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“They’re fucking, right? They’re totally fucking.”
“Right? They have to be. The way he looks at her.”
Lan Zhan digs his fingernails into the meaty part of his palm and tries to ignore the whispered conversation next to him. From the wings of the stage he watches Wei Ying and Wen Qing rehearse their contemporary duet.
And pretends he doesn’t see it, too.
In dance, Wei Ying is a marvel. All easy lines and fluid motion. Each movement looks unscripted, almost surprising. But Lan Zhan knows the hours Wei Ying spends in the studio to ensure his technique is exactly right.
Wen Qing is just as good; Wei Ying’s match in every way. She’s small, which allows almost effortless split lifts and traveling baskets. This routine, where two lovers are trying to find their way back together, will have audiences on their feet.
The pair does a well-choreographed roll across the floor and Lan Zhan wants.
“Well, if they’re not, they should be.”
The dancers standing beside him dissolve into quiet giggles as Lan Zhan forces himself to watch Wei Ying, who looks at Wen Qing like she is the answer to every question he’s ever asked.
They met as children, at Cloud Recesses Dance Academy, studying ballet. Lan Zhan’s mother had been the prima ballerina at the Shanghai Ballet and her sons, Lan Huan and Lan Zhan, were both expected to follow in her footsteps.
For five years, Lan Zhan and Wei Ying took classes together, wearing the standard uniform of black leggings with white socks along with a snug white pullover. Lan Qiren had a watchful eye, always quick to correct a sloppy arabesque or an undisciplined jeté.
At eight-years-old, Lan Zhan couldn’t understand why Wei Ying kept pestering him. Always asking him for pointers or showing off moves of his own. By nine, Wei Ying pronounced them best friends and Lan Zhan didn’t disagree. By twelve, Lan Zhan realized the truth of his heart and tried to be content having Wei Ying as his friend.
Then at thirteen, the Jiang family, along with Wei Ying, moved to Beijing. Away from Shanghai, away from Cloud Recesses Dance Academy, and away from Lan Zhan.
Lan Zhan tried to keep in touch, writing letters, since his uncle refused to let him to use Weibo or Oasis. But after less than a year, the letters stopped.
Dancing, however, did not stop, and while Lan Huan gave up the idea of becoming a professional, Lan Zhan did not. His studies continued, and once he completed secondary school, he had decisions to make.
For the last five years, he danced with the National Ballet of China. No doubt if Lan Zhan stayed, within two or three years, he would be named the principal dancer. But in the last year or so, something felt stagnant. His progress seemed level instead of moving forward.
Then Lan Zhan watched an episode of the reality show ‘Born to Dance.’ And there was Wei Ying. A contestant, happily working with a mentor, focusing on contemporary dance.
Almost ten years had passed since Lan Zhan had seen Wei Ying. Since he never got a reply to his last letter to Beijing. Though he often wondered if Wei Ying still danced, maybe even idly dreamed that they might meet again at an audition or workshop.
Wei Ying was no longer a thirteen-year-old with acne and knobby knees. Lan Zhan could only stare at the television and watch Wei Ying’s tendu and chassé and marvel at his beauty, and the strength of his moves.
Lan Zhan had taken plenty of contemporary dance classes and workshops throughout his life. But never once had he actually considered pursuing contemporary as an option professionally. He was good at it; Lan Zhan is sure enough in his talent that he knew he would be.
Even so, he didn’t think he could move like Wei Ying.
But he desperately wanted to.
The next day, he set up an audition for the Jin Xing Dance Theatre. There he danced happily for a season.
The next year? Wei Ying joined the troupe.
“There’s my two favorite people.”
Lan Zhan does his best to stay still as Wei Ying flings his arms around both Lan Zhan’s and Wen Qing’s shoulders. Wen Qing shakes him off right away. Lan Zhan tries to let the moment linger.
“Wait, I take that back. So sorry, Lan Zhan. So sorry, Wen Qing. By law and all that is honorable, jiejie is first.” Wei Ying grins, like he’s inviting Lan Zhan in on the joke. “But you two are right there behind.”
Jiang Yanli also took lessons at Cloud Recesses Academy a lifetime ago. Though as Wei Ying tells it, she had no desire to become a professional. Instead, she works in the costume shop, helping repair costumes and design new ones.
“I’m starving. Should we grab dinner?”
Three months have passed since Wei Ying and Wen Qing joined the troupe. Having Wei Ying back in Lan Zhan’s life, being called one of his favorite people, should have been enough.
It should have been. But his traitor heart desperately wants more.
They walk to a noodle shop, ignoring the traffic noise and bright lights of the city around them. Wen Qing is on her phone almost the entire time they walk; Lan Zhan does not mind, because then he has Wei Ying’s attention for himself.
The rumors about Wei Ying and Wen Qing started from the first moment they stepped into the building. They auditioned together, as a set. Their routine was sensual, but not explicit. A beauty of movement and bodies.
When it came out that Wei Ying was bisexual? That seemed to cinch the deal. Wei Ying and Wen Qing were clearly fucking. Just being very professional about it. That professionalism didn’t stop everyone from gossiping every time Wei Ying had his hands on Wen Qing’s body, just to perform a basic lift.
Everyone except Lan Zhan, of course. Lan Zhan’s only wish would be for Wen Qing to realize just how lucky she is, to have Wei Ying in her life in that way.
“Can you believe performances start in a week?” Wei Ying asks as they sit down for dinner. Wen Qing shrugs, still typing furiously on her phone. Wei Ying grins and turns his attention to Lan Zhan. “I heard you made some changes to your solo. This close to the end?”
They talk shop until Wei Ying starts to fume about the fact that one of the troupe’s main benefactors, Jin Zixuan, asked Jiang Yanli on a date.
“She’s an adult, Wei Ying,” Wen Qing says, finally looking up from her phone and straight at Wei Ying. “She can do what she wants. And at least he had the courage to do something about it.”
“You know, Wen Qing, you really should be nicer to me,” Wei Ying says with a laugh. He rests his chin on his hand and blinks innocently. “Remember, we’re having sex now. Making love. Having a room affair. The good ol’ cloud and rain—“
As Lan Zhan’s heart shatters into even tinier pieces, Wen Qing takes the palm of her hand and palms Wei Ying’s cheek, pushing his face away from her.
She doesn’t deny a single word Wei Ying says.
One of the many benefits to rising early is that the dance center isn’t all that crowded in the early morning. Lan Zhan finds an empty practice space and starts his usual routine of stretches.
Once he’s limber, Lan Zhan look at himself in the mirror. This morning, he doesn’t want to practice his solo. While he’s performing with a contemporary dance troupe, the choreographer constructed the routine with Lan Zhan’s background in ballet in mind. The end result, while beautiful, is not all that different than a ballet solo. Though Lan Zhan will be wearing snug-fighting jeans and a tight black pull-over shirt when he performs in front of a paying audience.
Today, he wants to work on something new.
After secondary school, Lan Zhan took an hour-long workshop going over the basics of krumping. Before the workshop, Lan Zhan considered just the act of signing up his own little rebellion against the strict schedule his uncle wanted him to keep.
Never in a million years did Lan Zhan think he would actually enjoy it. Or finding that one class of krump would lead to street dance and urban hip-hop classes, which he also took great satisfaction in. His uncle thought it a waste of precious time and money, but Lan Zhan continued to take classes when he could.
These are dance moves he would never show anyone else. He’s never added any steps to any of his routines. But here? In a small practice space?
Ear buds in, so only he can hear the beat, Lan Zhan dances. He likes having something just for himself. His eyes close, and he simply lets his body move in time with the music.
Time passes.
“Lan Zhan? What is that? What was that move?”
Standing in the doorway, Wei Ying’s eyes are almost wild. Lan Zhan stops the music and takes out his ear buds. “That thing you did with your hip— Lan Zhan. That was… Lan Zhan, you do ballet.”
Lan Zhan’s ears go red, he’s sure of it. His dance moves aren’t for others to see, especially Wei Ying. They are too personal, give too much of himself away. But before he spirals into something like an anxiety attack, Lan Zhan takes a breath. Who else but Wei Ying can he bare every part of his soul to?
“You were popping. You. And locking.”
“Yes.” Lan Zhan is good at it, too. He thoroughly enjoys the challenge of having such minute control over his body. Ballet requires that level of attention to detail, as well, but it is a very different skill set.
“I would be a poor dancer if I only focused on ballet,” Lan Zhan says, secretly pleased to have thrown Wei Ying for a loop.
Wei Ying drops his backpack to the ground and heads over to the barre. He lifts a leg up and starts to stretch. Lan Zhan tries not to stare at the beautiful lines of his leg. “I just need a minute. Gotta recalibrate the universe.”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan says, his breathing finally under control. There is time before the group rehearsal, so he faces Wei Ying and mirrors the stretch. Stretching has always calmed Lan Zhan, more than anything, even more than meditation.
For three months, Lan Zhan has had a question that he’s never quite had the courage to ask. He’s not sure why; Wei Ying, as the man himself says, is an open book. Wen Qing must be immensely private not to want to publicly admit to being in a relationship with Wei Ying.
He simply doesn’t understand why. If he were in a relationship with Wei Ying, he would celebrate how fortunate he would be every single day his heart remained beating. And Wen Qing looks at Wei Ying with more annoyance than anything else, not the love and the care that he so deserves.
The love and care Lan Zhan so desperately wants to give him.
He decides to ask the question. If Wei Ying has seen Lan Zhan’s most intimate secret, perhaps Wei Ying will share some truths of his own.
“Why did you leave ballet?”
Wei Ying shrugs with both shoulders. “It just made sense,” he says, settling into fifth position before performing a pitch-perfect sissonne. Clearly Wei Ying kept up with his technique. “I knew I would never be a principal dancer and sure, being part of the corps would pay the bills. But would it fulfill me? Nope.”
“Does contemporary challenge you?” Lan Zhan asks. He disagrees with the idea that Wei Ying would never be a principal dancer. Every Artistic Director in China looks for someone with the intangibles that Wei Ying brings to his performances.
The smile on Wei Ying’s face easily answers the question. “In more ways than one,” Wei Ying says, his arms stretched out to the side as he executes a pas de bourrée. “Ballet is great for the basics, though. I’d be a completely different dancer if I started with tap or jazz or something like that.”
Lan Zhan briefly wonders what his own career would be like, if his foundation was street dance instead of ballet. Wei Ying is correct. He would not be the same.
“Same question for you,” Wei Ying says, getting down on the floor to stretch out his back. “Like, I still can’t believe you’re here. Not just in Shanghai, but with this troupe. I never thought you’d do anything other than ballet. Ever.”
Lan Zhan sits down on the floor and starts to stretch as well. “I enjoy a challenge,” his eyes not leaving Wei Ying’s face.
Wei Ying grins before he leans forward in a jackknife stretch. “You really are the best, Lan Zhan,” he says as he holds the stretch. Lan Zhan takes in as much as he can, until Wei Ying changes to a different stretch, his face no longer hidden. “I’m really glad we’re friends again.”
Never has been Lan Zhan so grateful that he’s in his own jackknife stretch, that Wei Ying can’t see how his words have affected him. Grateful is too mild to describe Lan Zhan’s feelings, not that he can ever share that with Wei Ying.
There are so many questions that Lan Zhan wants to ask, to get to the core of who Wei Ying is as a dancer, as a person. Lan Zhan wants to know him again, like he did when they were children. But Wei Ying is with Wen Qing and Lan Zhan has no right.
“That’s so cool that your brother still dances.”
Lan Zhan nods, always proud of his brother. Lan Huan suffered career-ending injury not long after Wei Ying and the Jiangs moved from Shanghai. Knowing he would never follow their mother’s footsteps, Lan Huan went to college, studying law instead of dance.
But he never gave up dancing, and now leads a small community ensemble.
Tonight is one of the group’s performances. Jiang Yanli did the costumes, so Lan Zhan and Wei Ying came out to support the show. The theatre is small, less than fifty seats. The stage itself is even smaller.
The group never makes any money; Lan Huan often needs to finance the rehearsal and performance spaces himself. But he gets to dance with the two men he loves: Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue.
“He says he will dance until his body decides it’s no longer fun,” Lan Zhan tells Wei Ying.
Such a difference trajectory than the one Lan Zhan and Wei Ying are on. They will be able to dance until nameless faces decide they are no longer deemed worthy for the stage. Then they will be mentors to those who will take their place. Though Lan Zhan has a secret dream of choreography.
And not just ballet. Not even contemporary. The fusion of the two, with sparks of krump and street dance. Maybe one day.
The lights go down and the performance begins. It’s not often that Lan Zhan is jealous of his brother’s life, but as Lan Huan and Meng Yao begin their pas de deux, Lan Zhan can’t stop himself from looking over at Wei Ying, wishing that things were different.
“I bet their sex is amazing.”
“Ten yuan she pegs him.”
“Well, duh. No bet.”
The women burst into giggles and Lan Zhan stares at the sandbags hanging from the rafters of the theatre. His solo is next on the rehearsal docket, which is why he is being forced to listen to the gossip.
But is it gossip when Wei Ying himself confirmed it to be true?
Lan Zhan forces himself to watch Wei Ying and Wen Qing’s routine. Tonight is a modified tech rehearsal, meaning it is practice more for the crew than the dancers. Tonight is to ensure that lighting cues are set, that music is ready. That the stagehands can quickly move any set dressing on and off the stage easily.
Tomorrow will be the dress rehearsal, then finally, a month of performances.
After that? Lan Zhan has a decision to make.
The National Ballet of China has offered him a soloist position for next season. Not the principal, but it was hinted heavily that the season after that…
As Wei Ying says, the position would pay the bills. The company planned a European tour; Lan Zhan would have the chance to travel. His uncle won’t even discuss it. In his mind, next season, Lan Zhan will dance with the National Ballet of China. Lan Zhan is not quite ready to sign the contract, having one crucial question. A question he wouldn’t even consider if Wei Ying wasn’t in his life.
Will a soloist position fulfill him?
“They are so beautiful together.”
Lan Zhan shuts his eyes, wishing the two women were anywhere but here. They don’t even need to be in the wings right now. They are just here to watch the duet. And to ogle their fellow dancers.
He should be content that Wei Ying is back in his life at all. There are so many different ways they could have missed each other. If Lan Zhan hadn’t been over at his brother’s for dinner that one night, and Lan Huan didn’t have ‘Born to Dance’ playing in the background?
If Lan Zhan had auditioned for a different contemporary dance troupe. If Wei Ying hadn’t turned down an offer in London and instead move to Shanghai?
So many versions of his life could be bereft of Wei Ying. But this version, is not. This version is lucky to text him back and forth, almost every day. This version gets to see him during rehearsals, and even occasionally outside of them as well.
This is enough. To bask in Wei Ying’s artistry, to be challenged by him…
It is enough.
Lan Zhan slips in his ear bugs and starts to stretch. The call for tonight’s dress rehearsal is in an hour, giving him plenty of time to warm-up and to freestyle a bit.
Perhaps if he decides to stay with the troupe, he could request to choreograph his own solo next concert, bring in his own movements and ideas. That is, if. A word with many implications.
Lan Zhan watches himself in the mirror and does a stomp, leading to a chest pop. Krumping challenges his body, uses muscles he doesn’t always engage in. It’s exhilarating, challenging. He loves it.
He catches movement in the mirror and watches Wei Ying step into the studio. It’s one of the smaller studios, one with actual walls instead of glass, so one could theoretically have some privacy.
“Wei Ying.”
“Carry on,” Wei Ying says in an unhurried air as he walks up to the barre. “Pretend I’m not here.”
Lan Zhan can no sooner do that than breathe. But he also cannot ignore a request of Wei Ying’s, so he counts a beat in his head and starts to move.
Thirty seconds in, Wei Ying stands next to him and tries to pick up the movement. “I still can’t wrap my head around you dancing street dance,” Wei Ying says. “You are way better than I thought you’d be.”
Lan Zhan tries not to preen too much at the compliment. “I enjoy it very much,” he admits as he does a series of chest pops.
“Okay, that. Can you show me how to do that?” Wei Ying asks. “Like, your retractions are crazy intense.”
Lan Zhan nods and turns to face Wei Ying. Teaching is something Lan Zhan enjoys, though he doesn’t get the chance very often. “Here,” Lan Zhan says, positioning Wei Ying’s hips just so.
That’s when Wei Ying takes a step closer, with Lan Zhan’s hands still on his hips. His breath catches. They are close, too close. Lan Zhan’s heart is beating outside of his chest,
“Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying is smiling softly, like there is no where he’d rather be. “You have no idea—“
All Lan Zhan can do is feel his heart shatter as Wei Ying breaches the sliver of air between them and kisses him. The kiss is tentative, as if unsure of his welcome, and Lan Zhan needs to be anywhere but here.
Because it is not his right. This is not his kiss. This kiss belongs to Wen Qing and can never be Lan Zhan’s.
Even though it’s the hardest thing he’s ever done in his life, Lan Zhan pulls away. “Wei Ying,” he says, devastated. How can they ever stay friends after this? After Lan Zhan knows what it’s like to feel their lips pressed together? Every minute will be agony. “I can’t.”
Wei Ying steps back instantly. “Oh fuck, I’m sorry,” he says, covering his mouth with his hands. “Lan Zhan, I thought— Wow, fuck, was I wrong. Okay.” Without giving Lan Zhan a chance to respond, Wei Ying is all but running from the room. “Okay. Bye.”
The door slams shut and Lan Zhan sinks to the floor. He wants to run after Wei Ying, beg his forgiveness, but Lan Zhan knows himself too well. He can’t imagine Wei Ying the type to cheat on Wen Qing, so he’s sure there’s some sort of arrangement there.
But whatever it is, Lan Zhan simply can’t be a part of it. He is not the type built for arrangements. So he stares at the floor, unsure how to salvage the best thing in his life, or if he even can.
“What the fuck? Did they break up?”
“Something must of happened. They look so— off.”
Once again, Lan Zhan can’t take his eyes off of Wei Ying as he dances his duet with Wen Qing. But this time, it’s for all the wrong reasons.
The beauty and artistry that Wei Ying brings to his dance routines is flat. Uninspired. Where normally Wei Ying’s face tells a story all its own, tonight his face is blank.
Wen Qing does what she can to turn things around, but the dance is not a solo, but a dance for two. If Wei Ying cannot find the joy in his movements, there is little that Wen Qing can do.
The music ends and there’s only half-hearted clapping in the audience. Tonight is the last dress rehearsal; tomorrow, they will perform in front of a paying audience. Tomorrow, things need to be perfect.
Wei Ying and Wen Qing rush off the stage, talking in furious whispers as they exit stage left. Lan Zhan enters stage right, so he no longer can see Wei Ying’s face.
Perhaps it’s for the best, Lan Zhan thinks as he hits his opening mark. Perhaps this was the only way it could ever end: with Lan Zhan’s heart in pieces.
The first strain of violins hits and as Lan Zhan strikes his initial pose, he knows it’s not for the best. But the only thing he can do right now is dance. So he does.
It is not his best performance, not when his stomach is still in knots over what had occurred earlier. Wei Ying had kissed him. Kissed him and Lan Zhan pushed him away. If only Lan Zhan were less selfish, he could have had everything he ever wanted.
But selfish is the only way to describe how he feels when it comes to Wei Ying.
Once his solo is complete, Lan Zhan goes to the communal dressing room to change into his next costume. His mind is still reeling and he doesn’t know if he will ever find equilibrium again.
The final dance for the performance is supposed to be a celebration, a joyous start to a new day. The entire company performs together, all wearing the same black tank top and leggings.
And tonight it is all wrong. Oh, the movements are correct, Lan Zhan is too much of a professional to do anything else. But it is completely wrong. When normally Wei Ying tries to catch Lan Zhan’s eye over and over again throughout the dance, tonight, Wei Ying won’t even look in his direction.
Usually after rehearsal is winding down, Wei Ying always sits next to Lan Zhan as they listen to notes. Tonight, though? Wei Ying sits on the complete other side of the stage. The moment the stage manager releases the dancers, Wei Ying is up on his feet, bolting off off into the wings of the theatre.
Lan Zhan looks over at Wen Qing who is glaring at him as if has personally offended him. And perhaps he has. He is the one that kissed her partner. No doubt Wei Ying told her what had happened and now Lan Zhan has caused even more strife.
Instead of walking away, like he assumed she would, Wen Qing marches right up to him. The top of her head doesn’t even reach his shoulder, but she towers over him, all the same.
“Whatever you did, fix it.”
She then stomps off without another word. Lan Zhan closes his eyes, wondering just how he’s supposed to fix things? Wei Ying has a partner. Lan Zhan understands his heart enough to know he would never be satisfied with a polymorous relationship. His brother thrives in one; but it would not work for Lan Zhan. He is too greedy, wants too much.
Wants Wei Ying too much.
Even though he’s practically sick to his stomach with anxiety, Lan Zhan decides that Wen Qing is right. He needs to fix this. He just doesn’t know how. Perhaps somehow, they can still be friends. Because without Wei Ying in his life at all? Lan Zhan doesn’t think he can go back to that reality. He can survive without romance, but he does not want to be without Wei Ying.
Wei Ying isn’t in the group dressing room. Lan Zhan quickly changes into jeans and a button-down shirt, wondering where he might be. Wei Ying almost always is the last to leave the dressing room, wanting the chance to talk to as many people as possible. His red winter coat is still draped over a chair, so he’s somewhere in the building.
Lan Zhan will just have to find him.
The second floor is full of small practice studios, with walls of glass, so that classes can easily be observed. Down at the end of the hallway, still in his performance clothes, is Wei Ying.
The closer Lan Zhan gets to the studio, he can pick up the moves Wei Ying is practicing. Dance moves that Wei Ying had seen Lan Zhan do before the dress rehearsal started.
Something possessive breaks out of Lan Zhan’s chest, watching Wei Ying perform moves that Lan Zhan had choreographed himself. The lines are not as smooth, the pops not as crisp, but with practice, Wei Ying could thrive.
Lan Zhan can only watch as Wei Ying stumbles over a quick back bend, then standing up, shaking his head with a private smile. Without thinking, Lan Zhan lets himself into the studio, standing at the door.
Wei Ying stills.
Even standing still, there is an energy, a beauty to Wei Ying. Lan Zhan wants him desperately, but he’s never been further away. If only Lan Zhan could be content being one of the relationships in Wei Ying’s life, instead of wanting him all for himself.
Wei Ying’s back is to Lan Zhan, but their eyes meet through the mirrors on the wall.
“Yeah? Do you need something?”
Lan Zhan wants to look down at the floor, wants to look at anything but the hurt on Wei Ying’s face. Somehow, he must find the words to make things right, to be the cause of Wei Ying’s smile once again. Lan Zhan is willing to do almost anything to make Wei Ying smile.
“Look,” Wei Ying says, taking out his ear buds. He’s still staring at the mirror instead of Lan Zhan. Perhaps that’s for the best. Perhaps this will make things easier. “You don’t have to do this, okay? I’m fine. You made it clear you’re not interested and I’m fine.”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, just to say his name, because when will he have the right again? “How can I be interested—“ Wei Ying scrunches his eyes shut, as if warding off pain. “—When you’re in a relationship with Wen Qing?”
Wei Ying’s eyes fly open.
“A relationship with Wen Qing.”
Lan Zhan doesn’t think he can look at him any longer, but how can he look away? He heard confusion in Wei Ying’s voice. Perhaps Lan Zhan misjudged? Perhaps they’re in a friends-with-benefits situation, though unless Lan Zhan has completely misread Wei Ying, he doubts that Wei Ying would be content with that for long.
“You said yourself, that you are sleeping together.”
And just like that, Wei Ying is smiling. There is a light in his eyes that threatens to take Lan Zhan’s breath away. “And what if I wasn’t?” Wei Ying says, his grin almost feral. He turns away from the mirror so they’re looking right at each other. “Sleeping, with her, I mean. What if that was just a stupid joke in response to all those rumors about the two of us?”
Lan Zhan doesn’t think he can breathe. All this time, he’s assumed… “You’re not?” he says, his voice hitching just slightly.
“Well, full disclosure,” Wei Ying says with the tilt of the head. “We did sleep together once, like three years ago. And thanks to my mediocre sex skills, she realized just how very gay she is.”
There is no universe in which someone with as much control of their body as Wei Ying has, is mediocre at sex. It is physically impossible. And it’s dawning on Lan Zhan that he might be able to find out just how good they’ll be able to move together.
“Wei Ying.”
He blinks and in the next moment, Wei Ying is standing right in front of him, only a hair’s width between them. “Can I kiss you now? Fuck, Lan Zhan. That first one doesn’t count. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to just kiss—“
Lan Zhan kisses him.
The kiss is night and day different than their first, which was unsure and tentative. This kiss is a promise. A future. A new day.
Lan Zhan wraps his arms around Wei Ying’s waist, bringing their bodies flush together. He’s more than gratified as Wei Ying deepens the kiss, licking into his mouth.
The kiss ends far too soon. Wei Ying steps back, grabbing Lan Zhan’s hands. “Okay, so your place is closer, so I’m thinking we head there.” Lan Zhan nods quickly, ready to leave right now. They will need to stop by a convenience store to pick up supplies. If they hurry, they can be in Lan Zhan’s bed within thirty minutes. “But…”
That catches Lan Zhan’s attention. “But?”
Wei Ying suddenly looks almost shy, tapping his foot. “Would you dance for me? That routine I saw you work on. Lan Zhan, I haven’t seen anything like that. Will you show me?”
All Lan Zhan ever wants is to fulfill any of Wei Ying’s wishes. He’s gratified to think he can start right this very moment. Before he can think too much, Lan Zhan takes out his phone to find the music. Once he does, he hands it to Wei Ying.
Wei Ying grins, the most beautiful smile Lan Zhan’s ever seen, and leans back against the barre. Lan Zhan nods and Wei Ying starts the music.
So very different from ballet, but so satisfying all the same. His moves are smooth, until they’re not, but still flow gracefully throughout. He forces himself to concentrate on the dance and not continually check for Wei Ying’s reaction.
Wei Ying makes sure Lan Zhan knows his thoughts anyway.
“Lan Zhan! You used to be a proper ballet dancer. And now?”
“It is illegal to do that with your hips. Illegal.”
“I remember you freaking out over your first pimple, Lan Zhan, how are you so hot now?”
The routine is short, only two minutes, but Lan Zhan is fairly certain his face is on fire the entire time.
The moment Lan Zhan indicates that he’s done, Wei Ying is jumping up and down, clapping and cheering. “That was amazing,” Wei Ying says. He kisses Lan Zhan, who is in a bit of a daze. This is his life now. A life where he can kiss or be kissed by Wei Ying. “Seriously, you need to teach me that and then we’ll put it on Youku.”
“Now?” Lan Zhan is hearing the words but his brain simply cannot comprehend them at the moment.
“Yes, now,” Wei Ying says with a laugh, his arms around Lan Zhan’s shoulders. Without thinking, Lan Zhan digs his fingers into Wei Ying’s hips. It steadies him. “I was really being legit before, when I asked you to teach me. I just— Lan-er-gege, I never thought you could move like that.” Wei Ying leans forward, close enough that his breath brushes against the shell of Lan Zhan’s ear. “Will you show this undeserving disciple?”
Lan Zhan gulps. He wants to, he does. He looks at the door—
“We have the rest of our lives to fuck, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, without a single ounce of shame. Lan Zhan loves him. “We only have our dancer’s bodies for so long. So yes. Teach me, Lan-laoshi.”
Well, then.
Only one thing makes sense to Lan Zhan right now. He takes Wei Ying’s hand and teaches him the routine. As he does, Wei Ying lets it slip that he came to rehearsal today fully prepared to seduce Lan Zhan and has plenty of supplies in his backpack, so no trip to the convenience store needed.
They leave the dance center hand in hand.
And they are brilliant the next night. Completely exhausted. But brilliant.
Next Year
Lan Zhan choreographs his first professional dance, a pas de deux with Wei Ying, and they’ve never been happier.