Chapter Text
“—fter the arrest of Jin Guangshan. The CEO of Jin Enterprises is facing charges that could net him as many as four life sentences, should the prosecution pursue maximum penalties.”
Wei Ying, curled comfortably into Lan Zhan’s side on his couch, snorts. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer asshole,” he says.
“Shh,” Lan Zhan says, amused. “I am listening.”
“We know all this stuff already!”
“Hearing the public version is important,” Lan Zhan insists. He lays a finger against Wei Ying’s lips to quiet him when he opens his mouth to complain further about being made to watch the news, which distracts him thoroughly enough that Lan Zhan is able to tune back in.
The anchor is saying, “—thanks to the evidence of Jin Guangyao, the recently-recognized son of Jin Guangshan. Whether he will be reinstated to his position in the company is still up in the air, as he was heavily involved with his father’s operations. However, Jin Zixuan, the heir to the company and incoming CEO has stated publicly that he does not blame his half-brother for giving in to pressure from their father, who he calls ‘a commanding presence’ and ‘difficult to refuse’.
“Jin Enterprises has also released a statement that they intend to continue supporting Masked operations within Lanling District, but will be reducing their team to a size more comparable to those which protect the other districts. They say, quote, that such a force is unnecessary given that Wen Ruohan’s influence has been totally eradicated, and they do not intend to expand operations into other parts of the city. It is believed that this is in response to recent Masked conflict in Yiling District, which neighbours Lanling. The Jins were signatories on the controversial new agreement of the Mask teams to cede protection of Yiling District to the Yiling Patriarch and the small team of independent and new Masks that have come under his banner in recent weeks, since the incident at Koi Tower.”
A quotation appears on screen, and the anchor clears her throat. “My colleagues on the ground in Yiling have collected a number of impressions from residents, including this one from a senior resident. She said, ‘No one else in this city cares for Yiling except the Patriarch. We’re glad to be under his protection.’ Others have been less favourable, but police have reported that crime in the District has decreased. Whether this move by the Masked community will prove to be to the benefit of the city as a whole is yet to be seen, but no Masks have been injured or killed in the District in several weeks, and the Patriarch and his associates have taken over patrols peacefully.”
Onscreen, the anchor reappears, shuffling papers, then says, “Now, onto other news—“
Lan Zhan flicks off the TV and sighs, almost in unison with Wei Ying. “That seems favourable enough,” he says.
“As long as they leave us the hell alone,” Wei Ying says, turning to tuck his face against Lan Zhan’s shoulder. He sighs again, heavy. “Do you think Jin Guangyao’s going to weasel out of it all?”
Lan Zhan shrugs gently, trying not to dislodge his… partner, now, perhaps. It’s been five weeks since the mess at Koi Tower, and Lan Zhan had given up on being sensible and moved in with Wei Ying three weeks ago. Wei Ying’s apartment is just big enough for both of them plus A-Yuan, and Lan Zhan has no objections to commuting to Gusu when needed; he works from home most days anyway. His plot in the community garden, which he and A-Yuan tend together regularly, is flourishing.
“Yeah,” Wei Ying says, sounding vaguely defeated. “I hope that damn peacock has some sense.”
“He does,” Lan Zhan says. “Jin Zixuan is personally forgiving, but I believe he will not let anything compromise Jin Enterprises. Even his half-brother.”
“And what about your brother?” Wei Ying asks. He sits up, crossing his legs as he turns to face Lan Zhan.
“He will be fine,” Lan Zhan says, hoping he’s telling the truth. “It is difficult to be betrayed in such a way by a friend, but Nie Mingjue is supporting him.”
“Yeah, of course.” Wei Ying considers for a minute, then rearranges himself again, this time to lie with his head in Lan Zhan’s lap. Lan Zhan obeys the tacit command and begins stroking Wei Ying’s hair, which elicits a third sigh, this one much more content. “So we’ll all live happily ever after, huh?”
“Mn.” Lan Zhan smirks a little. “Except Jin Guangshan.”
“Except Jin Guangshan!” Wei Ying replies. “… Until the next time, anyway.”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan repeats, affirmative. “We will face any threat that may arise side-by-side.”
“Yes.”
“Love you, Wei Ying.”
“Love you too, Lan Zhan.”
—
A photo in a newpaper: two figures, sitting side-by-side on the edge of a rooftop, illuminated by the edges of a streetlight’s glow. One is broad and dressed all in white, an imposing figure with a flowing band of white cloth wrapped over his eyes: the Masked hero Hanguang-jun. His counterpart is in black except a ribbon of red that holds his hair back, an ill-defined shadow that fades into the nighttime backdrop of the image: the defender of Yiling District, the Yiling Patriarch. Their faces are turned towards each other. Both are smiling.