seem displeased. Maybe a little sad.

“Hello,” said Lan Zhan. “Is it okay if I sit here?”

“Sure.”

He sat, dangling his feet over the ledge. The wind had begun to pick up, and it sent a little chill through him. He looked at Wei Ying and wondered what had happened.

“You weren’t at dinner. Is everything all right?”

Wei Ying flashed him a little smile, but it didn’t meet his eyes. “Do you want the polite lie, or the ugly truth?”

“Your aunt?” Lan Zhan guessed.

Wei Ying nodded. “She told me not to come to dinner tonight. She said I was interfering with you and jiejie.” He laughed bitterly. “I guess I’m too much of a distraction.”

“Mn. Well. There is no way you could interfere, because there is no me and Jiang Yanli.”

Wei Ying looked at him with wide eyes. “I mean, I didn’t . . . think there was really. But.” He winced a little.

“I know there are some men who marry women for appearances, but I am not one of them. And that would be a very cruel thing to do to your sister.”

“She deserves someone who will love her.”

“Of course,” Lan Zhan agreed.

They sat quietly for a little while, looking out over the inky black lake. It was almost entirely dark, no moon or stars to light the water.

“I’m sorry Yu-furen said that to you. You didn’t deserve it.”

“She’s never liked me very much. Being gay is the least of it, honestly. I think she has a more convenient excuse now, more than anything.”

“Why?” Lan Zhan wrapped his fingers around the edge of the dock, holding tightly.

“Hell if I know, Lan Zhan. I don’t think she ever wanted to take me in the first place. But like . . . I’m not some trauma case. You don’t have to come out here feeling bad for me. I’m pretty happy as a rule. It’s being home, being here, it sucks sometimes. But once I’m back at school, it will be fine. You’ve been . . . really nice. But I’m not looking for someone to take care of me or pity me, okay? I’m fine. Honestly.”

Lan Zhan felt the words rush over him, confusing him and his own intentions. He had been concerned, but he was not here out of pity. Still, Wei Ying was not entirely wrong. There was no doubt in Lan Zhan’s mind he did want to take care of him, and would happily do so if the circumstances were different. “I’m sorry. I will leave you alone.”

“No. Don’t go.” Wei Ying covered one of Lan Zhan’s hands with his own. Lan Zhan looked at it, feeling the warmth seep into his skin. Then, he looked at Wei Ying’s face, which was an obvious mistake. His eyes were dark and unfathomable, lips parted softly. His hair was down, grazing the tops of his shoulders. Their faces were very close.

He was not sure, later, which of them moved first, only that in the next moment, his lips were pressed against Wei Ying’s. It was soft at first, simply a bare brush, and then Wei Ying scooted closer and put his hands on Lan Zhan’s shoulders, and Lan Zhan was lost. He melted into the kiss, opening his mouth and caressing Wei Ying’s tongue with his own. Wei Ying let out a little groan of relief, and Lan Zhan couldn’t help moaning in return. He had his hands in Wei Ying’s hair, on his shoulders, around him. Wei Ying touched his face, ran his hands up and down Lan Zhan’s chest, squeezing and pulling him tighter.

They kissed until they were breathless, until Wei Ying was almost in his lap, their bodies straining together. It was devastating. Lan Zhan couldn’t break away. He was drugged by the kisses, addicted to the taste of Wei Ying’s mouth, the slide of his velvet tongue. The first crack broke them apart, both panting. Wei Ying’s lips were swollen and wet, and Lan Zhan wanted to rub his thumb over them. So he did.

He smiled his devilish smile. “We should go somewhere more private. I think Auntie Yu might have an actual heart attack if she saw us down here.”

The words were enough to shock Lan Zhan out of his reverie. He was not supposed to be allowing this. He had forgotten in the heat of the moment, but he couldn’t . . . there were reasons. And they were in public. Anyone could have seen—and might have.

“Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying’s eyebrows drew together. “Are you still with me?”

Lan Zhan swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “I’m sorry, Wei Ying. I can’t.”

“Fuck.”

Wei Ying’s hands were still on Lan Zhan’s shoulders, clutching at him. With great difficulty, Lan Zhan gently removed them and stood up. Wei Ying sat with his now-empty hands in his lap, looking down at them. “Leave, then,” he said in a dull voice.

There was nothing else to say, and so he walked away, feeling as though he had been crushed, and knowing Wei Ying likely felt worse. It was his fault, and his alone.

The first drops of rain had begun to fall by the time Lan Zhan made it back to the guest house, and rumbles of thunder were coming faster after each strike of lightning.

Lan Zhan’s stomach was leaden as he went through his nightly ritual of readying himself for bed. He worried that Wei Ying had stayed out in the storm recklessly, but he could not go back to check. If he went back, he would bring Wei Ying here. He looked at himself in the mirror while he regretfully brushed the taste of Wei Ying out of his mouth. His eyes, which for the past few days had almost sparkled when he caught a glimpse of himself, looked dead. He spit into the sink and wiped his still-swollen lips with his towel, then turned out the light.

Sleep did not come easily. He rolled from his back to his stomach, then did the same thing again. He should leave in the morning. They would ask questions, but he couldn't stay here any longer. It would be torture.

Coward, his brain whispered.

Finally, he slept.

He was awoken by a sound sometime later. It was still dark, the clock on the side table reading 12:30 a.m. The thunderstorm had faded into a steady, thrumming rain that lashed against the windows. The sound came again—someone knocking.

Lan Zhan flicked on the bedside light and grabbed his robe, hastily tying it around his naked waist as he went to the door. He knew who he would find when he opened it.

“Wei Ying.”

He was soaking wet, his hair dripping. He was barefoot and bare-chested, wearing his sleeping pants, which were also wet. The chill of the rain had pebbled his skin into gooseflesh, and his dark nipples stood out against his paler skin. Lan Zhan wanted to eat him alive.

“If you really want me to go, I’ll go,” Wei Ying said. His eyes were wide, filled with the fear of rejection. It tugged at something deep in Lan Zhan, and he knew he would not turn Wei Ying away.

“Don’t go.” Lan Zhan reached for him. “I want you here.”

The door slammed shut behind them. Wei Ying was in his arms in an instant, and they grasped at each other, wrestling toward the bed. Lan Zhan didn’t care if Wei Ying was wet. They fell together, limbs tangling. Wei Ying’s mouth was on his throat, on his shoulder, sucking hot, wet kisses there and pulling off his robe even as he struggled to remove his own joggers, kicking them free of his legs. He wasn’t wearing underwear, and Lan Zhan palmed his blood-hot cock with one hand, rolling so Wei Ying was underneath him.

“Yes, oh, fuck.” Wei Ying clung to him like he never planned to let go. “I need you.”

“I want you, Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan stroked his cock and leaned his full weight down, bringing them both together so Wei Ying could feel how much.

They kissed skin to skin, grinding into each other as their mouths clashed roughly. Wei Ying was as responsive as Lan Zhan knew he would be. He made little sounds as he lifted his hips, as desperate for the contact as Lan Zhan, and Lan Zhan gave his beautiful mouth all of the attention it deserved, sucking on Wei Ying’s bottom lip and pushing his hands up over his head, kissing down his neck, biting his shoulder. He knew he could not leave bruises, but he wanted to—badly. He wanted to see what Wei Ying’s perfect collarbones would look like peppered with his marks. He settled for licking a hot stripe across first one, then the other, collecting rain water and sweat with his tongue while Wei Ying shook apart beneath him. He was so beautiful. Precious. Wei Ying arched into his touch, his lips parting in a sigh.

Wanting to taste all of him, Lan Zhan pushed himself off and down between Wei Ying’s legs. His cock was so hard, it was nearly standing up. The joys of youth. “Can I suck you?”

“Are you joking?”

Lan Zhan spread Wei Ying’s thighs further to give himself access to everything. He wanted to take his time. Wei Ying looked down at him, his eyes widening as he watched Lan Zhan take the head of his cock into his mouth. The smell of his sweet, musky arousal filled Lan Zhan’s senses. He tasted, swirling his tongue around the wet, leaking slit. Wei Ying was barely blinking. He was trembling a little under Lan Zhan’s hands.

“Oh, fuck,” Wei Ying said.

Tenderness swelled in Lan Zhan’s chest. He kissed the tip of Wei Ying’s cock and slid his mouth down, holding him steady at the base. His throat opened up around it, and he swallowed, sucking deep and hard, then drawing off with an obscene pop. He ran his tongue down the shaft and nuzzled at the tight swell of Wei Ying’s balls, giving them attention, too. Wei Ying’s hands scrabbled at the sheets. He was breathing hard, his chest pumping, and it was clear he was holding on by a thread. Lan Zhan brought his mouth back where it was needed, and seconds later, Wei Ying was coming, filling his throat. Lan Zhan swallowed it all, his own arousal burning hotter and more insistent than ever.

Wei Ying lay back on the bed and flung his arm over his face, still trembling with the aftershocks. “Oh shit, I’m sorry. I couldn’t hold off.”

“I wanted you to come. It is better to take the edge off.”

“But what about you?”

Lan Zhan moved over him again. His erection slid over Wei Ying’s sensitive, softened cock, making him hiss. Tentatively, a curious expression on his face, Wei Ying reached down and touched him. Lan Zhan thrust gently, letting Wei Ying explore his length.

“Oh wow. Your cock is amazing. I want you to fuck me. Can we do that?”

Lan Zhan looked at him, helplessly fond. He nuzzled his nose against Wei Ying’s cheek. “If you like.”

“I’m pretty sure I will.”

Something about the response triggered the question niggling in the back of Lan Zhan’s mind. “Pretty sure?”

“Sorry. I guess I probably should tell you, ah, my experience is limited?” Wei Ying gave him a sheepish smile.

“Define limited.”

“I mean I’ve kissed people. And, ah, I got a hand job from one of my friends at school, but that’s the extent of it. Don’t freak out, okay? It’s not like I’ve been saving myself or anything. Virginity is a stupid, patriarchal construct.”

The ensuing conflict of emotions was something Lan Zhan had never previously experienced. There was agreement, a bit of shame for his own lack of self-control, concern, and overriding those feelings, tenderness and . . . happiness, that he could be the one to give this to Wei Ying, if he wanted. Still, he was wary. Lan Zhan had never had very deep feelings for any of the men he slept with. Fondness, yes, but never more. Never true intimacy. He knew his own experience would not necessarily be Wei Ying’s experience. He did not want to do this and then leave if it meant Wei Ying would be hurt. His own emotions, he could deal with.

“I’m leaving in a week,” he said slowly, letting the concept sink in. “This cannot go further than that. Are you sure?”

“It’s just sex, okay? I want you. I really do. I want this with you.” Wei Ying kissed him again, opening his mouth to let Lan Zhan’s tongue inside. Lan Zhan kissed him back, his whole body screaming for the connection. He knew he would not refuse. Could not, even if he wanted to.

They kissed and touched each other until Wei Ying was hard again, which did not take long. Lan Zhan had not brought condoms or lube, but of course, Wei Ying had come prepared. He ferreted through the pocket of his discarded joggers and drew out two packets.

Lan Zhan could only admire him for his audacity.

“I hope it fits,” Wei Ying giggled lightly, throwing the foil toward Lan Zhan. “I should have got magnums.”

Lan Zhan hauled him back onto the bed and kissed him until he was breathless, then flipped him over and lifted his hips.

“Lan Zhan, what are you—oh!”

Lan Zhan spread Wei Ying’s ass and found the tight pucker with his finger, then his tongue. He licked around it, teasing as Wei Ying shamelessly pushed back against him. He loved it, loved the taste of Wei Ying’s most private place, and he pressed his tongue inside, urging him wider with both hands. Wei Ying was making tiny helpless noises, jumbled utterances into the pillow as Lan Zhan ate his ass. Lan Zhan’s own cock was throbbing, leaking onto the sheets beneath him. He licked and nipped Wei Ying’s rim and speared him with his tongue, almost mindless with his own lust. He reached between Wei Ying’s legs and found him dripping and hard too, and then he groped for the discarded packets.

Somehow, he managed to get himself slicked and ready with Wei Ying writhing beneath him. “Turn over,” he said, and Wei Ying rushed to comply, propping his hips up on the pillow Lan Zhan offered him. His face was flushed and beautiful, his still-damp hair fanning out in messy strands. Lan Zhan kissed him again as he lined himself up, teasing Wei Ying for a moment with the tip. The first breach was tight, as Wei Ying clamped down around him. Lan Zhan held his hips steady when all he wanted to do was drive forward, to claim. The pressure around the first inch of his cock was almost enough to make him come. Wei Ying was looking up at him with dark eyes, biting his lower lip.

“Are you okay?” Lan Zhan managed.

“Yeah. More.”

Lan Zhan pushed all of the way inside. They both gasped at the connection, and there was a flash of discomfort on Wei Ying’s face, but pain was part of it. Lan Zhan knew it would fade quickly. He kissed Wei Ying, allowing him to adjust to the sensation of being filled. His erection had started to flag, so Lan Zhan touched him, stroking him back to hardness until he felt slick precome on his fingers.

“Now?”

“Yes. You can move, I think.”

Lan Zhan’s arms were strong and steady as he started to work his hips. Wei Ying’s long legs wrapped around him, holding him close, and he moaned in surprise when Lan Zhan hit the right spot inside of him. Lan Zhan gazed down at his face, exquisite pleasure licking at his spine as he fucked deeper, and he knew he would not leave this trip with his heart intact. It had already started to splinter before this, but now that he knew what Wei Ying looked like when he was inside of him, he wondered how he’d be able to walk away when the time came to part. He would never forget. He was truly a fool.

Their sounds filled the quiet room, since the rain had stopped. The bed shook as Lan Zhan started to go harder, Wei Ying urging him on with his words and his breathless kisses. They were sweaty as they fucked, and Lan Zhan dug his fingers into Wei Ying’s hips, lifting them for a better angle. It took all of his willpower to hold back from coming, he was so close, but he wanted Wei Ying to come first, wanted to feel him, and so he told him, whispering things into his ear he had never said out loud to another person before. Wei Ying loved it. He threw his head back and let Lan Zhan suck on his neck, and Lan Zhan bit down and held him as he drove inside again and again.

“Touch yourself,” he said.

Wei Ying wrapped his long-fingered hand around his dick and started to pump it in time to Lan Zhan’s thrusts. He was very loud, which made Lan Zhan glad they were in a separate building from the rest of the household. He loved all of the sounds, wanted to hear every one of Wei Ying’s noises. He captured some of them with his mouth, saving them with all of the other little details he’d collected.

“Fuck. I’m gonna—” Wei Ying said, and he came, spurting all over his hand and stomach. The relief and joy of it was almost too much as Lan Zhan followed behind, coming deep inside him with his own deep groan. They lay together, stomach to stomach, covered in sweat, rain, and Wei Ying’s come.

Wei Ying grinned up at him. “Well, I liked it. So now we know.”

Lan Zhan kissed him again. His lips were oversensitive, raw with kissing, but he was loath to pull away until it became necessary. He quickly disposed of the condom and returned to the bed, and Wei Ying burrowed against his side, away from the wetter spots. “Can I stay tonight?”

“Yes.” Lan Zhan was pleased when Wei Ying’s head settled on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around him, holding tightly.

Wei Ying was not his. He could not be. But now that he had this, he would enjoy it for as long as it lasted. Then, he would let Wei Ying go.

In the morning, Lan Zhan awoke early to find himself in bed with a human octopus. He did not mind, save for the impact on his bladder, but he deferred moving in favor of letting Wei Ying sleep. His leg was high up on Lan Zhan’s thigh, nestled under his morning erection. His own hardness pressed against Lan Zhan’s hip, and his arm was flung across Lan Zhan’s chest. Lan Zhan breathed slowly, trying to meditate, but it was impossible with the smell and feel of Wei Ying everywhere.

Finally, Wei Ying began to stir and lifted his head. “Sorry, I drooled on you. Ugh, gross.” He wiped his mouth, sitting up with a grimace. “Not sexy.”

“I didn’t mind.”

“You’re a weirdo, Lan Zhan. Can I use some toothpaste?”

“Of course.”

Lan Zhan watched him scramble naked off the bed in search of it, and then took his turn in the bathroom, willing his erection down so he could relieve himself. It returned almost instantly, however, when he found Wei Ying back in bed, stroking his dick, an obvious motion under the sheets.

“I’m still horny,” he said.

“I can see that.”

“I can see you are, too. So, what are we going to do about it?”

Lan Zhan went to him and pulled him into his lap. “This,” he said, wrapping a hand around both of their cocks together. They kissed, and Wei Ying rocked against him until they both came all over each other, sticky and perfect. Lan Zhan kept stroking until they were both too sensitive, shivering at the intensity.

“How do you feel?” Lan Zhan asked when he could speak again. The sheets were hopelessly destroyed, and he was grateful for the small washer and dryer he’d discovered in the bathroom.

Wei Ying made a face and climbed off his lap. “A little sore, but not bad. I don’t think I’m ready for your dick again. Just give me till tomorrow.”

“Wei Ying.”

“What? You know I’m going to get that d again.” He grinned, leaning forward to press a kiss against Lan Zhan’s cheek. Lan Zhan’s stomach swooped like he was on a roller coaster, going down.

“We can’t be . . . in public together.”

“I know,” Wei Ying said, rolling his eyes. “Obviously. I’ll be on my best behavior.” He had found his sleeping pants and was pulling them on, though they were still damp. “Your dirty little secret.”

Lan Zhan felt like he had been slapped. The color drained from his face.

Wei Ying paused. “I’m joking, Lan Zhan! Honestly, this is fine. I want to keep doing it, okay? While you’re here. Please don’t get all self-flagellating and regretful now. I can see it on your face.”

How could Wei Ying read him so easily, when no one else could? Lan Zhan swallowed and reached for his robe. He pulled it on and stood. There was nothing he could say to counter Wei Ying’s joke—they both knew there was truth to it.

“Jiejie and I are cooking tonight, so we’re going to the market to get some vegetables this morning. Do you want to come? Leaving in about an hour. No pressure if you want, you know, some time to yourself.”

Lan Zhan did not want time to himself. “I’ll come, if I won’t be intruding on your time with Jiang Yanli.”

“Okay, great! Can I borrow one of your shirts? I only brought the essentials last night.”

Lan Zhan found a white t-shirt and gave it to Wei Ying, who pulled it on over his head hastily. “I’ll make sure no one sees me. And even if they do, I’ve been hanging around with you all week. No one will think anything, okay?” He lingered near the door for a moment, and Lan Zhan couldn’t resist pulling him in for another kiss. His heart thumped loudly against his ribcage. He liked the look of Wei Ying in his shirt.

“I'll see you soon,” Wei Ying said, biting his lip. Thankfully, there were no visible bruises on his neck, just a little red mark—perhaps from Lan Zhan’s teeth—that fortunately looked like it could have been a shaving injury or a mosquito bite.

They said goodbye, and Lan Zhan resisted watching him go. He took a fast, hot shower, then stripped the sheets, putting them in to wash.

He was a little nervous about how things would be with Jiang Yanli, but as they drove to the small village nearby and then explored the outdoor market, which was filled to bursting with fresh fruits and vegetables, he found not much had changed. He was still hopelessly charmed by Wei Ying, and Wei Ying was his gregarious, tactile self, though perhaps a little more restrained than usual. Jiang Yanli was very choosy about her produce and spent time haggling with each seller while Wei Ying pointed out things of interest to Lan Zhan—a stand with crabs from the lake on ice, fresh plum and loquat samples. They went from stall to stall and then bought street food for lunch, finding a spot to eat underneath a grove of cherry trees near the center of the village.

Wei Ying smiled at him as he ate his spicy meat on a stick. Lan Zhan was happy with his flatbread while Jiang Yanli chose dry noodles. She seemed much more relaxed around him now that they were familiar with each other, and Lan Zhan found he very much enjoyed watching the banter between her and Wei Ying as he pleaded for bites of her spicy noodles, which left shiny drops of oil on his lips. Lan Zhan realized he was blatantly staring and forced himself to look away, aware of the irony of Wei Ying being better able to play it cool than he was.

After they finished they drove back to Lotus Pier for an afternoon swim with Jiang Cheng, until Wei Ying and Jiang Yanli had to go to start with the hot pot preparations.

“I’m the sous chef!” Wei Ying announced, wrapping his towel around his waist. “It is a difficult duty, but a necessary one.” He bowed solemnly.

“You’re an idiot,” said Jiang Cheng from the water, where he was floating on a raft tethered to the dock.

“Bye, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying called over his shoulder. “Try not to miss me too much, you two. Be good!” He blew a kiss and fluttered his eyelashes, and Lan Zhan couldn’t help smiling back at him.

It was awkward, to say the least, spending time alone with Jiang Cheng. He gave the not-so-subtle impression that he intensely disliked Lan Zhan, for whatever reason it was impossible to fathom, seeing as though they had barely interacted. For that reason, and because he so often called Wei Ying names, he also felt a mild dislike for Jiang Cheng. For about five minutes, neither of them said anything. Then, Jiang Cheng pulled his sunglasses down and gave Lan Zhan a critical look.

“So, you’re filthy rich,” he said. “Don’t think my sister is impressed by money, because she’s not.”

“I did not think that, but thank you for the advice.”

“My brother might be, though,” Jiang Cheng muttered, more to himself than to Lan Zhan, but Lan Zhan didn’t bother responding. He stood up and collected his things. Nothing good could come of continuing the conversation. To be civil, he said goodbye, and then returned to the guest house to shower and change for dinner, wondering if Jiang Cheng saw more than he should.

Dinner was delicious, with two types of broth—one meaty and spicy, one mild and vegetarian—and platters of vegetables, tofu and meat. They sat at the gazebo table, the Yunmeng Trio and Jiang Fengmian. Yu Ziyuan was not feeling well and was resting in her room, but her presence was not much missed.

After, Lan Zhan went back to the guest house with anticipation swirling in his gut. But as the hours went by, he realized Wei Ying was not coming. The excitement quickly changed to disappointment, and then self-censure for his own assumptions, and he went to bed determined not to think any more about it. He failed. But he would have to get used to this kind of failure; he was leaving in less than a week, and disappointment was sure to follow his departure.

The next morning, Lan Zhan ran into Wei Ying on his way to the main house for breakfast, and seeing him was like falling off of a cliff, heart suddenly in his throat. Wei Ying’s eyes brightened.

“Hey,” said Wei Ying, almost shyly. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did,” Lan Zhan said, and then added, “I thought I might see you.”

“Did you want me to come over? I wanted to. I thought it might be too much. You seemed tired at dinner. Fuck. We need to exchange numbers.”

Lan Zhan reached out and squeezed his hand. Wei Ying looked around quickly, and seeing they were alone, leaned closer. “I’ll come tonight. I’ll be there every night until you leave, if you want me.”

“I do.”

“I feel so stupid I wasted a night. How many do we have left?”

“Five. I leave Sunday.”

It did not seem like many at all. But hopefully, perhaps, whatever flame there was between them would begin to burn out by then.

“I can’t wait to kiss you again,” Wei Ying said.

Lan Zhan felt his ears burn. “Is that all?”

“You know it’s not.”

Lan Zhan couldn’t wait to kiss Wei Ying again either, and he couldn’t wait for the night. They went on a long walk that afternoon while the others played card games, and he pushed Wei Ying up against the trunk of one of the larger trees, holding his hands behind his head and claiming his mouth until they were both gasping, and then Wei Ying went down on his knees. He sucked Lan Zhan’s cock sloppily, enthusiastically, his eyes leaking tears as he tried to take it too deep. Lan Zhan held his face tenderly, rubbing his thumb against the corner of Wei Ying’s mouth as he slid inside. Wei Ying was gorgeous, his lips spread wide and reddened with the effort, his pupils blown inky black.

What he lacked in skill he made up for with eagerness, and Lan Zhan showed him what he liked, guiding him with gestures instead of words until he grew in confidence. He looked up at Lan Zhan, licking the sensitive underside of the tip while jerking him off. After that, it didn’t last long. With a grunted warning, Lan Zhan tried to pull back, but Wei Ying held onto his hips and let Lan Zhan come in his mouth, all over his waiting tongue, which he stuck out for Lan Zhan to see before swallowing it down.

Lan Zhan lifted him to his feet and kissed him hard, reaching to feel for Wei Ying.

“I . . . came already.” Wei Ying whispered it like a secret, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Lan Zhan’s heart throbbed painfully. He kissed Wei Ying’s cheeks and the pink tip of his nose, and then his mouth again for good measure.

As they walked back to the house holding hands and bumping shoulders, Wei Ying gave him a cheeky smile. “The thing with the tongue and the . . . I saw it in a porn. Was it hot in real life?”

“Hotter.”

Wei Ying skipped a little, his hair bobbing as he did. “That’s high praise from you, rich gege. I’ll have to try some other experiments.”

Wei Ying was going to kill him.

Three days and nights passed by quickly, their normal daytime routines punctuated by sometimes frantic, sometimes tender stolen moments together—in the forest, in the kitchen, and of course at night in the guest house. They were careful not to be too close during the day under Yu Ziyuan’s watchful eyes. There were no more attempts at footsie under the table, and Wei Ying was obviously trying to maintain the peace with his foster mother, though Lan Zhan could tell it was not easy. He tried not to let his gaze linger on Wei Ying when they were with the others, but he wasn’t sure he was always successful. Neither of them talked about the end of the week.

On the night before Lan Zhan’s last, Wei Ying suggested a swim, and they quietly tiptoed their way down the path to the beach at midnight, not wanting to risk being too close to Lotus Pier.

“Try not to slip on the rocks,” said Wei Ying, who had brought along a flashlight and used it to illuminate their path. “They can get pretty slick at night. Oh shit,” he said, and almost fell himself before Lan Zhan reached out to steady him around the waist.

“Thanks, Lan Zhan.”

They undressed quickly, and Lan Zhan only got bitten by a couple of mosquitoes before they made their way into the water. They swam out until they could not touch the bottom, and treaded water together, kissing whenever their faces got close. Wei Ying told him a story about a giant carnivorous tortoise that lived in the lake and would pick off villagers one by one, and then return to the bottom to sleep for a hundred years before waking for another feast.

“I think it’s been around a hundred years since he last appeared, Lan Zhan. You better watch out. Oh. What was that sound? Did you feel that?”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan felt like a kid again, the instinctual vulnerability that faded with age returning and making his heart skip a beat. Here with Wei Ying in this place, he could imagine such a thing might be real. Wei Ying’s legs tangled with his under the water.

“Lan Zhan, behind you! The tortoise of slaughter!” He laughed and pulled on Lan Zhan’s shoulders, and they wrestled, close together and not really trying to separate. They laughed perhaps too loudly, and then Lan Zhan got his arms around Wei Ying and held him still to kiss him properly, back in the shallower water. They smiled as they kissed, and Lan Zhan was going to miss this. He was going to miss Wei Ying.

On their last night together, Wei Ying came to the guest house almost an hour later than usual.

“I think Jiang Cheng knows about us,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed, where Lan Zhan had been waiting for him. “Sorry. I tried to be careful.”

Lan Zhan nodded. “I see.” He was not surprised. And strangely, he found he was not particularly concerned. A reckless part of him wanted them to be exposed, he realized, in spite of what it would mean. But that would not be good for Wei Ying, not while he lived with Yu Ziyuan.

“I don’t think he’ll tell anyone. He wouldn’t.” Wei Ying looked at him cautiously.

“It’s okay, Wei Ying. Did you think I would be angry?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you all right?”

“I don’t know.” Wei Ying pulled his feet up onto the bed and scooted into Lan Zhan’s side. Lan Zhan set the book he’d been reading down on the bed and opened his arms.

Wei Ying’s head rested on his shoulder. “What time is your flight?”

“Early.” He wished it was later, but the wiser part of him was aware it was better not to linger.

“Back to real life.”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan said, pressing a kiss to his temple. He was not sure anymore. These weeks at Lotus Pier with Wei Ying felt more real than his life back in Suzhou, his carefully constructed daily routine of sleep and work and music. It was a life he valued. He liked his work and his students, but he could not remember a time he felt more glad to be alive. Maybe that was why it was not real. No one could experience this kind of happiness for long.

“Let’s not say goodbye, okay?” Wei Ying looked up at him.

“What will we say?”

“How about see you later?”

“All right.”

Wei Ying kissed his neck, right at the juncture between throat and collarbone, his mouth opening hot and latching there. It took Lan Zhan a moment to realize what he was doing. He supposed it was all right; he wouldn’t be swimming at Lotus Pier again, so no one would see the mark.

“I want you to fuck me, Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying reached down to hold him where he was already hard, straining against the sheet covering his lap. He squeezed, and Lan Zhan couldn’t help sighing at how good it felt.

“Aren’t you sore?” He pressed his hips up into the touch. He was naked, and there was a little wet spot on the sheet near the tip of his cock. Wei Ying rubbed his thumb over it.

“Not very. I think I’m used to it now. And I brought lots of lube. I want you to do it raw.”

Lan Zhan felt his whole body go hot. He thought he should probably protest, but he was clean, and he wanted it—he wanted to fuck Wei Ying with nothing between them.

“Yes,” he said simply, pulling back the sheet.

Wei Ying undressed quickly and climbed into his lap, and they kissed like that, rocking together while Lan Zhan reached for one of Wei Ying’s never-ending supply of lube packets. He would not think about the future, how Wei Ying might—no, would—use it with someone else. It was right for Wei Ying to have fun, meet someone his own age who could be with him out in the open, who wouldn’t make him feel like a shameful secret. He wouldn’t think about it now.

“Oh, fuck, your cock is so big,” Wei Ying said, groaning as Lan Zhan started to push in. He was straddling Lan Zhan’s hips from on top, and it gave Lan Zhan a perfect view. His abdominal muscles strained as he slid down onto Lan Zhan, taking him deeper and deeper. The rabbit tattoo trembled.

Lan Zhan traced the tattoo with one finger, and Wei Ying let out a sound between a giggle and a moan. He was ticklish on his sides. “Why the rabbit?”

“Well, if you haven’t noticed,” Wei Ying said, baring his teeth. “It’s a nickname from school. Also, when I was a kid, before I came here, I had pet rabbits. They’re really good pets. I recommend them.”

“Are they?”

“Mm-hmm,” Wei Ying said, his ass coming flush to Lan Zhan’s pelvis. Lan Zhan was throbbing inside him, held tightly by the clench of his body. “You should—ah!—get a rabbit to keep you company. Why do I have a feeling you are lonely in Suzhou?” Wei Ying’s cheeks were pink as he looked down at him, bracing his hands on his chest.

Lan Zhan had never been lonely before. He liked being alone, for the most part. But then again, he had not had anyone to miss. “I’ll take it under consideration.”

“Hah! Lan Zhan, only you could say something like that with your bare dick in my ass. I’m obviously not working hard enough.” He shifted experimentally, squeezing around him, and Lan Zhan let out a gust of breath. It was exquisite torture. “Mmm. That’s better.”

Wei Ying’s cock went from mostly to fully hard as he wiggled in Lan Zhan’s lap, rocking back and forth and using his muscles to slowly drive Lan Zhan out of his mind. His eyes were heavy-lidded with pleasure, and Lan Zhan held him by the hips, letting Wei Ying set the pace. He slowly began to rise up and down, thigh muscles tensing, and Lan Zhan bit the inside of his cheek hard to distract him from the slow drag on his cock, the sweet way Wei Ying moaned when he got the right angle. It was difficult to stop himself from taking the lead, but he wanted Wei Ying to use him for his own pleasure.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, and Wei Ying smiled.

It was slow and delicious, neither of them in a hurry. Wei Ying swiveled his hips, grinding on Lan Zhan’s cock, his own erection dripping onto Lan Zhan’s belly. Lan Zhan knew that if he touched Wei Ying, it would be over in an instant. He wanted to wait until Wei Ying asked.

“Is it good?” Wei Ying asked, rocking back and forth. “Do you like this?”

Lan Zhan pulled him down for a kiss. “Yes, I like it. You’re doing so well.”

Sometime later, when they had both nearly come and then stopped themselves, breathing heavily and staring into each other’s eyes, Wei Ying whimpered in frustration.

“Fuck,” he said, “I need it harder.”

“You want me to fuck you?”

“Yeah. Fuck,” Wei Ying closed his eyes and bit his lip while Lan Zhan jostled him on his lap, spearing him deeply. He bent his knees for leverage and fucked up into Wei Ying while Wei Ying held on, and then, when it was not enough, he pulled out and flipped Wei Ying onto all fours so he could take him from behind.

Lan Zhan watched his cock disappear into Wei Ying’s hole, shaking at how good it felt, how good it looked, while Wei Ying arched his back and slammed his hips to meet each thrust. The bed creaked with the force of it, and Lan Zhan felt his control unravel completely. He had always been so careful with Wei Ying, so aware of his inexperience, but now, inflamed beyond endurance and knowing this was the last time, he held nothing back, giving Wei Ying the full force of his cock. Wei Ying wailed, and Lan Zhan fucked him hard, holding him by the hips and digging his fingers hard enough to bruise. The sounds of their lovemaking filled the room—Wei Ying’s moans, their skin slapping together, Lan Zhan’s harsh breaths. He was getting close.

‘Wei Ying,” he said, hardly able to speak. “Can I come inside you?”

“Yes, please, please do it. I’m so close, Lan Zhan.” He had his hand on his cock, his arm jerking underneath the bowl of his hips.

Lan Zhan felt the unstoppable tension building in his thighs, in his lower back, his ass clenching as he drove deep and started to come. The release pulsed through him in waves, and then seconds later, he felt Wei Ying’s own climax ripple around him. Wei Ying fell forward onto the bed, burying his groan into the pillow under his head. “Oh my god, Lan Zhan,” he said, “you’ve destroyed me.” It didn’t sound like a bad thing. He was still trembling, and Lan Zhan stayed inside of him, covering him and pressing him down into the sheets. He moved Wei Ying’s hair to the side and kissed the sweaty nape of his neck, then sunk his teeth in.

“Ah!” Wei Ying clenched around his softening cock. Lan Zhan licked the marks he’d made, and then did it again, high on Wei Ying’s shoulder. Wei Ying turned his head for a kiss, and Lan Zhan found his lips, though the angle was awkward. He put his hand down where they were still joined and pressed a finger inside, feeling how it made Wei Ying shake. He was so wet with Lan Zhan’s come, it went in easily. He wanted so much.

“I’ll get something to clean you up,” he said, with one more kiss.

“Thank you,” Wei Ying whispered, his entire body lax and lazy. “You’re going to spoil me.”

“I like spoiling you.”

They eventually reconfigured into a more comfortable position and dozed for a while, waking up in the middle of the night to do it again. This time, Lan Zhan moved into Wei Ying gently, holding his hands above his head and kissing him as their bodies strained together. He had been fooling himself to think the intensity of their connection would fade in a week. He could spend years like this, maybe the rest of his life, and never tire of Wei Ying.

“I never got to play my flute for you,” Wei Ying said, after. “And I never got to hear you play.”

“Someday,” Lan Zhan said, though of course he knew it might not happen. But they had promised not to say goodbye.

“All right. That’s a promise. I’ll hold you to it.”

Eventually, Lan Zhan drifted to sleep with Wei Ying in his arms. At around dawn, he was woken by the sound of clothes rustling, and he opened his eyes to find a fully dressed Wei Ying standing at the side of the bed. His stomach lurched sickly, knowing what it meant.

“I’ll see you later, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whispered, his breath warm and sweet against Lan Zhan’s cheek. And then, he was gone.

Wei Ying did not appear that morning while Lan Zhan packed his rental car. Lan Zhan had not expected him to. He said his goodbyes and thanks to each of the Jiangs, his eyes scanning around all the while, hoping for one last glimpse.

“You’re welcome to come back any time,” said Jiang Fengmian. “I’ll tell Qiren you were a delightful guest, as I’m sure he knows.”

“Thank you.” Lan Zhan gave him a respectful nod. “It was a pleasure to spend time with you all.”

Jiang Cheng nodded curtly, and Jiang Yanli gave him a brief, friendly hug. Yu Ziyuan was disappointed her matchmaking attempt had gone nowhere, she didn’t show it. She wished him well, though perhaps a little less effusively than before.

He was numb during the drive to the airport. He had never gotten Wei Ying’s phone number, he realized, and he wondered if he’d subconsciously resisted it, knowing it would only be a temptation he didn’t need. Wei Ying had his whole life ahead of him. He was just getting started, and Lan Zhan had his life to return to as well. School would be starting soon, and he had lesson plans to write. He imagined the look on his uncle’s face if he brought Wei Ying home. Impossible. He had to be content with what they’d had, a memory he would look back on with fondness.

His apartment felt very empty.

Two days after his return, he met his brother in Shanghai for lunch at a vegetarian restaurant.

“So how was Lotus Pier?” Lan Huan asked, his eyes kind and interested as always.

“Good,” said Lan Zhan. “It was nice to see them.” He turned his attention to his food, picking up his chopsticks and taking a bite of noodles, though he was suddenly not very hungry.

“What happened, didi?”

Lan Zhan looked up. Of course, his brother would know when something was not right. He always was able to read Lan Zhan more easily than anyone else—until Wei Ying. Thinking of him brought a fresh wave of pain. He had not been planning to tell his brother. He had not been planning to tell anyone, but before he knew it, the words were on his tongue, tripping out hesitantly, haltingly.

Lan Huan listened. His eyes widened at the first disclosure of the name, but that was the extent of his surprise Lan Zhan had slept with a man. Of course, Lan Zhan did not go into details, but his ears were so red, there was no hiding it.

“And you don’t think there’s any hope?” Lan Huan said, once he was finished.

“How can there be? He’s not even nineteen yet.” Lan Zhan pressed his fingers to his temples, feeling the beginning of a tension headache. “It was a summer fling.”

“It sounds like more, to you.”

Lan Zhan closed his eyes, his throat tight and hot. He had not expected his brother to be so sympathetic, and it had the unfortunate effect of making him feel even more vulnerable.

“It is true he is young. It would make things difficult for both of you.”

Lan Zhan had gone over and over it in his head, wondering if he had done the right thing by not offering to stay in touch. But he could never justify making the other choice. There were too many potential pitfalls for both of them, but especially for Wei Ying, who depended on the Jiangs for his tuition and would be more vulnerable to any negative repercussions. It would certainly be a scandal. He simply could not imagine his uncle accepting such a relationship, or what his school would do if any of his colleagues found out. “It’s impossible.”

“I’m sorry. You know you can always tell me anything, didi. I love you.” His brother squeezed his hand.

“Thank you, ge.” He picked up his chopsticks again, though his food had long gone cold. “I will be okay.” He didn’t want his brother to worry about him.

Lan Huan gave him a warm, slightly sad smile. “I know you will.”