he tastes the saltiness of his tears when he swipes his tongue gently across wei ying’s lips. “why didn't you tell me?” wei ying asks, arms locked behind lan zhan’s back as he looks up at him, at the contours of his perfectly sculpted face.

“i could ask you the same,” lan zhan replies, giving wei ying a chaste kiss on his forehead. “ten… years, lan zhan, can you believe it?” wei ying says. “we wasted ten long years like this… don’t you think we could’ve done so much in this time?”