Courtship Rite

Reminiscing

After he'd abandoned Xichen to his uncle's ire, Meng Yao retreated to his own apartment, poured himself a glass of wine, dropped onto the couch, and gazed absently out the window. He'd rented this apartment when he'd first started at Lan Corp, when he'd been in a more junior position. The windows looked out over the city, a nice enough view even if it couldn't hold a candle to Xichen's view of the water.

Meng Yao downed the glass, barely bothering to taste it, and poured himself another. Wei Ying had been in that courtesan room for more than two weeks. In that time, Meng Yao had done almost nothing to force him to adjust. Why? Something in his heart sank at the thought. Meng Yao sat up, turning his gaze from the view, and placed his wine glass on the table. It didn't matter why he'd delayed, but it was important that he get back on track immediately, starting with reciprocity and commitment.

Leaving the wine behind, he grabbed a notepad. If Wei Ying had been whisked away by a whirlwind romance, what might he write? Raving about luxuries and extravagant accommodations was likely a step too far given that Wei Ying had been imprisoned in a small room. The food? Meng Yao thought about the bland meals Lan Wangji preferred. No, Wei Ying wouldn't be praising the food. Damn, he hadn't realized this would be so difficult.

Why am I happy here? If he answered that, it might be possible to extrapolate statements for Wei Ying. He enjoyed his responsibilities in Lan Corp. His work provided a sense of accomplishment. Xichen was a skilled and attentive lover. Oh, he could put that on the list for Wei Ying although thinking of Lan Wangji as any kind of lover? Ugh. And, honestly, asking Wei Ying to write about Lan Wangji's lovemaking skills? Insensitive bordering on downright rude. Ah, well, he could save that one for the later statements. What else? Meng Yao had a great apartment, a personal chef, but he didn't do much more than work. Even his dates, always to the hottest cultural events, were more along the lines of work than not. He was there to be seen, to make connections, not to enjoy himself.

Why was that? When had his life become so empty? Growing up, he'd had so many friends. It'd been hard giving them up when he'd moved on to that elite school, or at least it'd been hard at first, until he'd been brought into Xichen's crowd. Meng Yao had been a fool. He'd thought their wealth made them more respectable than his old friends.

That was before Xichen had pointed out Wen Xu chatting up a girl at a party, before she'd turned up dead, before Xichen had said Wen Xu must have had one hell of a night. Meng Yao hadn't actually believed Wen Xu had killed the girl, not until Mingjue had started raging at Xichen. Afterwards, Meng Yao had pretended he hadn't understood, and the boys pretended Xichen had never said anything, but they kept a wary eye on Meng Yao until they were sure he wouldn't report it to the police. He wasn't stupid. He knew those rich boys could get away with murder and that he'd never survive turning them in. Mingjue had been extra sweet after that as if afraid the revelation would break their newly formed relationship. Meng Yao had wondered over the years why Xichen had revealed their hunts only two days after he'd caught Mingjue and Meng Yao kissing. The most likely answer was also the most uncomfortable, that he'd seen a poor boy, someone nobody would miss, and had decided he wanted.

Suddenly, Meng Yao couldn't stand the thought of being alone. He couldn't bring himself to face Xichen and instead found himself dialing Mingjue.

"Yeah?" Meng Yao melted at the warm burr of Mingjue's voice. "A-Yao?"

"I shouldn't have called."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." The word came out too cheerful, too bright. "Really, nothing. I was reminiscing about our school days and wanted to reach out."

"School days."

By the tone in Mingjue's voice, he knew exactly what Meng Yao'd been thinking. "Not that. Well, maybe that. I just ... Do you ever wish things had gone differently?"

"I could come over."

Oh, and Meng Yao wanted. The only place he'd ever felt safe was Mingjue's arms. "No. That's not necessary." Xichen wasn't nice when he was jealous.

"If you're sure," Mingjue said, the doubt clear in his voice.

"I'd better go. I apologize for disturbing you."Meng Yao hung up before Mingjue could reply. He glanced down at his notepad,seeing the one item he'd written: Lan Wangji as an attentive lover. He turnedthe notepad over before walking to his liquor cabinet. He'd get back to writingWei Ying's statements tomorrow. Tonight, he was going to drink enough to blurthe memories so he could forget.