The Mad Ҡìղց

Lan Wanji's life. 7

The festival had been a whirlwind of energy, bursting with vibrant colors, laughter, and the thrill of competition. It seemed as if the entire world had shown up to participate. Some were there for the food, others for the contests, and some, like Ayana, simply for the social thrill of it all. Yet, amidst all the excitement, Wanji had missed it all, seemingly preoccupied with something far beyond the tangible—a chase, not after the fleeting pleasures of the festival, but after the wind itself.

Victor had been watching Wanji. He couldn't help but feel a strange satisfaction. Wanji was giving up. But for Wanji, it had been different. While the festival had raged on around him, he had been elsewhere—literally chasing the wind, or at least that's what everyone assumed. His feet had carried him beyond the noise, beyond the festivities, into a quieter space where he had nothing but his thoughts.

"You missed it all, Wanji. You didn't even show up for the competitions I signed you up for," Ayana hissed, her voice laced with disappointment. "People were asking about you."

Wanji shrugged casually, his gaze scanning the crowd in the pool without meeting her accusing eyes. "I was sightseeing," he said nonchalantly.

"More like you were chasing the wind," Ayana muttered, shaking her head. Her lips pressed into a tight line as she crossed her arms. "I saw you talking to Wen Chao a few days ago. Whatever you're planning, you need to stop it. My brother won't tolerate it." we don't meddle in their business they don't meddle in ours.

Wanji finally met her gaze, his expression unreadable. "It was just a casual conversation," he said, his voice flat. "Nothing personal."

Ayana's eyes narrowed. "Anything involving the Wen family is never casual. You're coming with me to the campfire tonight. No arguments. And if you don't... I'll tell my brother you were stalking Wen Chao."

Wanji sighed, realizing there was no way out of this one. "I'll be ready by 8."

"Make it 7," Ayana said, flipping her hair as she headed toward the pool. "We need to grab a good spot. And who knows," she added with a playful smirk, "maybe I'll get laid tonight."

She jumped into the pool, her laughter echoing as she swam, carefree. Wanji watched her, disgust evident on his face, though he remained silent.

As the hours passed, Wanji stayed by the pool, sipping on a beer and letting his thoughts drift. His mind felt strangely empty as if the usual whirl of emotions and thoughts had finally quieted, leaving behind only a dull, numb sensation.

By the time 7 p.m. arrived, Wanji and Ayana were ready to head to the campfire. Wanji dressed simply—shorts, a round-neck polo, and sneakers. Ayana, on the other hand, had gone all out. Her red dress hugged her figure perfectly, her back exposed to the warm evening breeze. Her hair was up in a sleek bun, and her makeup was flawless yet understated. As they left, she linked arms with Cheng.

Cheng, always the pragmatic one, suggested, "Why don't we just walk barefoot? We're going to have to take off our shoes anyway when we get to the fire."

Ayana quickly agreed, tossing her Gucci slippers back into the car, but Wanji hesitated. He didn't care for the casual suggestion. "It's just a few hundred bucks."

"Thousands, you mean," Cheng teased, laughing at Wanji's stubbornness as they strolled toward the garden where the campfire was set up. The walk was short, but Wanji could already hear the hum of laughter and the sound of music.

The fire crackled fiercely at the center of the gathering, and as Ayana scouted for a spot, Wanji's gaze drifted aimlessly. By now, the crowd had grown. People were seated in circles, drinks in hand, and a few brave souls were already dancing by the fire. Ayana found a prime spot near the center, and they settled in.

Time seemed to slow down as the night stretched. By nine, the campfire was alive with activity. Music filled the air, and the fire cast long shadows, giving the whole scene an otherworldly feel. People drank, laughed, and shared stories. It was, in every sense, the heart of the festival, and everyone was enjoying it in their own way. But Wanji's mind was elsewhere.

That's when he saw him.

Wei Ying.

The sight of him, seated across the fire, made Wanji's heart skip a beat. He couldn't take his eyes off him. Wei Ying looked like something out of a dream. His half-buttoned shirt revealed a chiseled chest, and the fire's glow made his face look almost ethereal. His hair seemed to shimmer in the light. It took everything in Wanji's power not to stare, but it was impossible. His thoughts spiraled as he imagined what it would be like to be close to him, to touch him, to lie next to him in the dark naked. Thinking of naked. Wanji had never seen Wei Ying naked before and he wondered what he looked like down there.

Wanji's breath hitched, and he bit his lip to stifle a moan as an unexpected wave of desire coursed through him. How had things come to this? Why did his heart still yearn for Wei Ying, even after everything that had happened? Wanji adjusts in his seat, his cock painfully hard in his shorts. He sucked in a sharp breath.

You're staring," Ayana whispered with a knowing smile. "You still have it hot for him, don't you?"

Wanji tore his eyes away, but the damage was done. "Yes," he admitted softly, his voice thick with emotion. "Even after everything, I still love him. I still want him."

Ayana's teasing expression softened. She had always known the depth of Wanji's feelings for Wei Ying, and in moments like these, she couldn't help but feel for her nephew. Cheng, sitting on the other side of Wanji, glanced over, his heart aching for the friend he had known so long. He wished things could have turned out differently.

But as Wanji turned back to look at Wei Ying, his heart sank. Victor, sitting beside Wei Ying, smirked before leaning in to plant a kiss on his lips. Wanji's chest tightened painfully, and he quickly looked away, his stomach churning. He had endured this before, but it never got easier. The sight of Wei Ying with someone else always felt like a fresh wound, reopening old scars.

Wanji's gaze drifted once more, this time landing on Wen Chao, Victor's cousin. Wen Chao's eyes were locked on him, intense and unreadable. For a moment, Wanji felt unsettled by the stare, but then, something clicked. The way Wen Chao looked at Victor—there was jealousy there. It wasn't the jealousy of a cousin, though. It was something deeper, something Wanji knew all too well.

"No," Wanji muttered to himself, shaking his head as if to dispel the thought. But the realization had already taken root in his mind, and it wouldn't let go. He tried to shake the feeling, picking up another bottle of beer and downing it quickly.

Cheng noticed Wanji's distracted state and nudged him gently. "Someone's been staring at you, you know."

"Who?" Ayana perked up, always eager for gossip.

Cheng nodded in the direction of the crowd. "7 o'clock, to your left."

Ayana's eyes scanned the crowd, lighting up when she saw who Cheng meant. "Jackson!" she sighed dramatically, clearly amused by the attention.

But Wanji didn't care. His thoughts were a mess, his emotions tangled. He took another long swig of his beer, trying to drown out the noise, the memories, and the hurt. He didn't care who was staring at him, not tonight. He had no room for anyone else in his heart tonight. Not when it still belonged to Wei Ying, even if that love was nothing more than a fading ember burning in the cold night air. The fire roared on, people danced, and the music played, but for Wanji, the night had lost its magic. All he could feel was the hollow ache of longing.