Sit Softly On Your Shoulder

Chapter 17: Reaching Home

Lan Zhan lets himself into the building, feeling absolutely shattered. Getting home from Suzhou has been a desperate nightmare, and he's exhausted everything he has, running on fumes as he closes the front door behind him. He doesn't even know what day it is, and when he blearily checks his watch, he thinks it might be Saturday night, close to midnight.

The building is quiet and dark as he climbs the steps up to his flat. Inside his apartment, he waits to let his eyes adjust. The curtains are closed, but there's a gap that allows the glimmering moonlight in, and he can make out the dodgy shapes of the furniture. He knows Mianmian is staying here, but he's not sure which room she might have taken, so the couch is the safest bet. He can use his mother's crochet blanket, and it will do for now. He's so tired. He just wants to lie down.

The living room is awash with a deep bluish light reminding him of the famous cobalt porcelain bowls and plates his mother used to keep back in Suzhou. She favoured the designs depicting town centres and village squares from their homeland.

But a whimper cautions him as he slowly makes his way to the sofa. There is a long lump on his couch, and it is definitely the wrong shape for Mianmian. For the first time since Lan Zhan left here, he smiles. This is Wei Ying. A wondrous sight for his sore eyes. He must have been waiting for Lan Zhan to come home - that's the only explanation that makes sense.

He immediately makes the choice and shrugs off his worn jacket. Then he gently eases himself next to Wei Ying, rolling so that he doesn't wake him. As his nose fills with the scent of cinnamon and wildflowers, Lan Zhan's whole body relaxes. He makes sure to hold Wei Ying to him, so neither falls off the narrow space. He pulls his mother's blanket over them both and closes his eyes again.

Now, he's finally home.

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Wei Ying snuggles deeper into the warmth of his pillow, relaxing further. Lan Zhan's couch smells just like him, and really, he should have made up an excuse to come and stay here before, just to get his sandalwood fix. He has deeply missed this fragrance, a sweet-but-spicy mix that is now a hundred percent Lan Zhan in his mind.

There's a nice dream on the periphery of his consciousness that pulls him back into the sweetest slumber as his mind helpfully reminds him that today is Sunday and he can sleep in. Wei Ying gives up against the random thought that pops up, that he's waiting for something to happen. All that matters is that he's safe and warm and that Lan Zhan will be home soon.

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Why is his pillow moving? And is that coffee he can smell? Nectar of the Gods? Wei Ying mumbles something and tries to turn away from the horrible light coming in through the windows - hang on a minute...didn't he close them last night? Mianmian must have opened them in a bid to get him to wake up. Well, jokes on her because he can just turn and face the sofa and absolutely not get up.

But something is holding him tight, and there's a rumble, and is that- why is there a heartbeat inside his pillow? Wei Ying lets his hands wander, and at first, the pillow feels like all pillows should, covered in cotton and firm (kind of muscular??) and warm, and then it laughs.

Pillows don't usually laugh. Come to think of it, pillows definitely do not have heartbeats!

Higher up, his hands connect with something softer, and then before they can continue their exploration of the mysterious pillow shape, warm hands gently take his wrists, and something soft kisses each palm.

Wei Ying tries to think, because pillows aren't supposed to kiss you, right?

"Wei Ying. It is time to wake up."