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Write Me a Way (But Don’t Write Me Off) [Chapter 1]
Title: Write Me a Way (But Don’t Write Me Off)
Fandom: The Untamed | Modao Zushi
Pairing/Characters: Jiang Cheng / Lan Huan, Jiang Cheng & Wei Ying, Lan Huan & Lan Zhan, background Wei Ying / Lan Zhan
Rating: NR (probably T?)
Warnings: idiots in love
Word Count: 1,846 words, 1 / 5 (Chapter Directory)
Summary: Modern college AU, set ~somewhere???~. Lan Huan slowly finds himself falling for Jiang Cheng, who is (maybe) related to Wei Ying, who is (definitely) dating Lan Zhan, and none of them are (probably) in the mob.
The story starts like this. Lan Huan needs to go out into nature to find inspiration for his nature poetry course. Lan Huan plans to just go into his backyard, where he and his uncle have already laid the groundwork for an impressive garden in their new home, but his baby brother's new boyfriend, Wei Ying, a local, joyfully offered to show Lan Huan and Lan Zhan around the extensive wildlife park nearby. Lan Zhan agreed before Lan Huan could gently decline, and so they're fifty kilometers from civilisation when Wei Ying brings out the beer and Lan Zhan is knocked out from a single sip. They're also fifty kilometers from civilisation when Wei Ying realises that there will be no more buses into the park that day, and none of the ridesharing apps will accept his credit card.
Wei Ying is supposed to be from this area! How does he not know that the bus service into the park ends early on Mondays!
Wei Ying frowns thoughtfully. "Come on, Huan-ge! Lan Zhan looks totally normal! Are you sure your uncle will notice?"
Lan Zhan chooses this moment to rouse enough to say, "The roosters are needed," in a very decisive tone.
"... By which I mean, would it be that bad if Teacher Lan found out about this? It was just one beer!"
Lan Huan looks down at his brother's face, with his flushed cheeks and dazed eyes. "... Yes," he says. "That would not be… ideal."
Uncle would compost him into organic fertiliser. Lan Huan hopes that Uncle would be kind enough to feed his remains to his favourite plant in their backyard garden, a lovely star jasmine tree, but he suspects that Uncle would feed him to the chives instead, purely out of spite. Lan Huan hates chives in his food—so pungent!—and it's not like the awful little weeds need the added nutrients, anyway. Not like his sweet jasmine.
But their options are limited. Uncle will be nearly as irate to find them out after curfew as drinking alcohol if they try to wait it out for Lan Zhan to sober up, and who knows how long that could take? And with the bus service, no car, no cash, and the one credit card between them—Wei Ying's—denied, they might not make the walk to the nearest train station before curfew, anyway. Calling Uncle and bearing his fury might be the only way out of this.
And then Wei Ying sighs. It is not a pleased sigh—instead, it's a sigh of resignation, the kind of noise a chess master gives before knocking over their king at a world championship match. "I promised myself I would never do this," says Wei Ying, his voice distant. "I told myself, even if I starve, even if I'm homeless, even if I've been attacked by illegal organ traders and left to bleed out in the street—"
What? Lan Huan stares at Wei Ying, his mouth hanging open uselessly.
"—Even then, I wouldn't fall to this low." Wei Ying's eyes harden, and he straightens his shoulders. "But it seems we're left with no alternative."
"Wei Ying," says Lan Huan hesitantly. "Uncle will probably just ground us." Into mulch, he doesn't say. "So there's no reason to do anything too extreme." Like demonic cultivation, or murder for hire, or whatever is so terrible that Wei "Grand Theft Auto is Practically a Misdemeanour" Ying has sworn off it.
"And go, what, weeks? Months? Years without seeing my precious Lan Zhan. No, Huan-ge—I have to do this. For love!"
Lan Zhan would probably find this romantic. Lan Huan probably should, too, but instead he can't help thinking that Wei Ying is a total idiot.
"Wei Ying," he tries again, but Wei Ying has already found his phone and dialed.
"What," says the voice on the other line, clearly audible through the speaker on Wei Ying's phone. Lan Huan makes a note to never tell Wei Ying anything over the phone that he isn't comfortable with everyone in a 100-metre radius of Wei Ying also hearing.
"You're probably wondering why I'm calling," says Wei Ying, laughing nervously.
"You're in jail, and you need to be bailed out," says the voice. It's a very no-nonsense sort of voice, gruff even through the tinny speakers, in a way that reminds Lan Huan strangely of Uncle. Lan Huan sends a silent apology to Uncle, who would spit up blood at being compared to the leader of an assassin gang of organ traders.
"What? No! Why would you jump to that?" asks Wei Ying, sounding honestly offended.
"Why wouldn't I jump to that? What, then? Are you holding up the line at the grocery store because you forgot you cancelled your old credit card and got a new one for the $100 sign-up bonus?"
Wei Ying's mouth opens and closes a few times. "... Closer," says Wei Ying, sounding sheepish. "We're actually trapped in the wildlife park. The bus—"
"Doesn't run after 4 PM on Mondays. Yes, Wei Ying, I did not move here yesterday."
"It was an honest mistake!" wails Wei Ying. Lan Huan winces, and hopes for the sake of the Organ Assassin Mob Leader's eardrum that he doesn't have his volume turned up as high as Wei Ying does. "I just wanted to show Lan Zhan and his brother a good time!"
"Whatever. Head to the main parking lot by the tourist shop, and I'll pick you up in 15 minutes."
"15 minutes? That's fast!"
"I'm in the area."
The phone call ends with a decisive beep, and Wei Ying breaths out slowly in relief. "That went better than I expected. Do you think he's forgotten about me gluing confetti to his hair last week?"
Lan Huan stares. "Are you sure walking isn't an option?" he asks.
Wei Ying laughs at him like he's joking, and Lan Huan spends the next 13 minutes growing more and more anxious about his and his baby brother's—and Wei Ying's, he supposes—impending violent death and organ extraction while Wei Ying chatters cheerfully, all his earlier concern evaporated into the ether.
They have carried Lan Zhan to what Wei Ying assures them is the designated meeting place and are still trying to balance him against the wall of the gift shop when a car pulls up on the curb.
"Jiang Cheng," calls Wei Ying, waving his arms to draw the driver's attention. This seems a little unnecessary given that the area is deserted other than them, but Lan Huan gamely tries a small wave.
The man who exits the car seems a little young to be in such a prestigious position in his mob, but Lan Huan guesses the promotion track must look a little different on that side of the law. He's also unbelievably beautiful, but Lan Huan dutifully tries not to notice that part. Organ theft isn't attractive, he reminds himself.
"What's wrong with him?" asks "Jiang Cheng" as he approaches, nodding at Lan Zhan, who is drooling slightly into Lan Huan's shoulder. His face doesn't change expression at all when he tosses something at Wei Ying, who shrieks as it explodes all over him. Lan Huan flinches reflexively, but it seems to be some sort of home-made glitter bomb, with—Lan Huan squints slightly—ah. Confetti.
"We don't do well with alcohol," says Lan Huan, eying the wreckage of Wei Ying's hiking clothes nervously. "You only brought one of those, right?"
Jiang Cheng smirks at him and doesn't answer. "Let's get Mr Doesn't Do Well with Alcohol buckled into the back seat, then."
"I hope you know that this," Wei Ying gestures down at himself, "is all ending up all over your car's interior now."
"I put on seat covers," says Jiang Cheng unconcernedly, and this must be the true power of a young mob boss—being prepared for any eventuality, even Wei Ying.
Lan Huan joins Lan Zhan in the back seat, and Wei Ying sits in the front and babbles about their hike. Jiang Cheng is mostly silent beyond requesting directions from Lan Huan as he drives, but he gives no indication that he's bothered by the onslaught of noise.
"And what were you even doing in the area, Jiang Cheng?" asks Wei Ying, finally winding down.
"I was working on a project for my nature poetry class," said Jiang Cheng shortly.
"Nature poetry?" asks Lan Huan, perking up. "With Professor Shen? At 8 AM?"
Jiang Cheng's eyes flicker over to him in the rear view mirror, and Lan Huan flushes, cursing himself for drawing attention to himself. Why would a mob boss be in a nature poetry class at the local university? It's probably a cover for some other nefarious activity.
But Jiang Cheng only says, "I'm in the 2:15 session, but yeah."
"Oh! What a coincidence! What type are you choosing? I'm planning to write yuefu."
"Jintishi."
Lan Huan can't help but brighten. "How lovely," he says, beaming. "Do you think we could go over one another's work before we turn it in? And maybe we could study together?" He flushes again, realising he's being presumptuous. Jiang Cheng probably has other things to keep him busy—organs to collect, etc. "Sorry," he adds, "I don't really know anyone else in the class."
Jiang Cheng's eyebrows have shot up. He glances at Wei Ying, who is watching with uncharacteristic stillness, before he looks back at Lan Huan again in the mirror. "Fine with me," he says mildly. "You can get my number from Wei Ying. Left up here, is that right?"
Lan Huan blinks and realises that they're already almost home. "Yes, and then another left. Then we're three houses in on the right."
Jiang Cheng pulls up at their house smoothly and helps Lan Huan and Wei Ying maneuver Lan Zhan inside and into bed.
"Thank you so much for your help," says Lan Huan. "Would you like something to drink? Or eat?"
Wei Ying isn't so far out of Lan Huan's range of sight that he can't see Wei Ying making an X with his arms and shaking his head wildly, which Lan Huan finds slightly offensive. Their food isn't that bland, thank you.
Jiang Cheng's lips twitch into a smile, and Lan Huan tries not to melt. He really is just so pretty. "No, not today. I wouldn't want to subject you to any more glitter shedding than you've already suffered."
They both look at Wei Ying, who scowls. "And whose fault is that, Jiang Cheng?"
"Yours," says Jiang Cheng firmly. "All yours. Come on, you need to shower before family dinner."
Family dinner? Wait…
"That's tonight?" Wei Ying groans into his hands. "Your mom is going to kill me."
"If only," mutters Jiang Cheng, but he's grinning.
Lan Huan shows the two out, and they turn to wave as they make their way down the drive, still bickering.
So Wei Ying is related to Jiang Cheng? So that means…
Wei Ying is in the mob?!
Fandom: The Untamed | Modao Zushi
Pairing/Characters: Jiang Cheng / Lan Huan, Jiang Cheng & Wei Ying, Lan Huan & Lan Zhan, background Wei Ying / Lan Zhan
Rating: NR (probably T?)
Warnings: idiots in love
Word Count: 1,846 words, 1 / 5 (Chapter Directory)
Summary: Modern college AU, set ~somewhere???~. Lan Huan slowly finds himself falling for Jiang Cheng, who is (maybe) related to Wei Ying, who is (definitely) dating Lan Zhan, and none of them are (probably) in the mob.
The story starts like this. Lan Huan needs to go out into nature to find inspiration for his nature poetry course. Lan Huan plans to just go into his backyard, where he and his uncle have already laid the groundwork for an impressive garden in their new home, but his baby brother's new boyfriend, Wei Ying, a local, joyfully offered to show Lan Huan and Lan Zhan around the extensive wildlife park nearby. Lan Zhan agreed before Lan Huan could gently decline, and so they're fifty kilometers from civilisation when Wei Ying brings out the beer and Lan Zhan is knocked out from a single sip. They're also fifty kilometers from civilisation when Wei Ying realises that there will be no more buses into the park that day, and none of the ridesharing apps will accept his credit card.
Wei Ying is supposed to be from this area! How does he not know that the bus service into the park ends early on Mondays!
Wei Ying frowns thoughtfully. "Come on, Huan-ge! Lan Zhan looks totally normal! Are you sure your uncle will notice?"
Lan Zhan chooses this moment to rouse enough to say, "The roosters are needed," in a very decisive tone.
"... By which I mean, would it be that bad if Teacher Lan found out about this? It was just one beer!"
Lan Huan looks down at his brother's face, with his flushed cheeks and dazed eyes. "... Yes," he says. "That would not be… ideal."
Uncle would compost him into organic fertiliser. Lan Huan hopes that Uncle would be kind enough to feed his remains to his favourite plant in their backyard garden, a lovely star jasmine tree, but he suspects that Uncle would feed him to the chives instead, purely out of spite. Lan Huan hates chives in his food—so pungent!—and it's not like the awful little weeds need the added nutrients, anyway. Not like his sweet jasmine.
But their options are limited. Uncle will be nearly as irate to find them out after curfew as drinking alcohol if they try to wait it out for Lan Zhan to sober up, and who knows how long that could take? And with the bus service, no car, no cash, and the one credit card between them—Wei Ying's—denied, they might not make the walk to the nearest train station before curfew, anyway. Calling Uncle and bearing his fury might be the only way out of this.
And then Wei Ying sighs. It is not a pleased sigh—instead, it's a sigh of resignation, the kind of noise a chess master gives before knocking over their king at a world championship match. "I promised myself I would never do this," says Wei Ying, his voice distant. "I told myself, even if I starve, even if I'm homeless, even if I've been attacked by illegal organ traders and left to bleed out in the street—"
What? Lan Huan stares at Wei Ying, his mouth hanging open uselessly.
"—Even then, I wouldn't fall to this low." Wei Ying's eyes harden, and he straightens his shoulders. "But it seems we're left with no alternative."
"Wei Ying," says Lan Huan hesitantly. "Uncle will probably just ground us." Into mulch, he doesn't say. "So there's no reason to do anything too extreme." Like demonic cultivation, or murder for hire, or whatever is so terrible that Wei "Grand Theft Auto is Practically a Misdemeanour" Ying has sworn off it.
"And go, what, weeks? Months? Years without seeing my precious Lan Zhan. No, Huan-ge—I have to do this. For love!"
Lan Zhan would probably find this romantic. Lan Huan probably should, too, but instead he can't help thinking that Wei Ying is a total idiot.
"Wei Ying," he tries again, but Wei Ying has already found his phone and dialed.
"What," says the voice on the other line, clearly audible through the speaker on Wei Ying's phone. Lan Huan makes a note to never tell Wei Ying anything over the phone that he isn't comfortable with everyone in a 100-metre radius of Wei Ying also hearing.
"You're probably wondering why I'm calling," says Wei Ying, laughing nervously.
"You're in jail, and you need to be bailed out," says the voice. It's a very no-nonsense sort of voice, gruff even through the tinny speakers, in a way that reminds Lan Huan strangely of Uncle. Lan Huan sends a silent apology to Uncle, who would spit up blood at being compared to the leader of an assassin gang of organ traders.
"What? No! Why would you jump to that?" asks Wei Ying, sounding honestly offended.
"Why wouldn't I jump to that? What, then? Are you holding up the line at the grocery store because you forgot you cancelled your old credit card and got a new one for the $100 sign-up bonus?"
Wei Ying's mouth opens and closes a few times. "... Closer," says Wei Ying, sounding sheepish. "We're actually trapped in the wildlife park. The bus—"
"Doesn't run after 4 PM on Mondays. Yes, Wei Ying, I did not move here yesterday."
"It was an honest mistake!" wails Wei Ying. Lan Huan winces, and hopes for the sake of the Organ Assassin Mob Leader's eardrum that he doesn't have his volume turned up as high as Wei Ying does. "I just wanted to show Lan Zhan and his brother a good time!"
"Whatever. Head to the main parking lot by the tourist shop, and I'll pick you up in 15 minutes."
"15 minutes? That's fast!"
"I'm in the area."
The phone call ends with a decisive beep, and Wei Ying breaths out slowly in relief. "That went better than I expected. Do you think he's forgotten about me gluing confetti to his hair last week?"
Lan Huan stares. "Are you sure walking isn't an option?" he asks.
Wei Ying laughs at him like he's joking, and Lan Huan spends the next 13 minutes growing more and more anxious about his and his baby brother's—and Wei Ying's, he supposes—impending violent death and organ extraction while Wei Ying chatters cheerfully, all his earlier concern evaporated into the ether.
They have carried Lan Zhan to what Wei Ying assures them is the designated meeting place and are still trying to balance him against the wall of the gift shop when a car pulls up on the curb.
"Jiang Cheng," calls Wei Ying, waving his arms to draw the driver's attention. This seems a little unnecessary given that the area is deserted other than them, but Lan Huan gamely tries a small wave.
The man who exits the car seems a little young to be in such a prestigious position in his mob, but Lan Huan guesses the promotion track must look a little different on that side of the law. He's also unbelievably beautiful, but Lan Huan dutifully tries not to notice that part. Organ theft isn't attractive, he reminds himself.
"What's wrong with him?" asks "Jiang Cheng" as he approaches, nodding at Lan Zhan, who is drooling slightly into Lan Huan's shoulder. His face doesn't change expression at all when he tosses something at Wei Ying, who shrieks as it explodes all over him. Lan Huan flinches reflexively, but it seems to be some sort of home-made glitter bomb, with—Lan Huan squints slightly—ah. Confetti.
"We don't do well with alcohol," says Lan Huan, eying the wreckage of Wei Ying's hiking clothes nervously. "You only brought one of those, right?"
Jiang Cheng smirks at him and doesn't answer. "Let's get Mr Doesn't Do Well with Alcohol buckled into the back seat, then."
"I hope you know that this," Wei Ying gestures down at himself, "is all ending up all over your car's interior now."
"I put on seat covers," says Jiang Cheng unconcernedly, and this must be the true power of a young mob boss—being prepared for any eventuality, even Wei Ying.
Lan Huan joins Lan Zhan in the back seat, and Wei Ying sits in the front and babbles about their hike. Jiang Cheng is mostly silent beyond requesting directions from Lan Huan as he drives, but he gives no indication that he's bothered by the onslaught of noise.
"And what were you even doing in the area, Jiang Cheng?" asks Wei Ying, finally winding down.
"I was working on a project for my nature poetry class," said Jiang Cheng shortly.
"Nature poetry?" asks Lan Huan, perking up. "With Professor Shen? At 8 AM?"
Jiang Cheng's eyes flicker over to him in the rear view mirror, and Lan Huan flushes, cursing himself for drawing attention to himself. Why would a mob boss be in a nature poetry class at the local university? It's probably a cover for some other nefarious activity.
But Jiang Cheng only says, "I'm in the 2:15 session, but yeah."
"Oh! What a coincidence! What type are you choosing? I'm planning to write yuefu."
"Jintishi."
Lan Huan can't help but brighten. "How lovely," he says, beaming. "Do you think we could go over one another's work before we turn it in? And maybe we could study together?" He flushes again, realising he's being presumptuous. Jiang Cheng probably has other things to keep him busy—organs to collect, etc. "Sorry," he adds, "I don't really know anyone else in the class."
Jiang Cheng's eyebrows have shot up. He glances at Wei Ying, who is watching with uncharacteristic stillness, before he looks back at Lan Huan again in the mirror. "Fine with me," he says mildly. "You can get my number from Wei Ying. Left up here, is that right?"
Lan Huan blinks and realises that they're already almost home. "Yes, and then another left. Then we're three houses in on the right."
Jiang Cheng pulls up at their house smoothly and helps Lan Huan and Wei Ying maneuver Lan Zhan inside and into bed.
"Thank you so much for your help," says Lan Huan. "Would you like something to drink? Or eat?"
Wei Ying isn't so far out of Lan Huan's range of sight that he can't see Wei Ying making an X with his arms and shaking his head wildly, which Lan Huan finds slightly offensive. Their food isn't that bland, thank you.
Jiang Cheng's lips twitch into a smile, and Lan Huan tries not to melt. He really is just so pretty. "No, not today. I wouldn't want to subject you to any more glitter shedding than you've already suffered."
They both look at Wei Ying, who scowls. "And whose fault is that, Jiang Cheng?"
"Yours," says Jiang Cheng firmly. "All yours. Come on, you need to shower before family dinner."
Family dinner? Wait…
"That's tonight?" Wei Ying groans into his hands. "Your mom is going to kill me."
"If only," mutters Jiang Cheng, but he's grinning.
Lan Huan shows the two out, and they turn to wave as they make their way down the drive, still bickering.
So Wei Ying is related to Jiang Cheng? So that means…
Wei Ying is in the mob?!