Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
ᴏɴᴇ ᴡᴇᴇᴋ ᴀɢᴏ
To be woken by a heart monitor and analeptic fumes was dreadful.
"Annoying..." Lan WangJi grumbled, lifting his hand, eyeing the IV snuggled up into his lavender vein. There was a dull, distant ache in his gut, ghosts of what put him in this stiff hospital bed.
"D-Didi?" Came a tired voice, barely, drifting by like a cottonwood seed. Lan WangJi almost missed it.
At his bedside, Lan XiChen had waited for days. He knew his brother hated hospitals; he wouldn't let him wake up alone. He grabbed Lan WangJi's rested hand, shaking like a wet fledgling. He was the older brother, but you could never tell until now. Wrinkled skin and sleepy hollows for eyes aged him. His lips were dried like an old chrysalis. Even the family crest, tattooed on his forehead, seemed a duller blue.
"XiongZhang." Lan WangJi hated seeing his big brother worn down. "What happened?"
"Poison. Strychnine. Near the end of the auction, you... you collapsed, convulsing." Lan XiChen shut his eyes, even though the memory was still behind them. You could see it trembling in his lashes. "Y-Your heart stopped twice, didi."
Oh. Lan WangJi supposed the heart monitor was a comfort for his brother. He was a little less peeved by it now.
"Who?"
Lan WangJi knew the question was foolish. Many people wished him death, but none had ever come so close to reaping him. The Lan family was a powerful influence in the underworld, dismantling drug cartels and gangs, targeting greedy institutions and greedier businessmen, giving back to the destitute. The Cloud Recesses was their licit business, a non-profit which offered rehab, therapy, and other services to the public.
Mother used to joke that they were the Robin Hoods of China.
But they made many enemies for it.
XiChen shook his head. Hair came loose from a poorly done updo. Against the pale skin of his neck, it fell like shadows. "We don't know, but they probably believe they succeeded. I... I thought they did too."
Lan WangJi squeezed his hand, playing his knuckles like a marimba.
"Uncle and I decided it would be best for you to stay dead, at least until we find out who is behind this. If they know you survived, they will surely try again. You wouldn't be safe."
"Stay dead?"
"Mn, laying low, keeping away from the Cloud Recesses. There's an apartment in Yiling, far from the city center, one tenant—a single father and his four-year-old son. Things should be easy for you there."
"How long?"
"It's indefinite, A-Zhan. But I won't rest until you can come home."
"Mn," Lan WangJi hummed. Though he reciprocated, he was sad and worried about what was going to happen. Change was a skittish thing, like a wounded street cat. Being unable to predict tomorrow terrified him.
