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Lan Zhan arrives bright and early at her university dorm, at the very crack of dawn. She gets off the lift at the highest floor while carrying two minimally-packed duffle bags in her hands, and heads straight for the room right in the corner, the last one down the long corridor. It is the same room she has stayed in for the past one year at college, and if fate—or money—permits, would continue to be the same one she’d reside in for the next three years. It really shouldn’t be a problem, Lan Zhan muses. Her family has a long history of making hefty donations to this university, and her uncle even sits on the board. The perk is that Lan Zhan gets the best accommodation available on campus, and the option of having no roommates when it would otherwise be the default. In the end, money always talks.
And Lan Zhan had always been a solitary type of woman.
Which is the same reason she becomes highly disturbed when she sees two names printed on the golden room plaque right outside her door, spelling out very clearly to her that there would be two occupants to this room this semester, instead of just one.
—Wei Wuxian
—Lan Wangji
Unwanted Occupant’s name was even ordered atop of hers, which was not even alphabetically correct whatsoever, and it irked Lan Zhan to no end. Surely the university had made a mistake. Surely they knew the Gusu Lans were not to be trifled with. And surely they knew Lan Zhan was not one to tolerate such an arrangement, especially when she’d been such a model student and had much cause for complaint.
Kicking the door down and throwing both her duffle bags down—Unwanted Occupant had yet to arrive and stake her claim on any particular side of the room, thank fuck—Lan Zhan made haste for the administrative office on level one, already hot on her heels and stewing silently in irritation.
Hell hath no fury like the scorn of a Lan Zhan deprived of her space.
It’s still too early for the office to have any visitors, and so it seems like she’s the first one in for the day. Lan Zhan marches right up to the front desk and waits quietly to be attended to, trying to swallow down her impatience—and yet also failing particularly miserably when her lean fingers insist on drumming away at the counter; and the heel of her boots, tapping restlessly against the floor.
The woman that eventually comes out to attend to her is a frail old lady who moves at such a snail’s pace it almost gives Lan Zhan a headache. But she’s doing her best at seven in the morning, and Lan Zhan cannot bring herself to fault her for that.
“I believe there has been a mix-up in my accommodation,” Lan Zhan informs her with all of the politeness and grace she can muster, waving the card to her room in hand. “I am not supposed to have a roommate. It should be in the system.”
“Oh, dear, is that so? Give me a moment, and I’ll check it,” says the lady, who then takes a minute to settle down in her creaky computer chair, and another full minute to start up an old Windows computer.
Lan Zhan waits uncomfortably in the silence, wondering what becomes of the donations her family regularly gives to the university if they are not being utilised to upgrade their faulty technical equipment.
But, well, for what it is worth, everything happens for a reason.
She had been wrongly assigned a roommate for a reason. The frail old lady had been tasked to attend to her today for a reason. Aforementioned lady taking nearly twenty minutes to complete what should have been a quick five-minute check on the computer happened for a reason.
Because the very second Wei Ying walks through those doors in her absurdly high ponytail, her impossibly short mini skirt and her signature red kitten heels, she becomes that reason.
“Hi, I’m so sorry,” Wei Ying stumbles over to the counter in her clickety-clackety heels, brandishing a room card of her own high in the air. Such a pretty little thing, Lan Zhan thinks, as her virgin heart skips a beat. Even the way Wei Ying parts her glossy lips open, all breathless, and draws her features so effortlessly into an adorable pout—is so infuriatingly gorgeous. “There’s something wrong with my card. I was told I had room 901. It won’t open.”
“Oh, dear,” the lady says again, taking another minute to shift out of her chair, and shuffle over to her. “What’s your name?”
“Wei Ying,” Wei Ying chirps, although she remembers a second later it might be different in the system. “Oh! Actually, Wei Wuxian.”
Lan Zhan’s eyes have not strayed from her direction of the room, ever since she had entered. Not even once.
Actually, quick check; had Lan Zhan even paused to take a breath?
“That is my room,” Lan Zhan says, with a mouth that has suddenly become so numb, trying her best to manage a single coherent thought in the presence of Formerly Unwanted Occupant. “Room 901.”
See, up till this point, Wei Ying hadn’t so much as offered her a glance. Lan Zhan does not blame her. The girl had rushed in with two very heavy luggages, ones that have become all scratched up and scuffed horribly from the long and rough journey here. It is only natural that she would have been hyper-focused on the task of getting her room sorted out above anything else.
A pretty girl like Wei Ying does not have to ever be concerned about anyone else in the room.
But oh, the second she turns to Lan Zhan, her silver eyes are crinkling up so beautifully, and she flashes the brightest, most blinding smile that sears right through Lan Zhan’s ice-cold heart.
“Wow, it must be fate, then! Fancy meeting you here, I’m your new roomie!”
Lan Zhan is a simple woman.
A pretty girl like Wei Ying tells her it is fate that they have met, and she commits it right to memory, she takes it right to heart.
“Room 901?” the old lady repeats in a solemn mutter to herself, as she continues to read off the computer screen. “Ah, it does say here that it’s for a single occupant. Hold on,” she turns back to Lan Zhan. “Could that be the room you were enquiring about?”
And if the universe has divined this for them, then what is Lan Zhan to do?
Not grab what the universe has to offer?
Absolutely ludicrous.
“I was wrong,” Lan Zhan immediately says, on the spot. She has always been a woman that knows exactly when to admit her faults, and shortcomings. She had been too impatient, rushing all the way here to sort out such a minor inconvenience even before taking a good hard look at what should rightfully be her roommate. Did she really need all that space for herself, anyway? Surely there was room to fit such a pretty girl in. “It slipped my mind. I recall requesting a roommate this semester.”
“Hm,” the lady says, clicking furiously at her mouse. She remains sceptical of how true that is, but Lan Zhan’s spur-of-the-moment decision saves her a ton of unnecessary paperwork. “If you insist, miss. I can put in a request for a new card for her, but it’ll take up to a week for it to be ready.”
“That is good enough,” Lan Zhan says, with an unflinching gaze. Her piercing golden eyes—they haven’t so much as budged from the girl. “We will just have to share a card in the meantime.”
“Oh, if you don’t mind!” Wei Ying grins. “I’ll have to trouble you for the next week or so.”
Lan Zhan answers coolly, “It is no problem at all,” and suddenly finds herself second-guessing the baggy sweatpants she decided to wear out this morning.
“Then, let’s go get settled in our room, roomie!” Wei Ying says, as two hands anxiously reach down for her luggages once more. “What’s your name?”
Lan Zhan races to grab hold of the handles of both luggages before Wei Ying even gets the chance to. Their fingers brush right against each other, establishing their first ever instance of skin contact. Soft. Tender. Exceedingly Soft. She must douse herself in baby powder daily. Lan Zhan already cannot get enough of her. “Lan Zhan,” she answers quietly.
“Aiya, I can manage, Lan Zhaan!” Wei Ying protests, already calling Lan Zhan’s name in such a pretty sing-song voice Lan Zhan wants to die. “I made it this far! I can make it to our room.”
“Enough,” Lan Zhan says decisively, and Wei Ying simply listens to her—as she always would to Lan Zhan in their following days together, so obedient, so good, so unresisting always, to her favourite Lan er-jiejie. “You are dressed inappropriately. I will do it.”
Wei Ying lets out an incredulous laugh, like she cannot believe she is already being chided by a stranger within just the first ten minutes of meeting her. “Okay, my big and strong jiejie! Your Wei Ying-meimei will listen to you.”
—That’s when something so dark and visceral twists in Lan Zhan’s stomach.
And she knows it so acutely in her gut, that the universe wanted this for her.
When it is time to exit the office, Lan Zhan kicks the flimsy glass doors open with the heel of her boots, and steps aside for Wei Ying to take her leave first.
“Ladies first,” Lan Zhan says dryly, barely breaking a sweat even with the two heavy luggages in her hands. “I insist.”
Wei Ying merely laughs, her already rosy cheeks turning even pinker than Lan Zhan thought possible.
“We’re going to have so much fun,” Wei Ying happily titters.
Lan Zhan already knows she will.
.
.
.
Wei Ying is a last-minute transfer from Yunmeng University—from which she had hastily left all because of unwanted family drama that she did not want to get too deep into with Lan Zhan. That is fine with her. Lan Zhan does not like to pry unnecessarily, and what matters most is that Wei Ying is here, and not how she got here.
“Jiang a-yi likes me better when I’m apart from A-cheng,” she had happily explained to Lan Zhan, whilst fluffing the pillows on their one queen-sized bed together. Lan Zhan is thankful she always had a strange habit of hoarding more pillows than necessary. And if Wei Ying still needs more, then, well, Lan Zhan has no choice but to offer herself up as a rather viable option. “So, I think this distance will do us some good. Jiang-shushu knew someone on the board, so I managed to do a transfer here last-minute. Hey, did this room always only have one bed?”
Lan Zhan casually ignores the question. She has heard of the Jiangs, just lightly in passing, during bland dinnertime conversations with her uncle and brother whenever she returns home for the weekend. Her brother is already working, has just taken over the family business, even; and so it cannot be helped that most conversational topics over the dinner table centre around dreary politics regarding new company mergers or the boring and uninspiring lives of those who run in their closed circles.
Interestingly enough, she has heard little about the Jiangs’ adopted daughter. It is not something that strikes her as particularly strange, though; the Lan heiress rarely attended the rich gala events that her brother was often expected to attend, and so would naturally have little knowledge of the other families’ affairs. She had always hated the fanfare of it all, hated dolling up and having to look pretty for obnoxious old men that she’d always be forced into making horrid small talk with.
Somewhere along the way, she eventually ditched the dangly earrings and tight qipaos for comfortable tuxedos and suits. And then she stopped going altogether.
If she had known earlier that Wei Ying would be amongst the likes of those guests, though…
“Your uncle knew someone on the board,” Lan Zhan says, curiously. “Was it my shufu? Uncle Qiren?”
“Oh!” Wei Ying’s beautiful eyes light up in recognition. “Yes, yes! It was him that I met in the office. He looked so scary, but he’s actually pretty nice! He said I’d be way more comfortable here. Are you close to him?”
“Ah,” Lan Zhan says in acknowledgement. So, it appears her uncle has already acquainted himself with Wei Ying. That would only make things easier for her in the long-run. “Yes, I return home every weekend to visit him and my brother.”
“That’s so nice,” Wei Ying gushes, as she hops up onto her far side of the bed. Her legs are swinging together as she eagerly suggests, “Maybe one of these weekends, you should take me with you. I’d love to see him again and thank him.”
…Oh, such a sweet girl. It is only their first meeting, and already Wei Ying is asking to return home with her.
Wei Ying is adorable. A girl after her own heart.
“Do you think they’ll give us another bed?” Wei Ying chirps again, having not gotten a satisfactory answer the first time round. Lan Zhan whips her head to her rather stiffly, seemingly displeased by the suggestion. “Ah! Jiejie, please don’t take offence. I just don’t want to get all up in your space!”
“There is space,” Lan Zhan asserts, although she does dial down her displeasure now that she is conscious it has come to show on her face. It is a queen-sized bed, and Wei Ying is so tiny, in all of her 5’1 goodness. Even if Lan Zhan towers a whole head above her, there remains plenty of space for them in the bed. Not that Lan Zhan plans to let Wei Ying have any, however.
But she senses Wei Ying’s hesitance, and she knows she has to play nice with the girl this early into their relationship. The last thing Lan Zhan wants to do is come across as an unaccommodating, hostile presence. She would hate to scare her. “I will put in a request downstairs for you.”
“Yay! Thank you, jiejie!” Wei Ying answers, with a bunny-toothed grin. “You’re the best.”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan says back.
Lan Zhan never does put in that request.
.
.
.
Falling for a pretty girl like Wei Ying is as difficult as it looks.
Wei Ying may be a last-minute transfer, but it takes all of two weeks for everyone on campus to know her name. She is beautiful, she is popular, and she is a classic overachiever. She majors in business, just like Lan Zhan, and takes all the same classes that she does. She also does all the optional assignments for extra credit, easily cosies up to every professor that has her, joins the cheerleading team on top of everything else, and even becomes cheer captain by the end of her second year. There is nothing not to like about Wei Ying at all, and that is the problem. Everyone wanted to be her friend, or be her. The girl was that sought after.
Lan Zhan wanted to keep all of Wei Ying to herself. Why should anyone else be entitled to Wei Ying’s time as much as she was? Lan Zhan saw her first. In a much more animalistic world, perhaps things would be far simpler. Lan Zhan would have staked her claim on the girl on sight, and settled everything with just one bite. But while Wei Ying may belong to the rest of the world during the day, Lan Zhan makes sure she is the one Wei Ying always returns to at night.
(It was not that hard to accomplish such a thing. They already share a bed, and wake up to each other’s faces every morning. Lan Zhan always made it a point to wake up at least half an hour before she had to usually get up, just so she could have more time to admire Wei Ying’s sleeping countenance.
And if Wei Ying’s pink silk nightgown slides a little too far down her ample chest as a result of all that tossing and turning in her sleep, Lan Zhan is not about to pull it back up for her to protect some ill-conceived notion of modesty. No, Lan Zhan will keep her hands to herself; not that they ever strayed far from Wei Ying in the first place.
She is well-aware of physical boundaries, after all, and a little nip slip never hurt anybody.)
Still, Lan Zhan takes it nice and slow. She worms her way into Wei Ying’s life quietly, finding reasons to occupy every part of it possible. She knows very well the type of girl Wei Ying is, just how many friends she has, and just how easily she could flutter her pretty little wings and up and leave her. If Lan Zhan tries to force an unnatural sort of kinship onto her, a girl like Wei Ying would scare easily, and shut herself away completely from her. Lan Zhan absolutely cannot have that. Lan Zhan cannot have Wei Ying thinking twice about her, before she even gets her. And Lan Zhan, oh, she knows she can be very much uninhibited, if she wants to. It always felt like there were no rules that she was particularly bound to when it came to Wei Ying.
And this was coming from a woman who had believed in rules all her life.
So Lan Zhan starts with her phone. Wei Ying was a notorious klutz, and had already lost her phone twice within the semester, what with all the hostel parties she went to. Both times, she somehow managed to retrieve it still, thanks to the grace of others who’d found it and returned it to her.
“Turn your Location Sharing on and share it with me,” Lan Zhan finally tells her one night, already boldly reaching for her phone on the nightstand. “This way, I will always know where your phone is.” And where you are.
“That’s actually a good idea,” Wei Ying responds, allowing Lan Zhan to do as she pleases. She always places her blind faith in Lan Zhan, trusting her whole-heartedly! “Plus, it’s easier for you to pick me up from parties, anyway.”
“Yes,” Lan Zhan hums, nodding away. That was another curious thing: Wei Ying always dialled her number first, when it came to needing a ride back home at three in the morning. This was despite Wei Ying constantly having a string of boyfriends who she could very well call instead. Perhaps Lan Zhan proved to be far more accessible, and reliable? Lan Zhan never let the phone ring for more than three consecutive times before picking it up. Not that anyone else called her as much as Wei Ying did. Whatever it was, Lan Zhan was always her top choice, and the Lan heiress never begrudged it. Never questioned it, even; she never wanted to give Wei Ying a reason to second-guess her decision to choose Lan Zhan first.
“Now I will always know where you are.” So I can keep you safe. With me.
Just like that, Lan Zhan becomes privy to Wei Ying’s location, 24/7.
Lan Zhan loves their long drives home, anyway. Loves picking Wei Ying up and strapping her safely into the front seat of her car, like a loving boyfriend would. Loves asking after her and whether she had fun at the party, loves listening to Wei Ying talk about her night, loves placing a hand against her slender thigh and watching Wei Ying squirm underneath her gaze, pretending like she does not like it.
Lan Zhan loves being needed. Being depended on for every little thing by the girl, like if Lan Zhan were to cease to exist then Wei Ying would be rendered completely helpless.
It is for this same reason that Wei Ying never gets a room card of her own. Wei Ying has no need for that. As long as Lan Zhan is around, what does she need such a thing for? When she had told Lan Zhan to pick the card up on her behalf, what with her being so busy with after-school cheerleading practice, Lan Zhan had agreed, and then promptly hid it behind one of their potted plants.
If Wei Ying needed anything, then she only needed to call for Lan Zhan.
“Lan er-jiejie, you’re the best,” Wei Ying would sigh. “You’d make such a good boyfriend if you were a guy!”
“I already make a good boyfriend as a girl,” Lan Zhan would quip back, all stone-faced.
“Jiejie, you’re so funny,” Wei Ying laughs.
Lan Zhan is not being funny, she is being extremely serious.
But she understands it is all part of the process.
.
.
.
Ah, yes, the process.
Wei Ying, like all pretty girls, thinks her life is destined for a man.
Lan Zhan cannot blame her. With the way that things work in their circles, it is only natural that Wei Ying thinks she needs to get married to one. By the age of twenty-five, she is expected to wed a man of similar standing as her, if not better. Considering her relationship with Yu Ziyuan is already as rocky as it is, Lan Zhan understands there is no way Wei Ying would have even considered building a life of her own outside of her a-yi’s wishes. Although, since she is only an adopted daughter, she is still not held to expectations as stringent as her Yanli-jiejie would be held to, for example.
Luckily for Jiang Yanli, she found love in her arranged match, the arrogant and pretentious Jin heir that was Jin Zixuan. And very unluckily for Wei Ying, Yu Ziyuan had deliberately introduced her to another Jin, in the hopes of cementing their stronghold within the Jin family.
And thus, Wei Ying is matched with Jin Zixun.
It is the worst match possible. There is no one more undeserving of Wei Ying than he is. Not only is he grossly unattractive and miles beneath Wei Ying in standards of appearance, he also deems it Wei Ying’s honour to be with him instead of the other way round, thinking himself better than Wei Ying simply because of the disparity in their social standings.
Lan Zhan does not take such a thing lying down.
In fact, it was remarkably easy to take him down.
See, there was no way Wei Ying would have broken up with Jin Zixun of her own accord. Not without compelling reason, at least. She would have some explaining to do if she did so, particularly to the likes of an aunt who had laboured so much over matching Wei Ying with a Jin who didn’t mind the daughter of a servant.
Lan Zhan simply resolved to make things much easier for her.
In love, we all make our own sacrifices. Despite being severely averse to social media, Lan Zhan got herself on the “apps” and created several fake profiles to slide into Jin Zixun’s “DMs”. It did not take very long for him to succumb to the charms of xXHotTitty69Xx or MILFCockSucker23, or the profile photos she had blatantly swiped from popular porn stars on the Internet. If anything, Jin Zixun only had himself to blame. Who in the right mind would sext with anonymous strangers online without verifying who they actually were? It had been utterly revolting to have to even engage in such “talk” with Jin Zixun, but it was all worth it once she attained the screenshots that she wanted.
She fired off all evidence of her sexting with Jin Zixun to Wei Ying’s rather active social media account, and bided her time in the library until she saw that her DMs had all been marked “Read”. She then returned to her dorm room in time to see Wei Ying huddled beneath their sheets, sniffling pitifully over the betrayal of her ex-lover.
As much as she had loathed Jin Zixun, Wei Ying had still been banking on some sort of future with him to appease her a-yi. Lan Zhan did feel bad about crushing Wei Ying’s hopes in such a manner, but knew it had to be done for their future.
Besides, once Wei Ying realised that Lan Zhan was the absolute best option for her, she would forget every inch of today’s heartbreak.
Knowing that it was finally her time to shine, Lan Zhan immediately dropped everything in hand to rush to her side, and pull Wei Ying right to her chest.
Wei Ying-meimei is a small, lovely, precious thing that easily collapses right into Lan Zhan’s arms, desperately aching for comfort. If Lan Zhan squeezed her any tighter, Lan Zhan thinks, the girl might even break.
“He did not deserve you,” Lan Zhan tells her, gently kissing all of the tears away on her face. The girl’s vulnerability is a magical thing. Everytime Wei Ying gets like this, Lan Zhan knows she could do anything to her, and Wei Ying would hardly question it. Wei Ying only trusts her the most, believes her jiejie to be the only one capable of taking care of her. “You always knew he was a flirt.”
“He’s so disgusting! Just the worst!” Wei Ying sobs, clinging needily onto her Lan er-jiejie. “I hate men!”
“You do not need them,” Lan Zhan shamelessly says, hardly bothering to correct herself. “Especially him.”
“Hhhhhh, I just need you, jiejie,” Wei Ying moans out, plastering her face right into Lan Zhan’s very comforting bosom. Lan Zhan can barely hide her smile as her beautiful Wei Ying cuddles urgently up against her, nuzzling her pretty face further into her jiejie’s neck. “From now on, I only need jiejie! I need no one else!”
“Wei Ying needs no one else,” Lan Zhan nods, staunchly agreeing, threading her fingers through Wei Ying’s long, silky ponytail as she does so. “I thought we had long established this.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Wei Ying agrees with additional sniffles, smothering her face once more against Lan er-jiejie’s chest. Ah, Lan Zhan likes her so much. It’s absolutely lethal, the things Wei Ying does to Lan Zhan’s heart when she acts like this. “I’d like only to be with jiejie forever. Jiejie’s my one and only best friend!”
…Huh.
Lan Zhan’s smile tightens. Just a tad bit.
Still a ways to go until Wei Ying is fully hers, but she just has to trust the process…
.
.
.
If Jin Zixun was a bad fit, then Yu Ziyuan will give her another.
Wei Ying is set up with Nie Mingjue, who is much older than her and already the established president of Nie Corporation. Already, Lan Zhan knows she has met her match. On paper, everything looks good: Nie Mingjue has the family background, the wealth, the company, the looks. He is an extremely generous lover and treats Wei Ying very well, does all the right things, takes her out to expensive candlelit dinners and buys her all the shiny things she could possibly want.
For the first time ever, everything goes right for Wei Ying.
For the first time ever, Lan Zhan fears she will lose.
She abhors Nie Mingjue, abhors everything he stands for, abhors his bodybuilder physique and abhors the fact that he is everything she is not. She loathes that he is a good match, loathes that she could very well see Wei Ying marrying him, loathes that there is a good chance Wei Ying will become his trophy wife, and not hers.
That position was always meant for Wei Ying next to Lan Zhan. Not some filthy, sweaty, older man who used three-in-one shampoo. Wei Ying needed someone gentle and tender, with the grace of a woman and the firm touch of a Lan. Wei Ying absolutely does not need anyone so robust and hard-headed like Nie Mingjue, and should not be getting so giddy after every date she has with him, like he’s the very epitome of a lover she’s been looking for.
She swallows all of that resentment in front of Wei Ying and confides in her big brother instead, who, is not only fully supportive of his sister’s unrepentant endeavours to completely destroy her crush’s one chance at love, but also tells her to invite Wei Ying and her new beau over for lunch at the old Lan mansion, only so he can help her get to the root of the problem.
“No man is infallible,” Lan Huan had advised her. “Leave it to your big brother.”
And so they put their cruel plan into motion. Nie Mingjue is happy to meet the family of Wei Ying’s best friend for lunch, no matter how odd and out-of-the-blue the invitation is, and Wei Ying—well, Wei Ying never denies an offer to spend more time with her gorgeous Lan er-jiejie.
Lan Zhan helps Wei Ying pick out a bright yellow sundress for the occasion, one that isn’t particularly low-cut and goes to just above her knees.
“You should make a good impression on shufu,” Lan Zhan tells her, as she seats an overly excited Wei Ying down before their dressing table. Strangely enough, she appears even more anxious than Wei Ying is for this meeting, furiously combing at and twisting her meimei’s long hair into elegant braids. It puzzles Wei Ying even to see it; how badly Lan Zhan wants to make her presentable for her uncle. “It has been a while since you met him, so you will have to play nice.”
“Jiejie! You’re dolling me up so nice for your uncle,” Wei Ying giggle-snorts, staring confusedly at the mirror before her. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was the boyfriend that jiejie’s taking home to meet him!”
“Nonsense,” Lan Zhan softly chides, lowering her head right next to Wei Ying’s face, so the curve of her lips ghosts right above Wei Ying’s ear. In a chilling whisper, she murmurs out, her tongue almost flicking out against her skin, “Wei Ying is my girlfriend.”
Wei Ying’s eyes widen, and she attempts to drown her embarrassment out with nervous laughter. “Ahaha…! Yes, I’m Lan er-jiejie’s best girlfriend! I’ll make a good impression on your shufu, for sure!”
Lan Zhan is evidently pleased to hear such a thing. “Good girl,” she praises, slender hands lightly cupping the nape of Wei Ying’s neck. When jiejie holds her in place just like that—Wei Ying gets chills. “I already know Wei Ying-meimei won’t let me down.”
Tilting Wei Ying’s jaw back to the front, she takes care to doll Wei Ying up into the perfect wife that she’d finally be taking home to meet her shufu. Dazzling silver eyes are mascara’d up, and pale pink lips are being smeared with their usual rouge. Wei Ying is the prettiest girl she has ever met, Lan Zhan thinks.
Lan Zhan will marry no less, in this life.
.
.
.
“Shufu, this is my Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan introduces. Lan Zhan likes Wei Ying so much, she refuses to let go of Wei Ying’s hand, even with Nie Mingjue flanking Wei Ying on the other side.
She need not say more. The words she carefully chooses says enough. She’s her uncle’s favourite niece. He knows her better than anyone else.
And when Lan Qiren tells her with an approving stroke of his beard, “Good,” she knows she has already won half the battle. Shufu approves of her girl.
Besides, the look in her shufu’s eyes already tells her all that she needs to know.
Shufu completely adores Wei Ying.
There’s history there, Lan Zhan has no doubt about it. Because shufu speaks to Wei Ying in a tone so gentle, much like the one that he only uses with his favourite niece; and he looks at Wei Ying like he’s solemnly reminiscing the ghost of a woman that is no longer there. Lan Zhan decides that she will not ask about it. Shufu is entitled to his own secrets, just as Lan Zhan is entitled to hers. But she is grateful that—whatever that he has going on, gazing at Wei Ying like that—endears him naturally towards the one girl she loves, the one who remains the brightest light in Lan Zhan’s life.
Shufu is full of praises for Wei Ying, going on and on about the numerous cheerleading trophies he has heard about, ones that Wei Ying has won for the university. He barely even pays attention to Nie Mingjue, whose overly imposing presence would otherwise normally be the centre of attention in a room. Lan Huan has to gently remind their shufu that dinner is waiting for them, before he even considers letting Wei Ying out of his sight just so they can take their seats.
Shufu’s apparent favouritism only works even better in her favour. The fonder shufu is of Wei Ying, the easier breaking Wei Ying and Nie Mingjue up will be. Because, see: shufu wants Wei Ying, too. And what better way to have Wei Ying be part of their family than to have Wei Ying marry in?
Lan Zhan probably should have been more focused on her task of actually finding a flaw in Nie Mingjue’s perfect charade, but a quick look at her brother across the dining table showed her there was nothing she needed to worry about.
For Nie Mingjue may have been a good boyfriend, but it appears he’s in the market for an even better husband.
Oh, Lan Zhan comes to a realisation. The man plays for the other field.
Her brother can be an absolute minx if he wants to. And who’s to say he doesn’t equally enjoy the attention? He easily bewitches the Nie president with his kind Gusu Lan demeanour, his mild tone, and his gentle gaze that knew better than to linger too long on those bulging biceps of the Nie president.
When Lan Huan’s and Lan Zhan’s eyes meet over the course of lunch, her brother slyly winks at her, and mouths I’ve got this covered.
Lan Huan is in the market for a handsome boyfriend of his own, too.
Wei Ying wouldn’t even see it coming. Why would she? She’s too busy soaking up all the attention that shufu and Lan Zhan is giving her over at this side of the table. Lan Zhan’s hand, by the way, still adamantly refuses to let go of her, and has their fingers locked tight together in a vice-grip, positioned right against her hard lap. She is sure shufu even notices, but he seemingly shuts an eye; when ordinarily he would have made sure to remind Lan Zhan of things like propriety, decorum and table etiquette.
Perhaps he doesn’t want Lan Zhan to let go of Wei Ying, either. So that she will not repeat the mistakes he has made in the past.
“Jiejie, you’re so clingy,” Wei Ying even teases her, mid-way through the lunch. “You’re not really my boyfriend today, you know!”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan hums away, in contentment.
At the rate things are progressing, she is well on her way there.
.
.
.
The aftermath of yet another break-up is taxing on Wei Ying, as always.
Her precious little Wei Ying, slumped over in Lan Zhan’s arms, sobbing hysterically in a beautiful, runny mess. Eyeliner and mascara streaking down her face with rosy red lips that won’t stop quivering hysterically. Wei Ying is no doubt an ugly crier, wailing and howling snottily into Lan Zhan’s chest. But in Lan Zhan’s eyes, Wei Ying’s the prettiest when she’s utterly defenceless like this, completely weak and helpless at the full mercy of whomever gets to embrace her.
Lan Zhan feels sick at the way she gets butterflies whenever Wei Ying lifts her head tearily and stares up dazedly into her eyes, begging for a single scrap of comfort from the taller woman. So pliant, so manipulable, so needy. If Lan Zhan kissed her now, Wei Ying wouldn’t even be able to resist, Wei Ying wouldn’t even make a sound of protest. If Lan Zhan ignored that one last ounce of restraint holding her back, if Lan Zhan simply gave in to the fiery ache in her chest…
Oh, would Wei Ying finally become hers, for good?
“I can’t believe he was gay!” Wei Ying cries, angrily pounding away at Lan Zhan’s chest. “Of course the one man that treats me right is gay! And of all people he left me for… it had to be your brother! How can I ever be mad at Huan-ge for that?! Lan Zhan! It’s not fair!”
It is not fair that you still believe you are destined for a man, Lan Zhan thinks. “You deserve someone better,” Lan Zhan murmurs, tenderly kissing the top of her head again, as she always does whenever Wei Ying gets into these sorts of fits. “Someone who already knows what they want, and will not have their heart swayed because of it.” Like me.
“I’m just so tired of dating all of these men, and disappointing a-yi,” Wei Ying yells in frustration. She pulls away from Lan Zhan for a moment, attempting to shift herself higher up into her Lan er-jiejie’s hold, but Lan Zhan immediately frowns upon feeling Wei Ying leave and only tightens her arms around her, unwilling to allow Wei Ying to slip from her in any way. Like she’d ever allow that. “Jiejie, there’s no one else! I’m never going to be able to date someone who satisfies her. And if I do, they don’t even like me!”
That actually has Lan Zhan go completely still in thought, and lower her gaze down onto Wei Ying. To any ordinary onlooker, the pure love and affection in her eyes would almost be nauseating to look at. And to think her sweet, innocent Wei Ying has remained completely oblivious to her affections till now…
“Jiejie likes you.”
“Ugh, I know,” Wei Ying laments, shaking her head. “But that’s not the point! I can’t marry you.”
—And that’s when the pin drops, that’s when everything comes crashing down and Lan Zhan’s fragile heart feels like it’s about to be fissured apart.
Ah, she’d been waiting for confirmation of this.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan’s voice trembles, just a bit, when she speaks. “What… are you saying?”
Was everything that she had done, from manoeuvring the unexpected dorm assignment into her favour, to getting rid of all of those men, all for naught?
Would Wei Ying loathe her for being in love with her—as a woman?
Of all reasons to be spurned by Wei Ying, this one would hit the hardest. If Wei Ying wasn’t in love with her, Lan Zhan would simply find a way to convince her. If Wei Ying wouldn’t even spare a glance at Lan Zhan because she was a girl, then…
“Hm?” Wei Ying asks quickly, suddenly baffled by the sight of all colour leaving Lan Zhan’s normally so unflinching face. Now that her tears have long dried on her cheeks, Wei Ying finds the energy to perk her head up and cutely whine out, “Aiya, jiejie, like a-yi would ever approve! Anyway, I’m so tired of thinking about marriage. Can we go do something nice today? Let’s go do our nails! Jiejie, your treat, okay?”
—And so, Lan Zhan shakily exhales with a soft, “I see.”
Her heart mends itself back together. Her determination is renewed. All faith is not lost. It appears it was not Wei Ying herself that completely abhorred the idea; it was Yu Ziyuan that was left standing in their way.
After all, Wei Ying hardly casts anyone a look if they haven’t yet been pre-approved by her aunt.
Perhaps Lan Zhan had been looking at it the wrong way entirely, from the very start.
Fate may have brought Lan Zhan and Wei Ying together, but it will be by Lan Zhan’s hands that she ensures they never remain apart.
.
.
.
“Jiejie, we’re going to be late, stop fixing my dress!”
“If we do not tape it properly, you are going to flash everyone in the room,” Lan Zhan frustratedly berates, as she fusses over Wei Ying’s chest. “Why did you have to pick this one? It is too revealing.”
Wei Ying has a penchant for skin-tight clothes that show off too much of what doesn’t need to be shared with others. Lan Zhan has always felt greatly conflicted by her choice in clothing: on the one hand, it’s always a pleasure to watch Wei Ying get dressed. The girl is impossibly shapely, of to-die-for proportions, with an exceedingly distracting voluptuous chest. On another hand, this view should be all hers. Not anyone else’s. Wei Ying is beautiful, yes, but no one else needs to know just how much. Only Lan Zhan needs to be privy to that.
“A-yi might set me up with someone else at the party again,” Wei Ying says, with a sore pout. “I have to look good! Aiya, Lan Zhan, you wouldn’t understand! You’re set for life with your brother, your time isn’t running out.”
Well, she’s partially right. It’s a different story with Lan Zhan. Her brother and uncle have always understood her nature, and never pressured her into the sort of life she knew she never wanted. She never intended to take anyone home; never ever cared for sharing her space with another.
That was, of course, before Wei Ying strutted into her life with all three inches of her red kitten heels.
Now all Lan Zhan wants is to be her boyfriend.
“Your time is not running out,” Lan Zhan hisses out, fixing the red flower in her hair. “You are not on some sort of biological clock, Wei Ying.”
“A-yi begs to differ,” Wei Ying whines again, tipping on her tippy toes to fix the high collar on Lan Zhan’s tux. She’s full of giggles as she continues to shower her Lan er-jiejie with a shower of compliments. “Waaah, jiejie, you look so good all dressed up! We should do this more often!”
Lan Zhan’s heart softens. Her Wei Ying has such a silver tongue. “Mn.” She’d slicked her own hair back today, combed it in a way that is meant to make her look smart, look sleek enough for meeting Yu Ziyuan. “I do like dressing up with Wei Ying.”
“I like doing things with jiejie, too,” Wei Ying sighs, jumping up to hug the taller woman. “I’m so glad you agreed to attend this gala event with me!”
Of course Lan Zhan was happy to accept. It was her one opportunity to stand before Yu Ziyuan, and convince her of a possible alliance between the Lans and the Jiangs.
Through marriage. With Wei Ying.
It was plain to her what conditions Yu Ziyuan had set for Wei Ying’s ideal marriage partner: they had to be of good standing, and business that the Jiangs could benefit from. Fortunately or unfortunately for her, she cared for nothing else.
And Lan Zhan had both.
If she wanted money and power, there was nothing Lan Zhan could not offer.
“Jiejie, stop spacing out! The car’s already here,” Wei Ying says, tugging hurriedly at Lan Zhan’s arm. “You know I can’t run in heels!”
“I will carry you then,” Lan Zhan says softly, running her fingers down her hair. “My sweet meimei.”
“Lan Zhaaan! Don’t you dare pick me u—aaAAH!”
After today, Lan Zhan thinks, everything between them will finally change.
.
.
.
Wei Ying is a nervous, flighty mess as she steps into the crowded ballroom, trying to ignore the curious looks of others as they wonder since when the adopted daughter of the Jiang family got herself so well-acquainted with the notoriously reclusive Lan heiress.
Plus, everyone loves a pretty face. And, well, now there’s two.
“Wow, it’s definitely been awhile,” Wei Ying jokes, smoothening down the front of her dress amidst her anxiousness. “I do not miss this part.”
“Wei Ying, there is nothing to worry about,” Lan Zhan assures, wounding her arm protectively around her waist. “I am here.”
Lan Zhan has always disliked the unnecessary attention too, but when she is next to Wei Ying, she finds that she does not mind so much. With Wei Ying around, Lan Zhan finds that she’s hardly even conscious of anyone else in the room, no. Lan Zhan has only ever had eyes for her pretty girl. Her heart has never faltered; her gaze has never wavered.
By hook or by crook, Wei Ying will become hers.
“Careful,” Lan Zhan says as they navigate the crowded room slowly, her hand resting on Wei Ying’s back. “Do not trip.”
“I’ll wear a shorter dress next time,” Wei Ying jokes, while picking up the tail of her dress with one hand.
“No,” Lan Zhan protests, squeezing the girl’s tiny waist in her grasp. She is so soft, as usual. Lan Zhan can even catch a whiff of the strawberry scent emanating from her hair, from here. “Next time, I will choose the dress.”
“Ooooh,” Wei Ying laughs. “I want to wear a dress jiejie chooses for me!”
Lan Zhan cannot resist a smile of her own. “Good.”
That smile on her face fades as quickly as it arrives when Wei Ying collides into a stranger in her haste. With Wei Ying’s tunnel vision, it takes her exactly a minute to realise who exactly she has just bumped into.
Lan Zhan already cannot stand the repulsive sight of the man—
“Wei Ying?”
—or the way he calls her name, so intimately, like he is supposed to know Wei Ying even better than she does.
Wei Ying freezes up upon hearing his voice, like it is something so instinctive and trained into her gut.
Immediately, Lan Zhan knows something is wrong.
“No, so sorry,” Wei Ying hiccups in fear, turning her head away. “I have to be somewhere else.”
Said man, with his hair tied back in a high bun and a dark purple ribbon, immediately extends his arm forward to grab at Wei Ying’s thin wrist. Dressed in a loose tux, the man’s an unshaven, frazzled mess. Lan Zhan would not be surprised if he’d even skipped a shower or two before arriving here.
“Wei Ying—”
“Hey,” Lan Zhan steps forward to pry the man’s hand off of her. “Let go.”
He barely even registers that Lan Zhan is there. “I just need to speak to you, Wei Ying, you won’t return any of my calls, mother said you’d been transferred and after that you wouldn’t even—”
“A-Cheng, I said no,” Wei Ying repeats, refusing to even cast a second look at him. Reducing her voice to just a feeble whisper, she pleadingly asks, “Can’t you just go?”
A-Cheng.
Lan Zhan’s eyes flash with a wave of recognition. So this was Jiang Wanyin, the man Yu Ziyuan had insisted on separating her from. The one history Wei Ying insists on keeping secret from Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan had never pried, of course, she wouldn’t dare; not when Wei Ying seemed so visibly hurt from a past that she only wanted to heal from.
But judging by the heartbroken look on Jiang Wanyin’s face, Lan Zhan thinks she already knows why.
Suddenly all of the furious match-making made sense.
Yu Ziyuan was not only looking for money and power; she wanted anyone else that was not her son.
This was a further complication, yes, but only to her benefit.
“Leave,” Lan Zhan repeats, louder this time, with much more malice in her tone. She is highly conscious now that she is in the presence of a competitor.
A woman that Lan Zhan vaguely remembers to be part of the Wens, dressed head to toe in red, comes running after Jiang Wanyin, pulling him hurriedly to the side. “Wanyin, people are looking.”
There is a ring on her finger. Lan Zhan glances back at Jiang Wanyin’s rugged hands, and spies a matching wedding band on his.
So, the situation is far worse than it looks.
“Jiejie, take me away,” Wei Ying whimpers out, her eyes still glued uneasily to the floor.
And whatever her sweet Wei Ying asks of her, Lan Zhan will listen.
.
.
.
Lan Zhan takes her into one of the empty powder rooms outside of the hall, and seats a visibly shaken Wei Ying down on one of the luxurious sofas available. There is no one here, but even if there were, Lan Zhan does not care. She pulls a trembling Wei Ying onto her lap, palms the back of her head, and soothes her by stroking her hair until the smaller girl loosens her nerves and begins to catch her breath again.
“You do not have to tell me anything if it hurts you,” Lan Zhan says to her, kissing her fears away. “You do not have to say anything at all.”
Lan Zhan always says everything Wei Ying needs to hear. It’s difficult for Wei Ying not to burst into tears.
“Jiejie!” Wei Ying snivels out loud, throwing her arms around Lan Zhan’s neck. “Jiejie, I’m sorry I kept it from you.”
“You do not owe me anything,” Lan Zhan tells her, with a wrenching heart. As much as she wants Wei Ying for herself, she cares for her, adores her, over anything else. “Wei Ying, your pain is jiejie’s pain. I am only worried for you.”
Wei Ying only cries harder. She doesn’t lift her head up from where it’s buried against Lan Zhan’s buxom, and only continues to speak in a muffled voice. “You can ask me anything you want. I’ll answer.”
It is her chance to know everything about the girl she loves most, to dig deeper and unravel all the secrets she must have kept filed far away from Lan Zhan all this while.
But Lan Zhan finds that she does not care to find anything out, no.
Lan Zhan finds that she does not care to find out about anything that might hurt Wei Ying, again.
Instead, all she does is kiss her gently on the forehead again, and ask her in the gentlest of tones, “Just tell me if he hurt you.” Because she would be forced to take action, if he did.
Wei Ying hiccups through her tears, but she ultimately answers, “No. He didn’t. But I…”
Lan Zhan can already hear the rest of it. And she is beyond relieved to know of it. “You did not feel the same.”
“Regardless,” Wei Ying rubs at her eyes, smudging what’s left of her eyeliner. “A-yi was not pleased to find out about it.”
“She should not have forced all of those men onto you,” Lan Zhan says, with the disapproving twitch of her brow. “You should not have been subject to that.”
“Even if it didn’t happen,” Wei Ying whispers. “She would have done it soon, anyway. I am already of marriageable age…”
“Hm,” Lan Zhan answers, falling deep in thought. Rather quietly, she finally manages to bring herself to utter, “I cannot say I am completely opposed to her decision to transfer you to Gusu to study, however…”
Because it is how I met you.
Lan Zhan cannot bring herself to lie, even if it is difficult for Wei Ying to hear.
But Wei Ying only hugs Lan Zhan tighter. “Jiejie, I’m so happy I met you, too!”
Oh, her sweet, sweet Wei Ying. She will always be the cause of this permanent ache in her chest, the source of all trouble.
How could Lan Zhan ever let her go?
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan calls so affectionately, her hands coiling mindlessly into Wei Ying’s hair. I am not the noble lady you think I am, she thinks, wanting so badly to kiss her into oblivion. And Lan Zhan decides she cannot bear to wait; Yu Ziyuan is still somewhere out there in this party and waiting to be spoken to, yes, but should Lan Zhan really raise the matter of marriage up with her without even making Wei Ying aware of her feelings for her, first?
Should Lan Zhan not honour Wei Ying with the same kind of honesty that Wei Ying is honouring her with, now?
She lets out a soft sigh, and decides it is now or never. Wei Ying deserves to know, before Yu Ziyuan does. “Meimei, jiejie… has not come here today with the noblest of intentions.”
Wei Yings breath slows at the abrupt change in her jiejie’s tone. “Hmmm?”
“I am here to meet Yu Ziyuan,” Lan Zhan says, her heart pounding loudly in her ears. “I want your hand in marriage.”
Wei Ying blinks, the tears from before quickly drying up. She goes so quiet, Lan Zhan’s arms are preemptively tensing around her incase she tries to pull away.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan calls again, like she is so frightened Wei Ying will say no. “Wei Ying, I am serious about you.”
Wei Ying only raises her head back up then and there, fluttering her tear-filled eyes up dreamily in a haze. The pink eyeshadow on her wet eyelids suits her so much, making her look like a princess.
A dream. Wei Ying always looks like a dream. Lan Zhan can only cup the side of her face, and do everything within her power not to kiss her.
“Jiejie, you would do that for me? Ask a-yi for my hand in marriage?” Wei Ying asks of her, complete disbelief in her voice. “You… like me that much?”
Lan Zhan could not convey the depths of her love if she tried. If she loved Wei Ying any less, perhaps she would be able to talk about it more. All the extreme things that she had done, the lengths she had gone to. She can only fear that Wei Ying would never understand.
“I love you so much,” Lan Zhan whispers to her, with hands that are slightly shaking from the magnitude of her confession. “I cannot help but feel that you were always meant to be mine, right from the start. And I—” her breaths stutter. Selfish, she is selfish, and if this is the way Wei Ying is to be alerted to her desires, the extent of her depravity, her very wish to monopolise Wei Ying all for herself, then so be it. “I would not be able to accept no for an answer.”
The light in Wei Ying’s eyes never goes away. Lan Zhan thinks she even sees the hint of a surreptitious smile on her lips, not a single tear in sight. “How very bold of you to say, jiejie.”
Lan Zhan’s… not so sure how to take this. She catches Wei Ying’s small wrists, and refuses to let her go. “Wei Ying, how do you feel about it?”
About me?
“Marrying jiejie?” Wei Ying sings, allowing her wrists to be caught without a single noise of protest. She begins to lower her head, so slowly, so calculatedly, like everything has been leading up to this very moment, where her rosy red lips are merely inches away from Lan Zhan’s shuddering ones. Lan Zhan cannot bring herself to look away, and has the strangest feeling that the predator has become the prey. Wei Ying may be locked tight in her arms, but—why does it seem like it was her who’d carved her own place out next to Lan Zhan in the first place?
“You know, jiejie, I’m inclined to think it was fate.”
.
.
.
There is no such thing as fate.
Getting assigned to room 901 may have been an administrative mistake, but securing her place permanently in Lan Zhan’s bed was not.
Her relationship with the Jiangs was already rocky, and there was no place left for her in the family. Getting transferred to study in Gusu was her last chance at remaining in high society, and she knew that better than everyone else.
Although, for what fate was worth, she had not been expecting to be accidentally assigned to room with the gorgeous Lan Wangji—the infamous Lan heiress-to-be who refused to make an appearance at any party. And Wei Ying attended every party. She had long lists of names memorised at the back of her head, as a result of the sort of batshit insane training Madam Yu instilled upon them as children. She knew every person in high society. She knew everyone’s nieces and nephews, everyone’s godfathers and godmothers. And so it took no work at all to recognise who Lan Zhan was upon entering the administrative office to get her room card sorted, although it did take some effort on her part to feign ignorance and pretend like she hadn’t even noticed that Lan Zhan was there.
Lan Wangji, Lan Zhan, her perfect Lan er-jiejie, so beautiful with her dark short locks of hair and unwavering golden eyes. They refused to pull away from her the minute she’d walked through the doors; her attraction to her so obvious, so painfully transparent, so much so that it almost made Wei Ying shy.
Wei Ying wanted that Gusu Lan ring on her finger even before Lan Zhan even thought to grab those luggages away from her.
“What’s your name?” she’d asked, as if she wasn’t already envisioning a life in which she was trophy wife to Lan Wangji-jiejie. She had long tired of all these men Madam Yu sent her away, and longed for a place next to those golden eyes.
“Lan Zhan,” Lan Zhan had told her, with hazy eyes and a mind—that already looked so far gone.
Their fingers brush against each other. It is intentional. Wei Ying employs every rule in the book, bringing out the shrilly, flirtatious laughter and the accidental grazes of their soft, bare skin. It’s almost like they are maidens, flirting back in the eighteenth century. It’s cute. Lan Zhan never blushes, but she parts her lips in a breathless little gasp whenever Wei Ying does something that excites her. And everything Wei Ying does is exciting to her.
Every small thing that Wei Ying does, it completely enthrals her.
Lan Zhan is easy to please. Lan Zhan is easy to say sweet things to, and have wrapped around her finger. Lan Zhan likes her so much, and Wei Ying likes her just as much. In an ideal world, things needn’t be so complicated. Wei Ying would follow her right into bed, and she’d let Lan Zhan take the lead, in whichever way pleased her the most. She would follow her Lan er-jiejie anywhere. She’s perfect, through and through.
But they live in a world with rules, and Wei Ying’s already on thin-ice with the Jiangs. She has an ugly-rich boyfriend whom she despises, and another one lined up for her if this one falls through. That’s simply the way high society works. And it’s the way that she is to be punished, for the sins of her step-brother.
Lan Zhan protects her. She always knew she would. She lets Lan Zhan track her phone, and doesn’t insist on getting another bed of her own beyond the first week. She already knows Lan Zhan won’t let her. See, that’s the thing, Lan Zhan, with all of her carnal desires, surprises her. Wei Ying has heard a thing or two about how fiercely the Gusu Lans love, but she certainly wasn’t prepared for the ferocity of it. And still, when it happens—she simply lets it.
Why wouldn’t she? The universe divined this for her.
She’s not stupid, she knows about the extra room card behind the potted plant, and she knows about the way Lan Zhan unlocks her phone when she’s not looking to check up on her texts with Jin Zixun. But she lets Lan Zhan take whatever she needs to destroy every single one of her unwanted marriage partners, knowing she is not in a position to do such a thing.
It’s cute, the way Lan Zhan seeks to make Wei Ying hers. It’s possessive, and it’s endearing, and it’s insanely romantic. Everything Lan Zhan does; it delights her, it fascinates her to the bones.
Lan Zhan is the most interesting person she has ever met.
Although, there are times when her jiejie could have been bolder. Particularly when daylight breaks, and Lan Zhan wakes before she does. She always kisses her on the forehead, and caresses her hair like a lover. Wei Ying always waits for Lan Zhan to do more, she waits for those fingers to fall and fondle places typically forbidden to her. But Lan Zhan loves Wei Ying so much, it seems like she never allows herself to indulge in such a thing. She may crave exclusivity with Wei Ying, so much so that she’d willingly shut the rest of the world out from her, but she’d never dare cross a line; even within their most private moments, even with no one in sight.
Lan er-jiejie can be so incredibly shy.
It is of no matter. Whatever risque, deplorable acts of fiery passion can wait. When Wei Ying gets that ring on her finger, she’ll let Lan Zhan do whatever she wants with her.
Her pretty and sweet jiejie, stealing her away from the rest of the world.
Do you know I can only be stolen because I let you? Wei Ying wants to say, in all the moments that Lan Zhan thinks Wei Ying is not watching—and her golden eyes are, once again, unyielding, unmoving, completely fixated on her. Silly Lan er-jiejie, you’re so cute.
But marriage is not that simple in their world. It is not a union of two individuals, as it ordinarily would be; it is a union of two powerful families. Where Lan Zhan has failed to consider the matter of Yu Ziyuan, Wei Ying easily nudges her into such a direction.
“Aiya, jiejie, like a-yi would ever approve!”
She plants the thought in Lan Zhan’s head, and knows whatever that will become of them now will lie in Lan Zhan’s hands. Because that’s just the way it is between them. Wei Ying leaves her hints, and Lan Zhan makes her hers.
That’s how they get to places.
That’s how they’ll get their happy ending.
.
.
.
Yu Ziyuan’s demeanour noticeably softens when Lan Zhan approaches her during the party, even with Wei Ying in tow. It seems she has heard plenty about the Lan heiress even before speaking with her in person, and has formed her own impressions about her.
Lan Zhan politely introduces herself and makes her a proposal she can’t refuse, all the while Wei Ying hangs off her arm beautifully—like she’s too happy to play up the role she is to soon assume.
“You wish to marry our A-Ying,” Yu Ziyuan repeats incredulously, with a rare fondness in her voice meant for Wei Ying that—surprises even the girl, herself. “You do realise what you are asking for?”
“I am well-aware of what I am asking for,” Lan Zhan firmly answers, clasping her hand gently over Wei Ying’s one. “And I am certain of my decision, more than anything else. If Madam Yu is so kind to give me your blessing.”
“Wei Ying,” Yu Ziyuan calls, turning to the girl she has raised, this time. Wei Ying is struck by the lack of disapproval on her face; instead, she’s met with wide eyes that are full of hesitation and worry. “Is this really what you want? I know the dates have been hard on you lately. We can stop them, if it’s too much.”
Wei Ying’s heart squeezes at what she hears, even if she never lets the smile slip from her face. “A-yi! I’m not doing this just because I want the dates to stop. I really love Lan Zhan! I want to be with her, more than anything else! Won’t you grant me this, and finally let me be happy?”
That appears to be all the assurance that Yu Ziyuan needs.
“The both of you look happy together,” she admittedly says, nodding her head. “And that’s all I can hope for. Pray tell, how did the two of you get together?”
“Oh, it’s a long story, a-yi,” Wei Ying tells her, with a grin. Lan Zhan is holding onto her so desperately yet again, like if she even dared to pull away Lan Zhan would break. Just how hard had Lan Zhan fallen in love with her, and just how beautiful does she look with all that yearning in her eyes? Wei Ying repeats again, just like before, “But I’m inclined to think it was fate.”
And let her tell you just how hard she worked for that fate.