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He bought the house the moment he found out it was for sale.Lan Zhan had been looking for a home in Sandy Point for a while now. It was the first thing he wanted to do when the royalties started coming in bushels for Sizhui and the Ghost General, the second book in the Cloud Recesses series. Neither he nor his agent had expected it to do so well, but when Lan Zhan realized he had enough money to do just about anything he wanted, there was only one thing he wanted to do with it.And to have this house for sale—the luck was unreal.Now, he stands in the living room staring out beyond the back porch at the beach. The morning sun shines over the sea. His pulse is thrumming with the knowledge that he’s here, he’s back here, in this very house, over a decade later. As a teenager, Lan Zhan sat on that porch for hours, getting bitten by mosquitoes and writing poetry in a repurposed sketchbook. He still has the book. The pencil scratches have grown faded and blurry with time, but the book is part of his memory of the best week of his life. He can’t part with it.A thump sounds behind him. “I think that’s the last of the boxes,” says the voice over his shoulder.“Thank you for your help, brother,” Lan Zhan says, turning slowly to look around at the space. It’s cluttered with boxes right now, piled up against the walls and sitting in small stacks in the middle of the floor. But the house is just about exactly as he remembers it, otherwise. It has only one floor. The bedrooms are just off the living room, both the one their uncle used and the one he and Lan Huan had to share. The back porch has been expanded since he last stayed here, all of twelve or thirteen years ago. Over the next hour, Lan Huan helps him unpack the books, filling up his shelves with beloved tome after tome. His brother knows how valuable each piece is to him, and Lan Zhan trusts him. As brothers go, Lan Zhan suspects he has one of the better ones. When Lan Zhan needs to be reined in, whether it’s writing for three days straight without sleep or letting the sting of the rejection letters consume him, Lan Huan is there every time. Lan Zhan half-thought about asking him to move out here with him, but the house is really quite small and Lan Zhan needs every inch of the space for his imagination to roam. This will be a test for him, no longer living in the same apartment building as his brother, no longer able to just go down a few floors and knock on the door. “I was so surprised that you moved out here so fast,” Lan Huan says as they unpack. “And that you remembered the exact house we stayed in.”“I did,” Lan Zhan affirms. He could never forget it.“I know that summer meant a lot to you.” Lan Huan is looking at him in that knowing, brotherly way, and Lan Zhan wonders what he is remembering. “We will miss you.”“I’m an hour’s drive from the city,” Lan Zhan reminds him. “You are welcome to visit anytime.”“A-Zhan,” his brother says, “I do hope you find what you’re looking for out here. Whatever it is.”“Thank you.” Lan Zhan makes an effort to keep emotion out of his voice. “I do too.”Once Brother has headed back to the city, Lan Zhan stands in his doorway, breathing air tinged with the smell of the sea. Perhaps finishing the unpacking can wait a few hours. He wants to walk on the beach, but he’s even more curious to visit the town and see what’s changed in the decade and change since he’s been here. Grabbing his wallet and a notebook, he heads out to explore.The main street is all cobblestones for two blocks before fading into familiar concrete. There’s an air of quaintness, kitsch even, in the shops that line the last block before sidewalk becomes sand and the flat slats of the boardwalk. An ice cream store. An antique book shop. A storefront selling curios of various sorts, decked out with a flapping green awning and whimsically penned writing on the windows. “Come in… and tickle your imagination!” it beckons. Lan Zhan makes a note to do that.On the second block, he finds one place that’s changed. The seafood restaurant that basically served the whole town is gone; instead, the placard above the storefront entrance reads “Lotus Pier,” with Chinese lettering signifying the same. The windows have been tinted, and there’s a low hum of conversation emanating from behind the doors. Lan Zhan knows that this town has long been a destination for Chinese-Americans of enough means, but he wonders at the necessity of a Chinese restaurant by the beach. Surely those who come here must want local cuisine.It does smell marvelous. Lan Zhan briefly wishes he ate meat.A little further up the block are a swimsuit and surf goods shop, a coffee place, and the very same general store/souvenir shop that has been standing for at least fifteen years. Scenic postcards revolve in a display outside the open doors. Lan Zhan steps inside. The chill from the air conditioner and the multiple freezers lighting the back of the store cool his head, already hot from the late morning sunlight. He steps up to the tables of Sandy Point merchandise that line the front half of the store. Sandy Point shot glasses; tiny bottles containing “authentic” sand; an impressive variety of fans of various types and sizes, each etched with the same print of the seashore and the same “Sandy Point” script written elegantly above it. Lan Zhan picks one up and flutters cool air against his face.“That’s a good one, one of my favorites,” says a voice next to him. “Useful in the heat, right?”Lan Zhan turns. The man who stands next to him is short, with narrow eyes that slit happily as he offers Lan Zhan a smile. He is also carrying a fan, which he taps against his other hand as he speaks. “Buy one,” he says. “I know it’s only April, but the sun still gets hot out there. How long are you vacationing for?”“I’m not,” Lan Zhan replies. “I’ve moved here.”“Oh!” The stranger points his fan at Lan Zhan. “Then you’re the U-Haul that went by early this morning. My goodness, you got an early start. Coming from the big city, then?”I couldn’t wait to get out here, Lan Zhan thinks. “Yes.”“Then definitely get the fan,” the stranger says. “You’ll have it for when it really gets cooking around here. Call me Huaisang, by the way.”“Lan Zhan.” He puts out a hand to shake.Huaisang pumps it happily. “Glad to have you here, friend. If you need anything or have any questions, don’t hesitate to pop in and ask. I can also help with those… discreet questions you may not want to ask in mixed company.” He flutters his fan in front of his face.Lan Zhan has no idea what he’s talking about. “Thank you.”He walks up and down the aisles, getting a feel for the organization of things. Everything in its proper place. A store, a home, laid out logically, no room for any deviations, every footstep set like destiny. He flips open his notebook and pens a few notes before heading for the front of the store.Huaisang is by the cash register. Lan Zhan picks the fan back up from the front table and lays it on the counter. “That’s it for today?” Huaisang asks.“For now,” Lan Zhan corrects as he swipes his card. “I’ll be back after lunch.” He’s packed up and brought most of his shelf-stable foods, but he’ll have to return for fresh produce and a few other items. “Give Lotus Pier a try for lunch,” Huisang says, slipping the fan into a plastic bag and clanging the cash drawer closed. “You’ll end up eating there most of the time anyway, but the food is really good.”“Chinese food?” Lan Zhan wonders if he sounds as dubious as he is.“Oh, no! Fusion cuisine. Great seafood, sometimes an Asian twist, but more fresh fish than anything. Run by a local family, two brothers and a sister. Nice folks. You’ll probably see half the town there.”That sounds a little more promising, even if Lan Zhan doesn’t usually eat fish. “I’ll try it.”Huaisang waves after him as he goes. “See you later!”Lan Zhan heads down the street to explore a little further before eating lunch. This Huaisang character certainly is enthusiastic. And sly, Lan Zhan thinks. He’s probably the sort who knows every morsel of gossip from every family in town. Lan Zhan tends to ignore those types, at least in the literary world; idle talk about strangers doesn’t interest him. But rarely are they so friendly, and it seems he’ll be seeing this Huaisang on a fairly regular basis, so he had better get used to it. He’ll have to get used to a lot about small-town living.He passes some three-story brick office buildings, a bicycle rental shop, the local library. He’ll have to check to see if the Cloud Recesses books are stocked; if not, he can donate some of his spare copies. Lan Zhan doesn’t much like having extra copies lying around; it feels arrogant, as though he’s supposed to foist them on unsuspecting guests. He loathes the marketing aspect of writing, and leaves it to his agent for the most part.As he heads back toward Lotus Pier, he starts to take notice of the other people in town. There aren’t many walking about—it’s off season, and barely noon—but he passes a mother with two small children, an elderly gentleman stooped over at the waist. A businesswoman chatting on a cell phone, looking somewhere between engaged and peeved. All of them have Chinese features. He feels like a child again. It’s been that long since he has lived somewhere so homogenous. He never lived in Chinatown in the city; he always had an uptown apartment and passed every possible ethnicity every day as he made his way through town. This will feel different. Time alone will tell just how. The doors to Lotus Pier are wooden, inlaid with carvings, similar to those you would see in an upscale Chinese restaurant in the city. But when he enters, the decor is what you would expect of a standard beachside bar. Prints of boats and the sea line the walls; a child’s pail and shovel sit next to an oversized shell on one shelf in the corner; a life preserver hangs jauntily from a beam of the open ceiling. There are one or two lanterns and a dragon cutout as well, but they don’t dominate. He barely has time to take in the place before he’s being greeted enthusiastically and shown to a seat. The man who greets him moves too fast for Lan Zhan to get a good look at him, but he does glimpse a cheerful smile—an infectious smile. If Lan Zhan were someone else, he’d smile back. That smile reminds him of someone. He beats back the memory. Now is not the time.He has time to look over the menu briefly before that smiling face is back. This time the man is carrying a small pad of paper and a pen—apparently he is both the greeter and Lan Zhan’s waiter. Lan Zhan has a better look at him now. He’s uncommonly pretty, with raven hair that’s swept behind him in a ponytail and bright eyes. Not just pretty, but attractive. Lan Zhan is possessed of the urge to just stare, to take in every detail of that pleasant face. It’s a face like no other he has seen in a long time.But there’s no time to stare, because the young man is already talking a blue streak. “Welcome to Lotus Pier! I’m Wei Ying, I’ll be your waiter today. New in town? Have you dined with us before? I don’t think I remember you, but my memory can be spotty sometimes. We’ve got great specials today, you can check them out here, I recommend the crab dumplings. Can I start you off with a drink?”“Water. Please.” Lan Zhan’s voice is at once strangely hoarse.The waiter Wei Ying runs off to get him his water, and Lan Zhan stares after him with a frown. Is everybody in this town so unbearably talkative? Left alone for the time being, Lan Zhan surveys the restaurant. There’s a fair number of patrons seated at the rustic-style tables, chattering away mostly in various dialects of Mandarin. The usual clanging and clattering resounds from a lit doorway toward the back, undoubtedly the kitchen. Near the doorway stands a serious-faced young woman, who is talking vigorously with a taller man. The resemblance between them is striking; they’re clearly related. These must be the siblings Huaisang was talking about, back at the general store. Huaisang had mentioned three, but Lan Zhan only sees two who resemble each other for now. At one table, a smartly dressed young woman sits with a younger man. Someone from an adjoining table leans over and says something, and she lets out an unguarded, abbreviated laugh. It says to Lan Zhan that people in this town know each other. So different from the city. He’s very rarely had a relationship that casual; he can socialize, but to know someone so well you can horn in on their conversation like that? Lan Zhan can't imagine being that comfortable with anyone besides his brother. And even that relationship is ... well, Brother and he were raised a certain way.He supposes he was once that open and free. Maybe when they were children. Lan Zhan closes his eyes briefly, remembering the one time he knows he felt that way.
Scooping the sand into the pail shaped like a castle. Turning the pail upside down. Why does the sand at the top of the castle always fall away? He can’t seem to make it perfect. He scowls at the pile of sand, breaks it down gently with his hands, starts again.

Shade falls over him. He looks up.

“Why aren’t you wearing swim trunks?” asks the silhouette that's stopped to stare down at him, hands on hips. "Aren't you gonna go in the ocean?"
The image is broken up by a smiling Wei Ying, who has returned with his water. Lan Zhan nods in thanks and takes a long sip. He reaches for the phone in his pocket, thinking he’ll continue the novel he started reading last week, when he realizes Wei Ying is still standing there, looking down at him, smiling. Lan Zhan cuts himself short, turning to face him. "Can I help you?" he asks politely.Wei Ying doesn't seem aware that his standing there is unusual. "Well," he says, "I was wondering where you're from. You look like the city type, did you move all the way from Manhattan? I don’t know why you’d come all the way here from there, but who knows. How long are you staying?”Lan Zhan is torn. On the one hand, he usually can’t stand people who like to hear themselves talk, and his waiter definitely seems like one of those people. But every time Wei Ying’s smile widens, Lan Zhan wants nothing more than to sit here and watch his face for hours. His expressions are captivating.“I’m not,” he says, short and curt. “I’ve moved.”Wei Ying slaps his fist to his palm. His eyes go comically wide. “Oh, so you were the U-Haul this morning! Welcome, then!”This must be a sleepy town, if the arrival of a U-Haul has already drawn so much attention. “Yes.” He sips his water, trying to seem unconcerned. But his writer senses are pinging. He’s suddenly curious about everything going on around him—the one patron squealing out loud at her phone every few seconds; the man and the woman he’d noticed earlier talking; the cries of a baby in a far booth, where a young father tries his best to shush the child. Everything reeks of a story. Lan Zhan wants to know them all. To tell them all.Wei Ying spends another fifteen seconds welcoming Lan Zhan effusively, then takes his order—vegetable dumplings in some sort of seaweed broth—and retreats. Lan Zhan’s gaze follows him as he goes, captivated by the shape of his body and the artless way he moves. Wei Ying has a brief conversation with the restaurant owner. He waits on another table. He briefly sits down in the booth opposite the young father and takes the child for a few minutes of cooing. Lan Zhan briefly worries about the state of his hands—he should use some hand sanitizer at least. Forcing his attention away, he returns to his book.His food arrives without incident, and it’s lovely indeed, with a delicate flavor and well seasoned. Next time, perhaps Lan Zhan will break with tradition and try the fish—the steaming platters emerging from the kitchen are appetizing. If he wants to be a local, he’ll have to eat like one. His equally vegetarian brother would be shocked. The thought brings a flicker of a smile to Lan Zhan’s lips. He suppresses it quickly, before anyone can notice.Halfway through his meal, Wei Ying plants himself in the chair opposite Lan Zhan’s and grins at him sunnily. “So tell me,” he says.“Tell you what?”“Your story.” Wei Ying says it like it should have been obvious. “What brings you down here to Sandy Point? People don’t move to this town as a rule, except for maybe the occasional retiree. And even they tend to go further south. Ah, but I’m babbling.” Lan Zhan’s briefly amused that this is the moment he realizes he’s talking too much. He deliberately does not smile. “So, what’s the deal?”Lan Zhan blinks at him. There’s a shaft of afternoon sunlight that shines through the rafters, and it hits Wei Ying just so—the tip of his nose, his cheeks all lit up. The image steals the breath out of Lan Zhan. This man must be so beautiful under the full light of the sun, and Lan Zhan is hit with the image of Wei Ying, topless, running on hot sand, the ocean in the background. It’s too good an image to dismiss. He tucks it away.“I used to come here as a child,” he says. “In the summers.” For a moment, he considers telling Wei Ying more. It seems so easy to slip into the casual comfort of this town, just share everything, but this is so deeply personal that it stills his tongue. He lets his brief explanation stand without elaborating.“It’s a lot different as an adult than as a kid,” Wei Ying says sagely. “For one thing, you have to pay for things yourself. And ice cream has consequences.” He pats his belly as though he isn’t in apparently perfect shape. “But you know, you’re never too old to play around in the ocean. Let yourself get splashed on a little. It’s great to calm a racing mind.”Lan Zhan’s thoughts go everywhere at once: What sorts of things race through Wei Ying’s mind? Will it truly feel different to live here as an adult? He knows it feels different alone.
“That’s my brother’s towel,” young Lan Zhan says as the boy plants himself down beside him

“I don’t see his name on it,” the boy replies carelessly. “Anyway, we’re not staying here. We’re going in.”

“To the ocean?” Lan Zhan never even contemplated swimming. It feels like a minor sin already, just letting the foam of the surf roll over his toes. Sudden fear grips him.

“Where else?” The boy gives a sunny laugh. “Come on, you can’t go to the beach without going in the ocean.” He stands, holds out two hands to Lan Zhan.

“I’ve never,” Lan Zhan begins. “In the ocean, I mean.”

The boy laughs, and it’s like sparkles in the air. “Then this will be extra fun.”

Lan Zhan lets himself be reluctantly tugged to his feet. “The waves are too high,” he says, a weak protest.

“The waves,” the boy corrects, “are just right.”
Then he’s tugged forward, and what happens next is a rush of muddled memories: the tide receding beneath his toes, the inhale and exhale of the ocean, his shorts and T-shirt getting wet—and then that first glorious splash as the wave breaks on them. Lan Zhan’s heart is pounding. The boy hoots his triumph.
“See?” he says, turning his head.

There’s more life in his dark eyes than Lan Zhan has ever seen. He nods, and the two of them stride forward a few more inches, hand-in-hand, ready to get soaked again.

“A-Xian!” calls a voice from behind them.

The boy spins. “Coming!” he hollers, and offers Lan Zhan a quick salute before running back up the beach. Lan Zhan’s hand is empty where that boy’s hand had been. The spray breaks over him again, blotting out his vision for a wet second, and when he’s blinked away the water, the boy is nowhere to be found. Disappointed, Lan Zhan takes a step forward. This time, the water flows over him without breaking, and he feels as though he’s being swallowed into the tide.
In the afternoon, Lan Zhan returns home to unpack a bit more and enjoy his ocean view. It’s only a few steps down to the beach from here, and he takes a short walk down, pulling his shoes and socks off and letting the tide tickle his feet. It’s freezing, this early in the season, but Lan Zhan doesn’t much mind. There is something so calming about it. Lan Zhan tries to puzzle out why. Something about the waves emerging and receding, like breath. Something about the earth and the water coming together ceaselessly. From the vantage point of the beach, he looks back at his new home. From the outside, it’s barely more than a shack—uninspiring siding that may once have been sky-blue, but which has faded through years and sunlight to a half-there gray. The house is nestled in a copse of trees that provide a buffer of shade and privacy between him and his neighbors. He shifts his gaze to glance at the house nearest to his. It is dear to him, too, but for a different reason. This was the house where A-Xian stayed, he thinks fondly.Lan Zhan never knew his name, aside from “A-Xian.” That week, A-Xian had run toward him from that house every morning, in sandals and shorts, waving to Lan Zhan with an artless grin plastered on his face. That face, that smile, lingered in his mind for years. How could Lan Zhan not hope to find him again?That’s not the only reason he bought the house, of course. He remembers this shoreline with fondness, and he’s certain this is the right environment for him to continue writing his books. But there’s also an insistent voice at the back of his head whispering to him. Lan Zhan does not believe in fate, but he does believe in literary symmetry, and that voice has told him, over and over, that if he returns to this place, and if he is patient, A-Xian will return. As he’s making his way up the path from the beach to the street, a torrent of sound hits his ears like the crash of a gong. Music, coming from A-Xian’s house—his neighbor’s house, he resolutely thinks, it’s not A-Xian’s house anymore—and Lan Zhan is nearly blown sideways onto the dunes with the sheer force of the volume. Lan Zhan can only hear and feel the relentless pound of the bass. Everything treble, any singer or instrument, is drowned out by that constant bumping and buzzing. Lan Zhan grimaces as he approaches his door, thankful that no writer worth their salt is without a good pair of noise-canceling headphones.He puts things away for a while, then goes back into town to do some grocery shopping. He returns at sunset, puts his groceries away, and steps onto his front porch to better view the sinking sun and the scattering of purple clouds at the horizon. The sun is rich orange, like a melting yolk, sizzling down behind the nestle of houses at the west end of town. A surge of satisfaction rolls through Lan Zhan. Yes. Sunsets like this, the sound of the ocean, the feel of sand between his toes …. This is why he’s here, to experience these things. Already the words are swimming in his head. He will be able to write here.The music from the next house has thankfully subsided for the evening, and Lan Zhan puts on his own music instead as he makes dinner. The guqin’s sound is low and resonant, and it brings Lan Zhan always to that place before words, before birth perhaps, a place of deep emotion and sensation where thoughts do not interfere. It is from this place that he likes to write. Words float in that universe, like lush fruit hanging low from trees. He can pluck from the abundant orchard of words, string together sentences and paragraphs and whole chapters as he likes. Someday, they will meet reality in the form of an editor’s red pen. But for now they’re all his, and he can do anything he pleases with them.Dinner, and then he sits at his laptop and opens his manuscript. It’s the next book in the Cloud Recesses series, this one tentatively titled A-Qing and the Blind Priest. Lan Zhan is proud of the characters he’s created, but somehow the story just isn’t coming together. He’s created a villain who’s a vibrant, chaotic character, and the villain’s interactions with the blind priest are some of his best work, he thinks. But he’s increasingly unable to see a happy ending for this story. He imagines a reader, somewhere, finishing the book and hurling it to the floor. “I didn’t sign up for this!” his reader laments. But the more Lan Zhan writes, the more he can only see tragedy coming for these characters. He writes for at least two hours. The music comes to the end of the playlist and leaves the room in silence but for the clattering of Lan Zhan’s fingers on the keys. It’s dark outside, a clear night. Lan Zhan has dreamed of a night like this often, stars beaming buttonholes in the sky unpolluted by city lights. He rises from his seat and steps out onto his porch without turning on the light.This sky. This is another reason he came here.
“I saw a shooting star last night,” A-Xian says, pointing at the constellations in the eastern sky. “Right… there.” He gestures, and Lan Zhan follows the movement. “Don’t you think the stars there look like a pinwheel?”

“That’s Hercules,” Lan Zhan says quietly.

“What?”

“The constellation. Hercules.” Lan Zhan points too, tracing with his finger the image of the strongman in the sky. “Those are his arms, and that’s his leg.”

“Where the line of stars is?” A-Xian squints.

“There,” Lan Zhan confirms. There’s something like confidence rising in him now, and he does what he’s never done before: he shows off. “Do you see the diamond up at the top of the sky? That one’s called Lyra, and the blue star over there is called Vega.”

He steals a look at A-Xian, hoping for some reaction. A-Xian’s been a know-it-all all day, telling Lan Zhan stories about the sea and pirate treasures and giant turtles. Lan Zhan’s just trying to show he knows some things, too.

He doesn’t expect the look of utter admiration he gets. A-Xian is open-mouthed, his eyes two glittering stars themselves. “That’s so cool,” he breathes. “Tell me about the rest of them.”

Lan Zhan’s frozen, staring at this wide-eyed A-Xian. His pulse is running high in his throat, and he thinks he might be feverish. Nobody should be allowed to be this beautiful. He sucks in a breath, tries to cool down his unruly system. He has never felt this way, and it’s terrifying. But he can’t seem to look away.

“Come on,” A-Xian presses. “Tell me.”

Oh, he will. If that’s what A-Xian wants, he’ll give him the whole sky.

“Start at the North Star,” he says, willing his heart to stop stuttering. “That bright one, right there. Now follow the line up to find the Big Dipper…”
Lan Zhan’s still following the constellations around the spring sky. This early, Hercules and Lyra haven’t risen yet; Virgo and Leo dominate the sky right now, and the long-tailed Hydra. Lan Zhan’s gaze traces from star to star, mentally building titans in the sky and listening to the constant, calming sound of the waves, the soft brush of the night breeze. He hasn’t made a mistake in coming here, this he knows.And then, abruptly, another sound joins the quiet symphony. It’s the sound of a flute of some sort, coming from far away but distinctly audible. As Lan Zhan listens, it plays melodies both haunting and erratic, sometimes shrill as a piccolo, sometimes with the soft gentleness of a pan flute. He lets the music wash over him like an inspiration. Words come slipping into his mind, words about loneliness and longing, about being a lone bright sound in the surrounding silence. The flute plays on, and Lan Zhan quietly thrills to it.He doesn’t know when he starts walking, but after some hazy lost time, he finds himself on the beach, following the sound. That’s right, he thinks dully, someone must be playing this music. But where? The houses that line the beach are dark. The boardwalk is empty. And the beach itself is a sea of black but for the light of a crescent moon. Still Lan Zhan continues to wander, tolerating the pain when a stone or piece of driftwood turns under his feet. At last he finds himself at the edge of the beach, at the foot of a raised pier that stretches out over the water. He remembers this pier; it was crumbling even when he was a child here, and on the far side is an outcropping of rocks that goes on for miles. Carefully, feeling maybe possessed, Lan Zhan steps up the slight ramp and onto the near edge of the pier. The wood creaks under his feet.The moonlight shines onto something in the darkness, a flash of light. For an instant, Lan Zhan can see the figure of a man, at the far, far end of the pier, and he’s holding a flute to his lips. Then the vision is gone again, as quickly as it came. Lan Zhan steps backward off the pier and back down the ramp onto the sand. He’d thought, briefly, of running down the length of the pier to meet this madman, trilling melodies on the edge of darkness. And a madman he must be, because Lan Zhan can’t think of a single reason why anyone sane would walk the uneven and rotting slats of this pier, much less with nothing but moonlight to guide him. He goes home, sleeps, and dreams of otherworldly music.He wakes up before the sunrise, as usual. His normal practice is to get up, take a walk, have something to eat, and meditate, although the meditation often turns into a nap. Today he follows his routine and steps out back to take his walk, enjoying the beach underfoot as the sun climbs over the horizon, then settling down on his mat and focusing on his breathing.He might doze then, or perhaps he was just deep in a meditative state. All he knows is that when the doorbell chimes, it jars his senses as though he’s been shaken awake. The doorbell rings again, insistent. Lan Zhan sighs, considers his routine broken, and stumbles in bare feet to the door.“Hi, remember me?” Wei Ying’s eyes sparkle in the new daylight. His hand is outstretched. And he’s smiling that sunny smile again -- the one that sent Lan Zhan into a fit of nostalgia yesterday at the restaurant. It’s like being hit by a tsunami, facing this much brightness and energy all at once. Lan Zhan blinks as though he’s been momentarily blinded.“Anyway, hi, it’s me, Wei Ying, from Lotus Pier? Come on, get some shoes on and follow me. The whole town’s waiting to meet you!”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Lan Zhan came here for calm, for silence and solitude and serenity, and this is very much not it. He’s being dragged down the street by the wrist. In front of him, Wei Ying happily narrates like a tour guide, not caring how much noise he makes. Lan Zhan follows, dumbly, concentrating on keeping his feet moving, unable to think of a word to say.“So this block is where we all live. Well, I shouldn’t say that. I don’t live there. Anymore. We used to all pile into the same house, but you know, we’re grownups, we need our own place. I managed to score a place by the water, which is nice. But my brother lives in that house, and my sister is the house on the corner. Oh, and on the next block are the Jins. The lawyer and the real estate mogul. You’ll hear about them a lot. I don’t like either of them much, but especially Jin Zixuan. He’s weirdly obsessed with my sister’s soup.”It’s like that the whole way, down three blocks, over the main drag, and all the way to the diner where Lan Zhan is, at this point, expecting to be ambushed. A horde of Wei Yings, here to talk his ears off. He steels himself before following Wei Ying in.It’s not exactly an ambush, but it’s close. In a corner of the restaurant, he sees about a half-dozen people are gathered around a corner booth that stretches around in a U shape. Lan Zhan recognizes some of them. When Wei Ying walks in, they all start talking at once.“I got out of bed early for this.”“I thought you were never going to get here. Especially since…”“...you arranged the whole thing, and you just keep us waiting?”“So, what is it? What’s the surprise?”Lan Zhan feels at once a surge of empathy for these people. He, too, has been victimized by Wei Ying. (He puts aside the mental voice telling him it wasn’t all bad—that he rather, despite himself, enjoyed the babbling. And also Wei Ying’s face. Especially his face.)Wei Ying ushers him forward. Abruptly, the table quiets. One of the two women there—the sister from the restaurant—immediately brightens with a polite smile. The other woman there he also remembers from the restaurant, sitting now as she did then next to a young man with the face of an eager boy. She does not smile. Lan Zhan likes her already.There’s also a man there who is not smiling. He’s the brother from the restaurant, and Lan Zhan immediately dislikes him. Next to him is the fellow named Husaisang from the souvenir store, who nods at Lan Zhan politely. Seven in all, including Lan Zhan. It’s the exact size of gathering that Lan Zhan dreads, and he bites back the urge to swallow nervously as Wei Ying takes him by the wrist (sudden, too-warm contact) and begins his speech to those assembled.“Everyone! Okay! Hi, good morning, Jiang Cheng please don’t make that face in front of our guest. Anyway, I said I had a surprise and here he is! Just moved from the big city, this is ... “ He pauses and turns to Lan Zhan, tilting his head. “....I just realized I never got your name.”“Lan Zhan,” he offers politely, and gives the table at large an abbreviated bow. “It’s nice to meet you all.”“Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying echoes, recognition in his voice, as the boy-faced young man across the table bursts out, “Lan Zhan? The author?”Oh, dear. Perhaps Lan Zhan should have chosen an alias to go into seclusion with. The young man fumbles with a satchel he has slung beside him and fishes something out. “I have your book! Could you sign it?”It is, indeed, a worn paperback copy of Sizhui and the Ghost General. Lan Zhan nods—what else can he do? Flee from the restaurant at breakneck pace? “Of course.”Wei Ying squishes himself into the booth with the others, shoving half of them further in so he can create more space for Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan sits, gingerly, a little afraid to be this close to so many other people. Wei Ying doesn’t give him any such space. He immediately spreads out, knee knocking Lan Zhan’s under the table and arm bleeding warmth into Lan Zhan’s. Lan Zhan continues to be confused as to whether he is enjoying this.“So! Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying says the name with a flippant, sing-song air. “So. These are my siblings, my fabulous sister Jiang Yanli, and my so-so brother, Jiang Cheng.” Jiang Cheng scowls at this, as he seems to do at everything. Lan Zhan makes the mental connection that Wei Ying is the third sibling Husaisang had mentioned in connection with Lotus Pier. His features are markedly different from the others; he must be adopted, Lan Zhan figures. Wei Ying goes on. “And this here is Nie Huaisang.” He indicates toward the man from the souvenir shop. “He runs the souvenir place, so he sees everyone who comes and goes in this town. He knows everything that’s happening.”“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nie Huaisang says airily. “Nobody talks to me. I don’t know anything.”Wei Ying shoots him a knowing look. “Mm-hm. And these are the Wen siblings, Wen Qing is our resident doctor, she’s seen all of us naked.” Wen Qing’s eyes flicker toward Wei Ying; he just laughs. “And Wen Ning, who works on the boardwalk when it’s tourist season. His cotton candy is spectacular.”Wen Ning nods, flushed, and looks again at his faded copy of Sizhui and the Ghost General like it’s a mountain of gold.“So this is basically the whole town,” Wei Ying says, turning bodily toward Lan Zhan. His knee is now knocking against Lan Zhan’s thigh. It’s distracting.“This isn’t half the whole town,” Jiang Cheng says with a note of annoyance. “I notice you didn’t call the Jins.” At the name, Jiang Yanli takes in a breath as though surprised to hear it mentioned.“Of course I didn’t call those two peacocks,” Wei Ying retorts. “I want to be able to eat my breakfast.”“A-Ying!” Jiang Yanli bursts out, and then immediately covers her mouth.His mention of breakfast is prophetic; at this point, a pair of waitresses come bearing huge platters of food. Before long, the table is heavily laden with breakfast foods of all sorts—fluffy slices of French toast, a stack of pancakes as tall as Lan Zhan’s laptop, a pile of steaming potatoes cut into cubes, a pot and mugs full of rich black coffee. Wei Ying immediately pulls over a mug and starts to pour. He offers it to Lan Zhan, who gently demurs with the wave of one hand. Wei Ying takes the mug for himself. “So now that we’ve all introduced ourselves,” he says after a swig (You introduced everyone for them, Lan Zhan thinks), “it’s your turn. Come on, Lan Zhan the famous writer, tell us all about yourself.”Lan Zhan freezes. He had assumed that Wei Ying would carry the conversation and that he’d be expected to do little more than nod and shake some hands. But now the entire table has turned toward him, and while Lan Zhan can handle situations like this, it doesn’t come easily. He turns on his public persona as best he can in these surprise circumstances. “I was born and raised in Gusu,” he says. “My family came to the United States when I was eleven. I studied English my whole life, and went to school to study literature. Now I write novels and some poetry. Thank you all for your welcome.”There. That’s it. His standard bio, paraphrased from so many times of telling and writing it before. It’s professional and polite and doesn’t go into too much detail. This is the Lan Zhan he prefers to present to others; it’s so easily accepted.And it seems to be accepted this time, by almost everyone, but both Wen Ning and Wei Ying seem unsatisfied. Wen Ning raises his hand like a child in a classroom. “Can I ask you?” he says with nervous enthusiasm. “How did you come up with your ideas for the Cloud Recesses series? Sizhui is such—such a great character, and the Ghost General is so badass. How did you think of them?”It’s hard not to find something endearing in the way his eyes shine. Lan Zhan lets his guard drop for just a moment. “I was inspired by classical Chinese tales,” he says carefully. “I’m happy to see they are being read by American audiences.”“Come on, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, jabbing him with an elbow. “Give him more than that.”A bristle of irritation flares up in Lan Zhan’s chest and fades again. This Wei Ying is just overly familiar with everyone; Lan Zhan might as well not waste his energy taking offense at it. He digs for some more detail to provide Wen Ning. “Sizhui, I imagine, is the son I never had,” he says. “As for the Ghost General, his origin story is rather tragic, but I wanted to take someone who had been through pain and injustice and turn him into a benevolent character.”“Ohh,” Wen Ning says, both his eyes and his mouth round with awe. Wei Ying laughs and claps his hands. “All further questions can wait until Lan Zhan has a chance to eat breakfast. Are you sure you don’t want coffee?”“I’d prefer tea,” Lan Zhan says, keeping his voice as even and unaffected as he can. His heart is jumping wildly all over his chest at all this attention and conversation, which means he needs to be careful not to embarrass himself. Wei Ying, on the other hand, is not afraid of embarrassment. He stands up and hollers, “Hey, A-Qin! Can we get some tea for my good friend here?” He claps a hand onto Lan Zhan’s shoulder. Lan Zhan can count on one hand the number of times someone unrelated to him has done that. His blood zings faster, and his arms and legs start to feel tingly. That’s a lot of warmth all of a sudden. Breakfast is a lively affair from then on. Lan Zhan learns more about Sandy Point than he ever expected to. (Nie Huaisang’s brother is apparently the sheriff in town, and when tourist season starts, that’s when his job gets difficult; there’s a loudmouth named Yao, and nobody likes him; et cetera.) But more interesting than what he learns is what he observes. Jiang Yanli goes quiet whenever talk turns to the Jin family. Jiang Cheng’s whole demeanor changes when he addresses Wen Qing—his words come softer, and he loses the scowl. Wen Qing responds coolly to him. Nie Huaisang rarely speaks but is clearly listening intently the whole time. Wen Ning sometimes blows bubbles in his chocolate milk while the others converse.Sometime after the table is cleared, the check awkwardly separated, and Wen Ning’s book signed, Wei Ying declares festivities over for the morning. “Gotta get dressed for work,” he says, indicating his ragged T-shirt that says “DISASTER BISEXUAL” in big red letters—not a suitable outfit, Lan Zhan assumes, for waiting tables at Lotus Pier. The group makes its slow way out of the cramped booth and out the front door. Wen Qing and Wen Ning head in one direction (Jiang Cheng offers to walk them home; Wen Qing ignores him) and Jiang Yanli in another; Nie Huaisang flutters his fan and disappears in the direction of the souvenir shop. Lan Zhan says a polite goodbye and turns to head back home. A few yards later, he realizes he’s not alone. Wei Ying is tailing him, strolling idly a few feet behind. When Lan Zhan turns his head, Wei Ying offers a wave and hurries to catch up with him. “Seems like you’re going my way,” he says, even though Lan Zhan sees it differently—Wei Ying is going his way.They walk together for a few blocks without Wei Ying speaking further. In the absence of his chatter, Lan Zhan finds himself glancing over every so often. Wei Ying’s profile is noble: a sharp nose and a spill of dark hair around his shoulders, and his mouth seems permanently curved into a smile. Perhaps it’s natural. Perhaps Wei Ying was born smiling. Lan Zhan likes the idea. It would be fitting.They turn a corner. Wei Ying starts humming idly. He kicks at pebbles and a crumpled soda can on the sidewalk. Lan Zhan should be annoyed—even without speaking, Wei Ying finds a way to be loud and noticeable. But there’s something so appealing about the tune, and the way Wei Ying’s eyes sparkle when he achieves a good kick— there’s something in Lan Zhan that is melting. Snow thaws into dew, flowers perk upward toward the sun. He doesn’t mind this company. He would be happy to walk all the way home like this, Wei Ying a joyful presence by his side.He doesn’t expect Wei Ying to actually walk all the way home with him.At the last corner before home, Lan Zhan turns to him and says, ignoring a nervous fluttering in his chest, “I thought you were going home.”“I am,” Wei Ying says cheerfully. He hooks a thumb in the direction of the neighboring house. “Didn’t I mention?” he says lightly. “I live next door.”Lan Zhan draws in a short breath. That’s A-Xian’s old house. This Wei Ying, this carefree, confident person who’s divebombed into his life, lives where A-Xian used to. The thought of someone, anyone, else being in A-Xian’s space is upsetting, but if it’s going to be anyone, he supposes Wei Ying likely is the appropriate person. Loud, brash, unashamed … he’s everything A-Xian used to be. For a half-moment, Lan Zhan considers a possibility. Maybe he should ask—but no. He has never been that lucky, and nothing in his life would ever come that easily. “You were the one playing music yesterday?” he asks, for lack of anything better to say.“Oh!” Wei Ying giggles, but the laugh is full of nerves. “Too much? Too loud? I’ll try to keep it down if it’s bothering you.” “It’s fine,” Lan Zhan says flatly, because it is—that’s what his headphones are for.But Wei Ying insists. “No, really! I’ll keep it down. It’s just me being me, sometimes I forget there are other people around me, and of course that house has been empty for a little while, so…”“It’s all right. I don’t mind.” Lan Zhan hasn’t known this Wei Ying for a day, and already it seems terribly important that he never compromise who he is for anybody. “Would you like to come over?”Wei Ying lights up. “Sure! I can only stay a few minutes, but I’ll have a cup of coffee or something.”“I only have tea,” Lan Zhan says as he comes to his front door and ushers Wei Ying inside.Wei Ying takes a quick look around the place before perching himself on one of the chairs. “I’ll make do.”Lan Zhan sets the kettle on the burner. “Thank you,” he says, “for your introductions today.”“Not a problem. Like I said, everyone wanted to meet you. Yesterday that truck coming down the street was all anyone could talk about.”Lan Zhan takes a minute to process how this makes him feel. Even as an author, he’s been relatively reclusive; being at the center of other people’s attention has never sat well with him. He does his job and finds satisfaction in that. He can’t dwell on it too long, however, because in another second Wei Ying is up and wandering around Lan Zhan’s space like he belongs there. He stands in front of the bookcases, arms crossed, and nods sagely. He finds the cabinet where Wangji sits and turns to Lan Zhan with shining eyes. “Do you play? Of course you play, why else would you have it? Ah, it’s so good to find another musician in this town! I’ll bring over my dizi and we can duet sometime.”Dizi? A light goes on in Lan Zhan’s mind. The teakettle shrieks as though in agreement. “I heard someone playing a flute last night. On the beach.”“Oh, god, you heard that?” Wei Ying flushes, but there’s still laughter at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, sorry, that was me. I guess I’ll have to rein it in now that I have a neighbor.”Lan Zhan tries to reconcile the image of this eternally sunny Wei Ying with the ghostly figure playing tunes haunting at best and chaotic at worst. But the reality of the situation is more pressing. “You were standing,” he says gravely, “at the end of the pier. In the darkness.”“You saw me?”It’s Lan Zhan’s turn to flush. “I happened to be there,” he lies. “That’s dangerous. Please be careful.”The laughter spills from Wei Ying’s lips. “Oh, don’t worry about that, Lan Zhan. I’ve lived on the water my whole life. I know that pier like the back of my hand. I know exactly where it ends; it’s not like I’m going to trip backwards and fall in.”Lan Zhan frowns. He dips a teabag into Wei Ying’s mug and hands it over. “Regardless,” he says. “Be careful.”Wei Ying does a three-finger salute with his free hand as he takes the mug. “I promise I’ll be careful,” he says.“But,” and Lan Zhan doesn’t know what possesses him to say this, “please don’t stop on my account.”Wei Ying pauses mid-sip and gazes at him. Lan Zhan meets his gaze, mostly because he’s not sure how not to, and something happens in that moment, with their eyes locked. Lan Zhan feels himself falling forward, like it’s he who has lost his balance on the far side of the pier. He’s less sure of everything, but he never wants this eye contact to end. Something about Wei Ying is pulling him in like the tide.Maybe he should ask. It seems so unlikely, but…“Do you,” he starts, carefully, “do you happen to know someone named Xian? A-Xian?”A moment of surprise paints Wei Ying’s face. And then, just for an instant, a kind of darkness passes over his features. It’s gone so quickly that Lan Zhan thinks he’s imagined it.Wei Ying shrugs casually, and the smile returns to his face. “Don’t think so. Sorry.”Of course. Lan Zhan was a fool to even consider it. “Never mind.”After Wei Ying leaves to get dressed for work, Lan Zhan takes a shower and finds a pair of swim trunks from the bottom drawer. There is one place he wants to visit that can’t be reached from land, and now seems the perfect time to revisit it. He strides barefoot out the back door and onto the beach, making quick work of the quarter-mile it takes to reach the pier. In broad daylight, it’s less ominous than at night, but just as decrepit as Lan Zhan remembers, with splintering slats of wood at uneven distances from each other, some of them turned almost comically diagonal. Thinking of Wei Ying traversing this terrain without the aid of even a flashlight makes Lan Zhan bristle like a cat. He doesn’t even want to think about it.Where he’s going today, however, is beyond the pier. On the far side of the pier, the beach gives way to rock cliffs, giant formations of stone that hide crags and small caves and tidepools. There’s one area in particular that he’s hoping he can still find, a flat slab of rock that’s shielded from view by great stone walls. The tourists don’t swim here. Until that summer, Lan Zhan is pretty sure no one knew it existed.
“Today I’m going to take you to my secret place,” A-Xian says. “Nobody knows about it but me. But I’m gonna take you there if you can keep a secret, okay?”

Lan Zhan nods eagerly. A secret hiding place and the two of them—it sounds amazing. His heart skips giddily.

“You gotta swim there. You do know how to swim, right?” Lan Zhan answers in the affirmative, and A-Xian grins wider. “You just follow me. We gotta swim to the other side of the pier. Don’t go too far out! You go too far out and the current’s gonna get you. Just stay right behind me.”

It’s a bit of a swim, under the old pier and away from the beach area toward the rocks, and Lan Zhan is breathing hard as he keeps his head above water to follow A-Xian. Then A-Xian moves toward one of the rocks and slips out of sight. It takes Lan Zhan a minute to discover the opening through which he’s disappeared. When he does, he finds himself stepping up onto a flat stone. It’s big and smooth and even, and the rocks that rise up around it make a circular wall, just tall enough to hide them from view.

He stands in the middle, turning around a few times in this unusual space, a hideaway so perfect he wants to believe someone carved it into the coastline just for them. From this vantage point, all he can see is sea and sky. It’s like the rest of the world has fallen away. Sea and sky and A-Xian beside him, planting himself down in the middle of the enclosure. “See? We could stay here forever and no one would know how to find us.”

Lan Zhan thinks he very likely could stay here forever, if A-Xian is there to talk to. He sits down gingerly next to him. “What do you do here?”

A-Xian shrugs. “Think. Talk. I can sing out loud here and nobody would hear me. What would you do, if you knew no one was looking?”
Lan Zhan steps into the water. It fills in around him like a chilly embrace. It’s April, and the water here is frigid even in the summer. But he can’t even think of waiting until a warmer month to visit the hideaway. He has to see it with his own two eyes as soon as he can. To make sure it’s still there. To make sure his memories aren’t some kind of a distant fever dream. To confirm that A-Xian is real.He makes it out to about chest high and eases into a smooth, even breaststroke, never letting his head get submerged so he can see his destination without the sting of salt water in his eyes. Past the pier, he watches the rocks carefully, looking for that smooth wall of stone, the narrow opening. It’s there before he expects it; was it always this close to the beach? The swim seemed so much longer when he was a thirteen-year-old boy. Regardless. It’s here. He’s found it. It really exists.He glides in through the opening and finds his footing on the stone slab, hoisting himself up to sit. Joy bursts through him, unbearable fondness. It’s just as he remembers, although he’s now grown tall enough that the walls don’t hide him completely. He finds his way to the very center and sits with his legs crossed, his eyes turned up toward the sky. He’s finally here again. He tells himself he’s going to meditate, but he knows really what he’s going to do: close his eyes, listen to the sound of the sea lapping at the rocks, and remember.
The stars spread out across the night sky, familiar patterns giving shape to the chaos of the Milky Way. A-Xian is dutifully pointing and regurgitating the names of the constellations that Lan Zhan had taught him earlier. Lan Zhan’s whole body is humming with the happiness of being here, lost at sea to everyone but the boy beside him. He breathes in and feels the whole universe pass through him.

He lied to Uncle tonight. He said he was going to stay over at A-Xian’s place. A-Xian says he told his parents he’d be at Lan Zhan’s. Lan Zhan is a little shocked at himself, but the idea of swimming out here for his last night with A-Xian was irresistible. After a week spent with this fascinating, beautiful boy, Lan Zhan is sure he would break a million more rules just to steal more time with him. And with the contentment he’s feeling now, he knows it was worth it.

A-Xian flops onto his side, one bent arm holding his head up, and says, out of the blue, “Hey. Have you ever kissed a girl?”

Lan Zhan draws in a breath through his nose. He’s suddenly, acutely anxious. “No,” he says carefully. “Have you?”

A-Xian laughs. “Sure. I’ve kissed dozens of girls. Hundreds.”

“You’re joking.”

“Right, right. Only a few dozen, maybe.” He’s still joking around, but a current of bitterness zings through Lan Zhan. He doesn’t want to think about A-Xian kissing some girl.

“You know what I’ve never done, though?”

Mind still blank but for the image of A-Xian kissing girls, Lan Zhan blinks at him. “What?”

A-Xian sits up and sidles up close. It’s dark, but Lan Zhan can see the reflection of the moon in his eyes.

“I’ve never,” he says in a low, breathy voice, “kissed a boy.”

Lan Zhan stares. The moonlight illuminates just enough: apple-round cheeks, crescent smile, lips slightly parted. Even in the quiet night, A-Xian’s beauty is heart-stopping. Lan Zhan forgets to breathe. He almost doesn’t notice the distance between them slipping away.

His first kiss is gentle. Pure. Like moonlight. No. Like the Milky Way. Stars fall all through him.

They break apart, and in the darkness, their breaths rasp close together. Lan Zhan can feel A-Xian’s exhalation, knows A-Xian can hear and feel the shakiness of his own breath when he lets it out.

“Yeah,” A-Xian whispers, trailing his fingers against the skin of Lan Zhan’s arm. “Yeah. That was nice.”

“Nice” doesn’t begin to describe everything Lan Zhan feels in that moment. He is sure his life has changed forever.
Those days were full of A-Xian. A-Xian as sunlight, A-Xian as stars. Lan Zhan was blinded by his light. His laughter rang in Lan Zhan’s ears -- his laughter and the sound of Lan Zhan’s own pulse, beating high in his throat. He would follow that light anywhere. He would be anything A-Xian wanted him to be, just to keep him close. Lan Zhan fell in love the way a wave crashes to earth, powerfully and inevitably. It left his ears ringing and his head fuzzy.Even now, he is still chasing that feeling. If getting over A-Xian means moving forward, growing up, he doesn’t want to. He has folded that flower of emotion in his breast and carefully watered it day after day, year after year. And now he’s finally in the place that’s been calling to him all these years. He knows it with a certainty he’s never had about anything else in his life: He will find his A-Xian again.Back at home, dried off and showered and changed, Lan Zhan is sitting in front of his laptop. His head is starting to throb, the screen brightness making his eyes itch. He’s working on the outline for A-Qing and the Blind Priest again, but it’s not holding together. He doesn’t see the Blind Priest figuring out the villain’s identity and stopping him; it would throw the logic of the whole story off. Perhaps he needs another character who could figure it out? A companion to the Blind Priest? But he can’t just be there through the whole story—it would give the villain away too soon. Perhaps if they had been separated somehow and the companion had been looking for him ever since…But the companion can’t be the one to fell the villain. That honor should belong to his title characters—could the companion return and warn them? Lan Zhan is beginning to think that this story, as clever as the conceit is, just doesn’t have the kind of ending that his audiences will appreciate. And being at the cove today—alone with his thoughts and memories—thrilling to the endlessness of the ocean and the sky—Lan Zhan closes his document and starts a new one. There’s another story he wants to write…
He never got his second kiss. His last memory of A-Xian is of him leaning out the window of his parents’ minivan, yelling down the street as it drives away:

“Don’t forget me!”

Lan Zhan won’t. He swears, at that moment, in his heart:
I’ll never love anyone else. I will wait for A-Xian. Even if that means I wait forever.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Sunrise over the water is a grand re-creation. Lan Zhan has always seen dawn as a fundamentally creative act on the part of the universe: light rushes in to illuminate what has been hidden in the darkness, color seeps back into objects that had been rendered drained and dull by the night. The clouds go from misty white to muted purple; the horizon fills in crimson and then orange and then pale yellow. Everything that has been still and dead in the night awakens again, renewed, repainted, and ready for a day that has never been before and will never come again. The beach and the boardwalk hold their breath, waiting for something living to break the stillness and inject bright life into them.Lan Zhan watches through somewhat bleary eyes and the steam rising from his mug of tea. He was up far too late last night writing, and he would have slept in if he knew how. The early morning wake is ingrained in him through years of strict enforcement, but the cobwebs of the late night remain. He sips his tea and tries to blink them aside. But the excitement of having an idea, having words, putting them down! He could not have gone to sleep last night if he’d tried; the story he’s creating keeps speaking to him, whispering ideas for conversations or descriptions into his head. He breathes in story; he exhales words. These are the best moments, when the story just lives.He’s writing a coming-of-age novel—or, at least, that’s what it seems to want to be; the story is calling the shots. Two headstrong boys, stranded on an island after a storm washes out the bridges. Making their way without electricity, without support, building a life until the storm is gone and the rest of the world remembers them.The boys’ names are A-Yuan and A-Ling. Lan Zhan is cheating a little, copying himself, because “Yuan” is Sizhui’s birth name, and this character has the same moral core and sense of righteousness. A-Ling is completely new, though—strong-willed, arrogant, and prideful, but with just enough vulnerability to make him likable. The two boys have been leaping through Lan Zhan’s head all week, shouting at each other and grudgingly engaging in teamwork to stay alive, warm, and dry. Lan Zhan loves them both wholeheartedly.So this morning is a good one. Lan Zhan watches the beach at sunrise and is grateful to the universe that gave him that gift, that gives him a new gift every morning.The scene needs music. Lan Zhan sets his mug on the ironwork table and steps inside to take Wangji out. Back on the porch, he settles the instrument on the table and plucks out some gentle, lingering notes. The same energy that propels his stories sends him a melody, one Lan Zhan has never heard before this moment. It pours from the guqin like an appreciative prayer to the heavens.For long minutes, the world is just music, and the burning of his fingers as he plucks the strings, and the sunlight beating onto his closed eyelids. The melody is taking him further, into something unstructured and uninhibited by the normal form of a song, just chords following chords with no destination in mind. It’s like seeing forever, listening to the strains of a song with no ending. Lan Zhan could float out to sea like this and not even notice.He notices, though, when he realizes he’s not the only one playing. Another instrument has joined his—a flute, skillfully improvising a melody over his chords. It starts distant, but as Lan Zhan plays, and the flute’s melody responds to every chord change, the sound comes closer. Lan Zhan lets it drift to right in front of him before opening his eyes.Wei Ying stands at the porch steps, his eyes locked onto Lan Zhan’s, a beautiful black dizi lifted to his lips. An appearance as natural and inevitable as the sun rising. Lan Zhan gazes at him, feeling as though something has been completed, some chord resolved. Then he lowers his gaze and continues to play.And Wei Ying follows, pursed lips just showing the barest signs of a smile trying to break through. His dark eyes sparkle. The music goes on. Lan Zhan doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t need to. Wei Ying is already talking to him through the notes. They build the song together, listening to each other, and when they find the end they lay it down together and gaze at each other for a silent moment.Lan Zhan’s heart is pounding. He can’t look away. Music can be a transcendent experience, but this was visceral, this was physical in a way he hasn’t felt before. Even when he averts his eyes, he can feel a thread of connection between them, tenuous but undeniably there.Wei Ying breaks the silence first. “That was fun, wasn’t it?” he says. “We should do that again.”It was one thing to hear Wei Ying say he was the flute player, but it’s another to see him with the flute in hand. Wei Ying doesn’t show it, but the melody he played just now had just enough darkness to it that Lan Zhan can believe he was that figure on the pier that first night. He wonders what that darkness is in Wei Ying.Wei Ying walks around the table to take a look at Wangji. His fingers skim the sculpted wooden edges of the instrument, and just barely brush over the strings, causing the guqin to sound a low, neutral chord. “She’s beautiful,” he says. “How long have you been playing?”“‘He,’” Lan Zhan corrects without meaning to. He adds, “All my life.”“‘He’!” Wei Ying laughs, a sound much sunnier than the dark notes of the flute. The heaviness of the encounter lifts, and Lan Zhan finds himself relaxing. “Pardon me, I stand corrected. He’s a good boy.” He pats the back of the guqin like it’s a dog. “Tell me. If you know his gender, you must have named him. Am I right?”A flush rises to Lan Zhan’s face. His ears heat up. “Yes,” he says, and it feels like admitting to a crime. Such a childlike pastime, naming instruments. “His name is Wangji.”“Wangji,” Wei Ying muses aloud, chewing on the name. “It’s good. Very manly and upright. It suits him.” He grins, and the grin feels like validation. Lan Zhan’s minor guilt fades. Of course, it must be fine that a grown adult has named his guqin, if someone like Wei Ying approves of it. “And yours?” he asks.“Ah.” Wei Ying goes a little red himself. He taps the flute against the table lightly. “This is Chenqing.”It’s an intriguing name. “Meaning ‘Old Flame’?”Wei Ying nods. “Everyone’s got one.” He sits down on one of the chairs, and Lan Zhan notes with surprise that he’s not angry about it. A week ago he would have considered it rude and an imposition for someone to step onto his property and make themselves at home, but not today. Wei Ying already asked for permission through a melody, and Lan Zhan opened to him with the chords beneath. Wei Ying is welcome.Lan Zhan goes inside briefly to bring Wei Ying some tea from the still-steaming kettle. Wei Ying takes a long sip, eyes boring into Lan Zhan’s over the mug. Lan Zhan’s not sure what’s in that gaze, but it’s intense and he can’t bring himself to break eye contact.Wei Ying sets the mug on the table. “I was thinking,” he says. “We have a little stage at Lotus Pier for live shows. Could we get you to play your—play Wangji for us some night? It’s not the type of show we normally have, but I definitely shouldn’t be the only one to hear you play.”“Oh,” Lan Zhan says, because he’d never considered the possibility. His music is generally for him, another way to channel his creativity. He supposes he’s probably good enough to perform, though he hasn’t done so since guqin recitals in his early teens. Still … “I’d rather play my guitar, then.”He has never seen a pair of eyes grow so starry so fast. “You play guitar?” Wei Ying leans forward, placing both hands on the table. “Lan Zhan … do you sing, too?”“Occasionally.” Lan Zhan finds a smile dawning at the corner of his lips. “I know a few songs.”“That settles it!” Wei Ying pounds one fist on the table. Wangji jumps nervously. “You are going to do a concert for us! Wednesday? Friday? Tell me when is good.”“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, realizing he’s given Wei Ying an opening. “Not yet.”“Not yet? Why not?” Wei Ying tilts his head and squints. “I just heard you play and you were fabulous. Come on, Lan Zhan, don’t deny us your talents! Do you get stage fright? Is that why?”Lan Zhan doesn’t get stage fright. But he still says “Not yet.” How to convey what he means to Wei Ying? This place is still a novelty. He still feels like he’s on an extended vacation and the locals are practically strangers. Once this place starts to feel like home—then he can think about playing for people. Wei Ying pouts. “Not yet,” he agrees reluctantly. “But one of these days.”“One of these days,” Lan Zhan feels comfortable enough saying.Wei Ying goes home after the mug of tea is drained, and Lan Zhan spends a few minutes just gazing at the chair where he’d been. What did Wei Ying take with him, that this space seems so empty now that he’s gone?He’s been eating at home all week, isolating himself so the story can speak to him unfettered, but today Lan Zhan returns to Lotus Pier for lunch. Wei Ying is there to take his order again, and he points out the stage area to Lan Zhan; it’s small, just enough room for two musicians, and unobtrusive, in the corner of the restaurant behind the entrance. Lan Zhan considers what it would be like to perform there. He orders a vegetable dumpling dish and looks around the restaurant after Wei Ying has scurried back to the kitchen.He noticed as soon as he walked in: People are staring at him. Staring, and then whispering.. He looks down to avoid meeting anyone’s eye. What is so interesting about him, that he should draw this kind of attention?A shadow falls across the small table. “Pardon me,” says a woman’s voice. “May I sit?”It’s not the first time Lan Zhan has been approached by a woman. He looks up. “I’m afraid…”“I’ll only be a minute.” It’s a young woman with big, deep eyes and black hair slicked up into a neat bun. Lan Zhan remembers her immediately from the introductory breakfast: this is the doctor, Wen Qing. She sits down without letting him finish his objection. “Lan Zhan, right?”“Yes.” He quite liked her the first time he met her, exactly because she was this straightforward and no-nonsense. He certainly has no objection to her joining him now. “I wanted to thank you.” She gives a small smile. “You made my brother’s week by signing his book. A-Ning won’t let that book out of his sight now. He shows it to everyone. He gets gloomy in the offseason, so I’m grateful you’ve perked him up.”Lan Zhan is never sure what to do with this level of flattery. He bows his head and offers a “You’re welcome.”But Wen Qing just rolls her eyes. “I keep telling him he’s going to ruin the book if he keeps this up, but A-Ning is just that kind of kid.”Lan Zhan wonders at the word “kid.” Wen Ning is clearly in his early twenties, only a handful of years younger than Lan Zhan himself, but his demeanor is surely as sunny as an innocent child’s. He wouldn’t hazard a guess as to why, and it’s certainly not his business to ask, but it strikes him as strange nevertheless.“If you’re wondering,” she says, her gaze direct, “we’re not sure ourselves. It could be trauma from our childhoods, it could be something physical. But A-Ning is the way he is, and I think he’s wonderful. He’s very much loved by all the children who play at the boardwalk during the summer.”“I see.” Lan Zhan is minutely embarrassed that she read his mind so easily. Perhaps it’s the sort of question that gets asked all the time, by people with less discretion.“You haven’t been seen for several days,” Wen Qing goes on. “We haven’t offended you somehow? I know Wei Ying can be a little difficult to take.” Her smile now is confidential, as though she’s discussing a shared secret. “In this town, we notice when someone doesn’t show up for a while. We worried you were ill.” The stares suddenly make a lot more sense. This is just the sort of small-town thing that Lan Zhan will have to learn to deal with. He’s used to the anonymity of a big city, where, unless you’re one of those people who appears in the society pages, nobody notices your presence or absence. He’s enjoyed that invisibility over the years, being able to blend in, to slip out, to shut himself off from the world when the muse was speaking. This town will be different. He wonders briefly if moving was a bad decision.“I have been writing,” he answers, hoping it will be enough of an excuse.“That makes sense,” Wen Qing says. “We’ve had all kinds of artists stay around here, and they often do much the same. But the rumor mill takes no prisoners. I’d suggest you make an appearance every once in a while, just to quell the gossip.”Lan Zhan nods. “Thank you for the advice.”He is considering what to say next when he sees a man walking determinedly toward his table, hands clutched into fists. Lan Zhan remembers his name, too: this is Jiang Cheng, the grouchy one who is Wei Ying’s brother and runs the restaurant. Lan Zhan had disliked him as much as he’d liked Wen Qing on first impression. Still, Jiang Cheng shouldn’t have a complaint with him, should he? Lan Zhan has been isolated for a week; that can’t be what he’s angry at, can it? His mind whirls with confusion.But when Jiang Cheng arrives at the table, his demeanor changes. His eyes go big and bright, and he turns his attention to Wen Qing, ignoring Lan Zhan entirely. “Welcome back, Dr. Wen,” he says, and his voice is as tentative as a schoolboy’s. It takes Lan Zhan no time at all to tell what’s going on. “What would you like to order today?”Before Wen Qing can respond, a too-loud “Jiang Cheng!” comes from a few feet away, and all three of them look down the aisle toward the soundIt’s Wei Ying, and he also looks like he’s about to start a fight. Lan Zhan’s bowl of vegetable dumplings teeters in his upturned hand. “This is my table!”“Buzz off,” Jiang Cheng tells him, in a lowered voice but still loud enough for Lan Zhan to hear. “I’m waiting on Dr. Wen, as usual.”“And I’m waiting on Lan Zhan as usual,” Wei Ying retorts.“You’ve waited on him once.” “Twice now. And this is his food, do you mind?” Wei Ying makes a show of walking around Jiang Cheng like he’s a traffic cone in the middle of a busy street. He arrives, after a few seconds, in front of Lan Zhan, and offers an apology along with the dish. “Please don’t mind my brother,” he says with a wink. “He can be stubborn.” Wei Ying turns then to Wen Qing and says, cheerfully, “What can I get for you today?”“I’ve already asked her that,” Jiang Cheng grumbles. Wen Qing’s brow furrows a little, and she presses her lips tight before drawing in a sigh of a breath. “It’s fine,” she says. “I don’t care who waits on me.”“Dibs!” Wei Ying shouts immediately, like he’s a teenager on a school bus and not a fully grown man.“You--” Jiang Cheng is still angry, but there’s a glint of disappointment in his eyes. He allows Wei Ying to physically push him away. Wen Qing looks at Wei Ying apologetically. “I wasn’t planning on staying,” she says, “but if Mr. Lan doesn’t mind, I’ll have a cup of tea.” Her eyes dart toward Lan Zhan. He can read the question: can we talk some more?“Please.” Lan Zhan gestures toward her place at the table. “Have something to eat as well.”Wei Ying jots her order down and promptly heads toward the kitchen; shortly thereafter Lan Zhan can hear him yelling at Jiang Cheng over the clank of dishes and the hiss of steam. Wen Qing shakes her head, eyes downcast but lips quirking into a smile. Lan Zhan can’t help but smile in return. “This happens often?” he asks, knowing the answer.She sighs, but a fond smile plays about her face. “Jiang Cheng has been trying to get in my pants for the better part of a decade,” she says flatly. “He still thinks he can pull it off, if he’s charming enough.”“And you’re not interested.” She plays with her napkin, slender fingers folding and unfolding the paper. “It’s not that I’m not interested,” she says coolly. “It’s just that it’s been going on so long, and I think if I were ever to say yes, he would fall on the floor dead. It’s become a matter of pride at this point.”What must it be like to be pursued like that? Lan Zhan eyes his plate of dumplings, trying to imagine. He’s been the one pursuing, or at least dreaming of pursuing, for thirteen years. Would A-Xian see him that way, if he found him again? Would he be overjoyed or distressed that Lan Zhan has spent so long dreaming about him? Images leap to mind, a faceless A-Xian, all grown up, looking at him sadly. Ah, Lan Zhan, he says, that was just a teenage crush. Didn’t you know that? You took it seriously? Sorry, but I’ve moved on.Lan Zhan’s heart thuds heavily against his ribs. A bitter taste floods his mouth. He returns his attention to his breathing and concentrates on not letting the distress show.But Wen Qing can tell anyway. “What is it?” she asks. Her tone is blunt, but concern hovers in her eyes.Lan Zhan forces himself to make eye contact and maintain it. “Nothing,” he says. “Pardon me.”“All right,” she says, “I won’t ask. But you’ll need a friend here eventually. Who isn’t Wei Ying,” she adds pointedly. “Someone who will listen.”This seems out of character for her. “Are you volunteering?” he asks.She shrugs. “You were good to A-Ning. That counts for a lot in my book.” As before, her gaze is warmer than her tone.“I appreciate it,” he says, and that seals the deal.Lan Zhan takes Wen Qing’s advice. For the next two weeks, he makes a point of being seen. He reads a book on one of the benches that line Main Street; he takes his morning walk a little later than usual, when the first dog-walkers are up and about; he makes a point to go to Lotus Pier a few times a week.He thinks deeply about each appearance he makes—will this cause gossip, or simply put me on the radar? It feels strangely manipulative at times, this insinuation of himself into the landscape. In the city, being seen is a full-time job, and it’s never a game he’s cared to play. But here it feels like more of a necessity. He’s reaching a hand out into the void each time, hoping someone out in the darkness will clasp it.And it seems, eventually, to work. There’s a lot less staring and a few more friendly smiles. Lan Zhan isn’t the type who returns smiles easily, but he does his best to nod politely in response. Perhaps, over time, he will become like Wei Ying, and smile as freely as he does. Perhaps, someday, he will even feel that freedom again, like he did that one week a decade ago.Today he is being seen at the general store, where he is getting his weekly groceries, and the friendly smile comes from Nie Huaisang. He’s been lurking on a stool behind the cash register, but at Lan Zhan’s appearance, he sweeps himself off the stool and glides into the produce aisle to give Lan Zhan a wave hello.“Settling in well?” he asks.Lan Zhan puts down the head of cabbage he’d been examining. “Yes, thank you.”Nie Huaisang’s eyes narrow. “Rumor has it you’ve been taking lunches with Wen Qing.”He’s sat down with Wen Qing a total of twice since that first conversation, and one of those times, Wen Ning was in tow with a boatload of questions. But Nie Huaisang makes it sound like they’ve been having secret rendezvous behind the boardwalk. Perhaps he’s been more noticeable than he intended.“Don’t look so worried,” Nie Huaisang says with a bright smile. “She’s good people. Wei Ying says the two of you suit each other.”Ah. Wei Ying. So that’s who “rumor” is, in this case. Something in Lan Zhan’s gut turns sour at the thought of Wei Ying assuming the most scandalous. He doesn’t like anybody in town jumping to that conclusion, but he especially doesn’t like it from Wei Ying.“We’re not,” he starts.“Nobody said you are!” Nie Huaisang replies gaily. “Besides, everybody knows Wen Qing will get together with Jiang Cheng eventually. She’s just playing hard-to-get, but she likes him, too. She always has.”That is the same impression that Lan Zhan has, from their few interactions and the way she needles Jiang Cheng when he’s waiting on them. She enjoys getting under Jiang Cheng’s skin too much to truly feel nothing. “Of course, I don’t mean to gossip,” Nie Huaisang’s smile is crooked. “But there are just certain things that, living here, you ought to know. Oh, by the way, are you coming to movie night?”“Movie night?”Nie Huaisang takes this as his cue to start a long, casual stroll around the produce display bins. “Now that it is getting warmer out, it’s only a matter of time until the tourists start coming to town. So us locals like to take advantage of the beach before it gets crowded. The Jiangs have a big projector screen and speakers, so we have a movie night once a year. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it, to be frank.”Lan Zhan has to admit that he probably hasn’t been listening well enough. He’s prided himself on not having an ear to the ground like most of the locals, but perhaps he’s been too aloof. Maybe, in a small town like this, you have to listen. “When is it?” he asks.“Oh, I think next weekend? Friday or Saturday.” Nie Huaisang picks up a peach from the bin and takes a bite. He licks his lips. “You’ll have to ask Wei Ying. He organizes it, for the most part.”And there’s another strange feeling—a flare of disappointment that Wei Ying hasn’t spoken to him about this. Why should he feel that way? Wei Ying waits his table at lunch. He happens to live next door. He has no obligation to invite Lan Zhan anywhere. “I’ll talk to him.”“Yes, definitely, you should do that,” Nie Huaisang slinks back to his stool and grabs a napkin to daub at his face. Lan Zhan can still see the edges of that crooked smile behind it.“Oh, he told you about it already?” Wei Ying pouts. “Damn. I was going to come over and invite you.”Lan Zhan looks up at him from his usual table in surprise. Wei Ying was going to tell him after all. He can’t think of words for why this pleases him so much—but it does, and there’s a lightness in his heart now.  “Actually,” Wei Ying goes on, “I was going to invite you and ask for your help with setting up. All the equipment’s at my place and it’s a pain to do alone.” His pout turns into a shameless smile. He’s practically batting his eyelashes at Lan Zhan. “I see.” Lan Zhan does his best to remain even-tempered. His emotions are doing a number of unruly things that he can’t quite make sense of. First, was that the reason for Wei Ying’s invitation? To use him as hired muscle? His brain is trying to be disappointed at that, but in another corner of his mind, he’s excited. He wants to see Wei Ying’s home. Because it’s A-Xian’s old place, he reminds himself. That’s the only reason he’s curious. It doesn’t have anything to do with knowing where Wei Ying sleeps, where he drinks his morning coffee, what treasures he has on the bookshelves and mantel. Logically, he thinks it’s quite justified to be curious about Wei Ying’s house: after all, he’s an interesting person, he most likely has some interesting decor. But this snap of excitement? That has to be because of the connection to A-Xian. There’s no other possible reason.A week comes and goes, and as the sunset paints bright rays over the dunes on the promised evening, Lan Zhan finds himself walking up the path to Wei Ying’s house with a strange nervous energy roiling in his core. Even though the temperature has been steadily improving, these mid-May nights are still sweater weather. So he’s got a blue sweater tied over his shoulders and a white dress shirt that’s probably too formal for anything on the beach. But he knows, at least, that he looks presentable in this ensemble. He hopes he looks presentable. Why does he care so much about looking presentable?He knocks tentatively on the front door and is greeted with an enormous thud.Then, from somewhere beyond the door: “Ow! I’m coming! I’m fine—I’m coming!” before Wei Ying pulls the door open looking like he’s just stuck his head in the spin cycle. His hair is absolutely everywhere, dark tendrils going every which way, and there’s a big red spot on his face like he’s been leaning on it too long. He gives a shaky half-laugh. “Lan Zhan! I wasn’t expecting you until seven-thirty.”“It is seven-thirty.”“What? It’s—no, really?” He peers at what must be a wall clock behind the half-opened door. “Damn! I’m sorry, I must look like an absolute mess. I was going to clean up nice for you, really.”“You look fine,” Lan Zhan says. Actually, this disheveled, rumpled look on Wei Ying pleases him greatly, and he’s not sure why. He enjoys the slowly fading flush on the side of Wei Ying’s face and the almost-waves in his messy hair. It feels so authentic, so utterly Wei Ying, that Lan Zhan is honestly charmed.“Anyway, come in, come in.” Wei Ying kicks a plastic bag out of the doorway and reaches out to open the storm door. Lan Zhan steps inside.This isn’t what he expected (when did he expect anything?), but he quite likes it. The house is small, one floor, with an open floor plan similar to his own—living area and kitchen and dining area all part of the same space. The bedroom opens directly to the living area, and the door is wide open, revealing a wide bed with black comforter and pillows splayed across it in no semblance of order. The house is cluttered in a way that would usually have Lan Zhan wondering if he is in an episode of Hoarders, but it just seems fitting to Wei Ying somehow. Display cases in the living area are filled to the brim with odd curios, a skull coffee mug and a dragon figurine and one of those glass balls that spits out streaks of lightning when touched. A beanbag chair is tucked in one corner. The dining area contains only a small tea-sized table and two chairs, but it is lined by bookcases; Lan Zhan recognizes some titles of science fiction classics. Dune. Foundation. The kitchen looks like it is barely used.“Make yourself comfortable,” Wei Ying shouts, and promptly shuts himself up in what must be a bathroom. Various noises, including the buzz of an electric shaver and a few curse words, ensue. Lan Zhan busies himself examining the bookshelves. Wei Ying’s taste is eclectic—The Collected Poems of Frank O’Hara sitting next to The Great American Book of Bathroom Humor—but somehow every book fits. There is no sign, Lan Zhan realizes with a twinge of disappointment, of The Cloud Recesses or Sizhui and the Ghost General. Not that Wei Ying has any particular reason to own those books, but why then, when Lan Zhan first introduced himself, did Wei Ying have a visible reaction to the name? Wei Ying comes back through the door, hair mostly combed this time. With a comb run through it a bit, it has a glossy sheen that draws Lan Zhan’s eye. He’s reminded again that Wei Ying is really an uncommonly handsome man. Wei Ying, oblivious to Lan Zhan’s staring, claps his hands. “So! Shall we get started? The projection screen is rolled up back in my room but the projector is in that closet over there.” He instructs Lan Zhan as they pull the equipment out of storage. Wei Ying shrugs a jacket on and they head out to the beach to set up. Lan Zhan finds himself tracking Wei Ying’s movements, the ripple of the corded muscles at his neck as he works, the little satisfied shake of his shoulders he indulges in when he’s finally gotten something exactly where it needs to be. He frowns as he carries, lights up when he’s done. He’s a flickering flame in the beach wind.At last everything is set up, and they wait for everybody to arrive. Wei Ying’s eyes are on Lan Zhan. It’s a funny prickling sort of feeling, to know he’s being watched. Lan Zhan has always found that prickle unpleasant before. Tonight, somehow, it isn’t.“Before everyone gets here,” Wei Ying says, “I wanted to ask you something.”But Lan Zhan isn’t fated to know what he wanted to ask; in the next moment people start arriving, in clusters and groups. Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli, Wen Qing and Wen Ning tagging along slightly behind; Nie Huaisang, chatting with a man Lan Zhan hasn’t met yet; a stranger with a slight frame and another who looks like the slightly more built version of the first. Wei Ying greets them all with a bright smile, momentarily forgetting Lan Zhan’s existence, and Lan Zhan feels like the cursor on his computer screen, momentarily blinking out of sight. Something about Wei Ying’s shift in attention is disappointing. Maybe he only wanted to know what Wei Ying was going to ask.People bring picnic blankets and beach chairs. Some are bundled in sweaters and others bravely wear T-shirts against the night wind. About twenty people arrive in all. They pack into the square between the projector tripod and the screen, setting up their individual campsites like squares in a patchwork quilt. Pleasant chatter fills the air. In the background, the waves crash steadily, the heartbeat of the night.Lan Zhan finds his spot, close to the back. The gathering of people brings out some of the old nerves, but even those aren’t as intense as they used to be in the city. The atmosphere here is so different from an upscale party for writers where everyone’s favorite topic of conversation is themselves. Someone asks him what he’s working on and he’s not even embarrassed to answer. Wei Ying fumbles with the projector and sets the movie up, and as it starts, he comes to sit close to Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan looks at him in some surprise, and Wei Ying flashes him a smile in the dimness. He’s not quite close enough for Lan Zhan to feel his body heat, but Lan Zhan senses his presence anyway, something intangible but clearly there, hanging in the air.They watch the movie for a while. It’s a mild, unexciting rom-com set in New York City, a journalist and a political figure with a tumultuous dynamic, a classic will-they-or-won’t-they. About twenty minutes in, Wei Ying gets bored of the screen and scoots closer to Lan Zhan. “Did you meet the Jins?” he whispers. “Chip and Dale, the two of them. The little one, Guangyao, owns most of the real estate around here.” Lan Zhan, not eager to get on others’ nerves, nods silently. “Oh, and if you’re wondering about the jerk in the red jacket,” Wei Ying says, nodding toward the far corner, “he’s a cousin of Wen Qing. Not a nice guy, and his girlfriend’s no better. But you can’t pick your family.”Lan Zhan looks over. The man in question is cuddling with his girlfriend, the two of them whispering and laughing up a storm quite thoughtlessly of everyone else’s attention to the movie screen. As Lan Zhan watches, he sees more than one person glance back at them in obvious annoyance.But there’s a bit of irony to Wei Ying pointing them out. “You are also talking during the movie,” Lan Zhan says.Wei Ying stifles a burst of laughter. “You’re right, you’re right,” he whispers. “I’ll behave myself.”He adjusts his position and falls silent. Lan Zhan isn’t sure how it happened, but Wei Ying is that much closer to him now. At this distance, he can feel Wei Ying’s body heat. It puts him into a sort of heady haze. He stares at Wei Ying, who is now enraptured by the movie. What would happen, he wonders, if he leaned into that heat? If he brushed his fingers across the span of Wei Ying’s shoulder, then the back of his neck? If he could come close enough to touch Wei Ying’s cheek, to mingle their breath, to taste his mouth --Lan Zhan goes rigid all over. A-Xian is his one true love. What the hell is he thinking?

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

When Lan Zhan wakes up the next morning, his head is pounding like he has a hangover. There's a vague sick feeling in his stomach, and he worries briefly that he's caught something being out with the town on the beach. But it doesn't take long for him to realize that this sickness is emotional. He's feeling badly about something. And it doesn't take him long to figure out what.
Lan Zhan tears his eyes and his mind away, heart racing. His fingers itch with the desire to touch. Wei Ying, just breaths away, is an oasis, and Lan Zhan is drowning. But no. He can’t. He shouldn’t.

He refocuses himself on the movie, trying to pay attention to the characters and plot rather than anything going on outside the screen. But the spike of attraction he'd felt toward Wei Ying remains, a hazy awareness somewhere on the edge of his consciousness. When the movie is over, he hurriedly heads home rather than face him again.
Since he was little, Lan Zhan has had a habit of wanting to punish himself for the slightest infractions. His gut instinct is to lay into himself for letting himself be so distracted. But he's an adult, and he's learned how to moderate these feelings of guilt. He tells himself steadily that everyone has their heads turned in their life by attractive people. Just because Lan Zhan hasn't felt it in a long time doesn't mean he's immune to it.That's not the point, says a voice in his head. The point is, you were supposed to be loyal to A-Xian.Lan Zhan is, though. He hasn't been disloyal in the slightest. A-Xian is still the person he's waiting for. He has no plans to act on his attraction to Wei Ying, as powerful as it had been in that moment. He had a thought. There's no crime in having a thought.Still, he isn't anxious to see Wei Ying again and see if the feeling gets stronger. He stays inside that day, working on his story about A-Ling and A-Yuan and gazing out at the sea for inspiration. His boys are coming to the conclusion that they may not be remembered by the outside world for a long time, and they're trying to figure out where their lives go from here. It's a sea change for them, removing that certainty they’d clung to that they would be rescued any day now, and they have to chart a course forward. Lan Zhan wonders idly what effect a realization like that, at such a tender age, would have on a boy's mind: the knowledge that all they have is themselves—and, if they allow it, each other.He's muted his phone during his writing session, and when he picks it up hours later, he sees it's overflowing with missed text messages. Several from Wei Ying, which he leaves unread, and a few from Wen Qing. Everything all right? she asks, though to Lan Zhan's knowledge, he hasn't given her any reason to think otherwise.Whatever reason she had for sending the text, Lan Zhan realizes he's grateful to have received it. Do you have time this evening? he texts back.The wine bar, several blocks removed from the rest of the businesses in town, is run by Wen Qing's uncle, a pleasant if dubiously groomed man who says he distills his own liquor on the side. He doesn’t try to sell Lan Zhan on the hard stuff, though; Wen Qing orders a cabernet and Lan Zhan gets a club soda with cranberry juice. Fourth Uncle gives them both a discount."You don't look good," Wen Qing says by way of greeting.“I’m all right,” Lan Zhan says. “But I could use a friend.”She gives a short smile. “Here I am.”This is how Wen Qing becomes the first person Lan Zhan confides in about his attraction to Wei Ying, and also the second person in the town of Sandy Point who hears the name "A-Xian."When the whole story is out, she stays silent for a while, running her finger around the rim of her glass and looking at some point on the back wall, behind Lan Zhan. When she comes back to herself, she's blunt. "You're not the first person on Earth to like two people at once.""No." Lan Zhan is aware of this. "But it still seems—"She cuts him off. "Wrong, right?""Inconsistent," is the word he uses. But she's right: it does feel wrong."We humans are muddy messes of gray morality," she says. "If we were consistent, we wouldn't be nearly as interesting."Lan Zhan knows this, too. "Still," he says. "I intend to wait for A-Xian. I shouldn't be swayed from that.""Shouldn’t is doing a lot of work in that sentence," Wen Qing observes coolly. "Do you think you're above all that?""Not above. Just different."She tilts the wine in her glass. "Maybe you're not."He decides not to tell her about the cold clutch of fear that grips his heart at that idea.She goes on. "Regardless. It's your life, it's your choice. If you want to go on waiting for your A-Xian, you get to do that. But there's nothing inherently wrong about changing your mind, now or later."He wants to say, It would be wrong for me. But he already feels like he's said too much, opened himself up too widely. A-Xian is a secret treasure he keeps close to his soul, and even talking about him seems like a betrayal in itself. How can he let others in, to question the resolution he's made for himself? It's far too close to letting strangers dictate who he is or should be, and he's always hated that the most of all.On Sunday morning, he takes a longer-than-usual walk along the beach. There, where the waves lap at his bare feet and the rush of the surf whispers to him like inspiration, he’s able to clear his mind and return to the moment.He’s spent a lot of time in the past twenty-four hours in his own head. But that’s not where his life is. It’s here, right now. He’s in a beautiful little town with the sea steps away. He can write all he likes, and he has friends now with whom he can spend time if he gets lonely. Maybe the best thing to do today is put all thoughts of A-Xian to the side for a few hours and truly appreciate where he is right now.With that in mind, he walks down as far as the pier, then turns back toward home. As he’s passing Wei Ying’s house, he hears a familiar shout.Lan Zhan freezes. His skin prickles, and he’s hesitant to turn toward the voice. What will he feel when he looks? Will he betray himself further? Too many seconds pass. He can’t avoid it anymore.But when he turns and sees Wei Ying on his back porch, waving, the opposite happens. His heart relaxes, and his nerves dissipate. While Wei Ying is still an attractive person, Lan Zhan doesn’t feel the intense urge to touch him that he’d felt before. The relief, and the welcomeness of the sight of Wei Ying standing there in sweatpants and a T-shirt, feels like someone has taken a twenty-pound weight off Lan Zhan’s shoulders. His lips turn up despite himself.“Come in for a bit,” Wei Ying calls. “I bought tea, just for you.”Lan Zhan sits in Wei Ying’s space, looking around, for the second time that weekend. Wei Ying moves around in his peripheral vision, fumbling with coffee mugs and teabags. In the light of day, Wei Ying’s place feels more spacious, less cluttered. It’s still messy, but it looks like Wei Ying has made some effort to clean up this time. Books that had been stacked on the carpet in untidy piles are put away now, and the sink isn’t full of dishes.“So I meant to ask you the other night,” Wei Ying says. “How do you feel about spending the day on the beach?”“Today?” Lan Zhan accepts a cup of tea and finds it’s a mild variation on Earl Grey, one that lacks the abrasion of the usual tannins. It’s smooth going down. Everything feels smooth and easy right now.“Lotus Pier is closed today,” Wei Ying explains. “Every year the Sunday after movie night is a family day for the Jiangs. We shut down the restaurant and take the day to relax at the beach. Jie makes the best picnic lunch and we go kayaking and swimming and read books under the sun and gab. It’s pretty terrific. Want to come along?”Lan Zhan is doubtful. “It’s your family day. I shouldn’t encroach on that.”Wei Ying barks a laugh. “You’re too polite! I see them every day. Come along and make it a little different for us this year.”Lan Zhan gazes at his drink and ponders. The ease he’s feeling right now is nice, and he can’t think of anything better than letting it extend to the whole day. He had resolved to make today about the here and now, to tuck all voices of warning away before they are able to drag him back into the past. But would a whole day with Wei Ying reawaken the feeling that had so startled him the other night? What might happen?“I’m begging you,” Wei Ying says, clasping his hands and leaning over the table. “Save me from my brother’s bellyaching, at the very least.”Leave it to Wei Ying to frame it as a noble endeavor. Lan Zhan is so weak to that. “I don’t want to antagonize your brother.” It sounds silly when he says it—Jiang Cheng has always been perfectly nice to him during their few encounters at Lotus Pier; he gets on Lan Zhan’s nerves sometimes, but he’s never given any indication the feeling is mutual.“It’s not personal,” Wei Ying informs him. “He’s just grumpy in general. Years of unrequited love will do that to a person. Also possibly having a brother like me.” He bursts out laughing. “No, Jiang Cheng will be fine. Really, Lan Zhan. Come along. Have you kayaked before?”“Not in a long time.” The idea of kayaking sounds nice. Lan Zhan used to do so on a lake, in his youth. So quiet and calming. “You are sure your family won’t mind?”“Who cares if they do?” Wei Ying says, a wickedness creeping into his grin. If Lan Zhan had any resistance to the idea left, it vanishes in an instant.The Jiangs are hardly the only people on the beach. It's not tourist-season crowded, but there are folks taking a stroll, headed out of work for an early lunch, people walking their dogs. But they are the only family in the water, which is frigid and not terribly pleasant as Wei Ying lines them up parallel to shore for what he calls the Eighth Annual Jiang Family Swim Competition. "To the pier," he instructs. "Last one there is the proverbial rotten egg."Lan Zhan has faith in his swimming ability, but he's somewhat surprised to see that all three Jiangs beat him handily. Even slim and petite Jiang Yanli eases ahead of him in the final ten meters to touch the pier column before he can get within a yard of it. By then Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng are already done, and bickering energetically about who won. Jiang Yanli tells him conspiratorially that Jiang Cheng always beats Wei Ying by just the slightest bit and then doesn't leave it alone for a good month afterward.Shuddering in towels back on the beach, they sit in folding chairs and chat. Lan Zhan accepts and gingerly sips at a cardboard cup of coffee poured from a thermos, and learns more about the restaurant business than he ever cared to know. The Jiang family accepts him as easily as if he'd always been one of them, which can leave Lan Zhan feeling alternatively warm and sort of invisible, as they talk among themselves without so much as a glance in his direction. Wei Ying brings him back into the fray every so often, with a shrewdly targeted "Lan Zhan agrees with me, don't you, Lan Zhan?" More often than not, Lan Zhan does.Lunch is wonderful, and Lan Zhan follows through on his intention from weeks ago and has one of Jiang Yanli’s fish sandwiches. He justifies it in his mind with the thought that it’s harder to be a vegetarian outside the city, with its endless culinary variety. The pang of guilt assails him all the same, but far too late. The fish is already eaten, and, he must admit, deeply enjoyed.Jiang Yanli is good company, speaking kindly to him as they let their food digest. Jiang Cheng is surprisingly affable, too, asking Lan Zhan about life in Manhattan and how he got into writing. Lan Zhan learns that Jiang Cheng went to business school in Boston and has studied martial arts since he was a child. “Wei Ying joined with me,” Jiang Cheng says, “but he gave it up halfway through middle school. Around the time he realized he was going to have to work hard to get any better.” In another context Lan Zhan might think the comment was a dig, but knowing Wei Ying as he does, it seems exactly in character.“Better than not knowing when to give up,” Wei Ying comments, followed by a cough, the name “Wen Qing,” and another cough.“I haven’t had my chance with her yet!” Jiang Cheng flushes. “Her brother’s always tagging along so she and I can’t ever have an adult conversation! If I could get a half-hour of her time without Wen Ning being there and asking stupid questions, I’m pretty sure things would change.”“Why don’t you ask her for a half-hour of her time, then?” Jiang Yanli says.Jiang Cheng’s mouth snaps shut, as though he’s never even considered it before.The last time Lan Zhan was in a kayak, it was on a pristine lake, and he found he could just sit there, without moving, for minutes on end and nothing would happen. He found endless inspiration in those days, just being one with the water and the sky. He is finding now that kayaking on the ocean is almost nothing like it.The waves keep him paddling, just to maintain his position, or he will be pulled in toward the sand. His arms ache dully as he tries to stay in one place. There’s a heart-pounding sense of adventure about it, even if it’s not the experience he remembers. And his eye is drawn not by calm water—the lake had been a perfect mirror of the sky—but by the sight of the others in their own kayaks, also making their way along the currents of the ocean. Jiang Cheng has a look of persistent concentration as he moves in powerful, short strokes. Jiang Yanli is smiling as she barrels along, stronger in her slight frame than he would have expected. And Wei Ying is letting out little whoops as the tide moves his kayak from side to side, threatening to spill him over one way or the other. Lan Zhan gets the feeling, watching him, that the only reason he’s still upright is sheer brash stubbornness.Wei Ying waves to him, then starts approaching, his arms working hard as he alternates strokes from left to right. “Fun, huh?” he shouts, but he doesn’t wait for Lan Zhan’s answer before reaching into the ocean and splashing out a spray of water that catches Lan Zhan unawares. He shakes the water off, but as soon as he does, Wei Ying is splashing him again, laughing all the while.On impulse, Lan Zhan slips a hand under the water and splashes him back.Wei Ying shouts happily. “There you go, Lan Zhan!” he says. “There you go!”Wei Ying, water splashing, sunshine. Lan Zhan’s heart leaps, alive and vibrant as a dolphin breaching the surface. What would his day have been like without Wei Ying there to invite him out? Would he have been trapped in his own mind for another day if Wei Ying hadn’t appeared, smiling, pulling him from what could be into reality? He’s suddenly, infinitely grateful that Wei Ying is in his life. He hasn’t felt this in a long time, this sense that the world is wider and brighter for one person’s presence in it.But you’re thinking about the wrong person, his inner voice says, sneaky in his ear like a spy. Lan Zhan pushes the thought to the side. This day, this moment, he’s enjoying the life he has.After saying their goodbyes to Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli at the end of the day, Lan Zhan and Wei Ying walk home along the beach. The sky is a dusky blue, and a slim crescent moon follows them along their way, both in the sky and reflected in the water. "Your siblings are nice," Lan Zhan offers."Yeah?" Wei Ying shrugs. "Jiang Cheng is a pain in my ass, but yeah, as siblings they're pretty good."“You seem fond of him.”Wei Ying wrinkles his nose, but then he shrugs. “Yeah, I guess I am. Don’t tell him, though.” Lan Zhan tries to imagine the three of them as children, Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying constantly getting into scraps, Jiang Yanli there as the patient voice of reason. The image pleases him. Not meaning anything by it, he asks, "What was your childhood like?"Wei Ying stops walking. When Lan Zhan turns a step later to face him, his expression has gone from calm and pleasant to stony serious. "I don't really like to talk about it," he says.Lan Zhan wasn't expecting anything like this. He feels as though he's touched a third rail. Electricity spikes through him, a current of fear and concern and curiosity all at once. "Wei Ying?" He’s not sure what else to say.Wei Ying is scowling at the sand. "I don't want to talk about it," he repeats.Occasionally, Lan Zhan has had trouble reconciling the eternally sunny Wei Ying with the creature he'd seen on the end of the pier that first night, playing melodies that seemed like the shriek of a mind in agony. This is the first time Lan Zhan has seen a glimpse of that ghostly figure in Wei Ying's expression. What could be hiding in his past that renders his countenance this dark? Lan Zhan can’t begin to imagine."I'm sorry," he says immediately, and then, feeling a little helpless, "If you ever want to talk about anything...""I don't," Wei Ying says. His voice is clipped, short.Lan Zhan is knocked silent. Something is going on behind that face that he is scared to touch; that he has no right to touch, not yet. Not now. Maybe someday.Wei Ying seems to shake himself out of it. "I'm sorry, Lan Zhan," he says. "I just really don't have a lot of good memories from that time in my life. I really prefer where I am now."Lan Zhan nods. "If Wei Ying is happy now, I prefer it too."He gets a nod and a shrug in response. "Pretty much," Wei Ying says. "I'm pretty much happy."And despite the million questions that come to Lan Zhan's mind in that moment, he knows better than to ask them. "Good."Wei Ying musters up his usual smile, but doesn’t offer anything further. In silence, they make the rest of the trek home.That night, Lan Zhan hears Wei Ying’s flute again, drifting to shore from the far side of the pier. The melody this time is lilting, almost nostalgic in its sweetness, but the high notes of the flute are still shrill, as though there’s a biting edge to the nostalgia that can’t be quelled. What must Wei Ying be remembering, to prompt a melody like this? Has Lan Zhan touched a live wire, with that question about Wei Ying’s childhood? He can’t help feel a little guilty.But in the morning, Wei Ying invites him in for tea again, with a huge smile, like nothing has happened.A week later, Lan Huan comes down to visit for a weekend. It’s late May now, nearly Memorial Day, and the first of the summer renters have started to come in. Lan Zhan has made progress on his story. A-Ling doesn’t want A-Yuan’s cooking, but he also doesn’t want to cook for himself. They’re at a sort of impasse, with A-Ling jealously guarding his food supplies and secretly longing for the food he smells from across the way as A-Yuan cooks. They’re adorably estranged, and Lan Zhan is just about at the point where he wants to bring them back together.Lan Zhan takes his brother around town. Aside from Lan Zhan introducing him to various acquaintances, they walk around pretty much silently; neither of them is the type to chatter about how things have been, or to ask many questions about how the other is getting along. It’s a welcome relief from the constant rumor mill that is the full-time residents, and Lan Zhan enjoys it.Lan Huan breaks the silence toward the end of their walk. “So, have you had any luck?” he asks, in his usual gentle, even tone.“Luck?” Lan Zhan blinks.“Finding your A-Xian. Do you think I don’t remember?” A smile stretches over Lan Huan’s face. This is as close as he gets to teasing his little brother. “Do you have any clues?”Clues? The word rings strangely in Lan Zhan’s ears. He hadn’t even thought about trying to gather clues. In his mind, he would move here, and one day A-Xian would show up, and that would be the end of it. He hasn’t thought to take any action to find him. “I suppose not.”“You’ve been focusing on your writing, then.” Lan Huan nods knowingly. “There’s nothing wrong with that. I just worry that you’ll miss him, if you spend all your time alone.”Lan Zhan feels the need to protest that. “I’m not alone.”“You have friends here, then? Even better.”“I do.” Lan Zhan thinks about the conversations he’s had with Nie Huaisang since he moved in; his lunches with Wen Qing; and of course his developing friendship with Wei Ying. He feels sure Lan Huan would be proud of him, to know he has relationships with the locals. “I am starting to feel part of the community.”As he expected, his brother beams. “I’m so happy to hear that,” he says.But you still don’t have A-Xian. It’s the voice in his head that startled him on movie night, that spoke to him during that day at the beach; a voice that’s becoming familiar. Is it his own voice? It—or he—continues. Isn’t that why you’re here? Why aren’t you doing more about it?“What’s troubling you?” Lan Huan asks.“Nothing.” Lan Zhan shakes his head. “A writing problem.” The lie comes easier and quicker than he thought he was capable of.And thank goodness, Lan Huan sees fit to leave it there.Lan Zhan takes his brother to Lotus Pier for dinner and introduces him to a few more people. It’s a crowded night, and Wei Ying seems busy; one of the other waiters sees to their orders. As they’re dining, a voice rises above the din of the crowded restaurant.“And I said, anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of him.”It’s Wen Qing’s voice, followed by an audible scoff from Jiang Cheng. After a moment, he speaks. “You can’t spare thirty minutes without your shadow in tow. Are you two really joined at the hip?”“It’s none of your business,” Wen Qing says sharply. “It’s the principle of the thing. If you can’t accept him, why should I give you anything?”“Maybe because you’re more than your brother’s keeper!” Jiang Cheng’s voice breaks in frustration. “He doesn’t come with you to work, does he? Do I have to make an appointment at your clinic to get a few minutes alone with you?”“If you try that,” Wen Qing says, “I will shove you out with my bare hands.”“I’d like to see you try!”“Try to get me alone and you will!”Lan Huan coughs. “Oh, my.”“This happens every other day,” Lan Zhan informs him.“On again, off again?”“Not exactly.” Lan Zhan isn’t given to gossip, and he doesn’t see the need to waste words on the tortured saga of Wen Qing and Jiang Cheng. But it does make him think about his boys trapped on the island. If A-Ling wanted to have a serious talk with A-Yuan, would he listen or would he reject him out of hand? And is this a coming-of-age story between two friends, or is there more between these two boys? Lan Zhan doesn’t often put romance in his stories, but it’s a thought to play with at the very least.“Just another night at Lotus Pier!” Another voice enters the air, this one closer. It’s Wei Ying, smiling, a hint of borrowed embarrassment making his grin a bit lopsided. He stands above them and offers a hand to Lan Huan. “Welcome! I don’t need glasses to see the resemblance. This is your brother, Lan Zhan?”Lan Huan stands and introduces himself. Wei Ying does the same. “It’s a pleasure to have you here! Lan Zhan talks about you … I won’t say a lot, because he doesn’t talk about anything a lot, but you know that, don’t you? We love having him as part of our little family. And he loves us, don’t you, Lan Zhan? Of course he does. Anyway, I apologize for my brother over there. We’re all used to it, but you might be a little put off. I promise you, it’s not sexual harassment, it’s a bit of consensual repartee. My brother’s as gone on her as you can possibly get. Maybe you know what that’s like.”“Wei Ying.” It’s all Lan Zhan can muster up. Wei Ying grins. “Sorry, sorry! I’m going on at the mouth. But it’s so nice to see your family! How is your work coming?”“It’s going well,” Lan Zhan says in answer, his lips quirking up momentarily. “Thank you for greeting my brother.”“You’re family, so he’s family,” Wei Ying says. “Do you both want to come around tomorrow morning and we can talk? Lan Huan, do you drink coffee at all, or do you prefer tea like Lan Zhan here? Don’t worry, I have both. I never drank tea before Lan Zhan moved here, but I’m learning.”“Alas, I have to leave early in the morning,” Lan Huan replies.“I will come over,” Lan Zhan says readily. He’s been at Wei Ying’s a few times this week.Wei Ying smiles warmly. “I’ll see you then!”When Wei Ying retreats to attend to other customers, Lan Zhan glances over at his brother and sees a certain smile on his face. It’s the kind of knowing smile that annoyed Lan Zhan in his youth. Now, he appreciates it, because that expression means Lan Huan knows something he doesn’t yet, and he’s about to learn.“A-Zhan,” Lan Huan says, “you like him very much, don’t you?” Lan Zhan parts his lips to speak, but as the words sink in, he loses whatever disaffected answer he was going to offer. You like him. He does, of course he does, Wei Ying is a pleasant person to be around, but Lan Huan means more than that. And Lan Zhan can’t afford to—he doesn’t have room in his heart for that—he’s here to wait for A-Xian—Lan Huan’s hand lands on his. A warm touch, a brother’s touch. “Do you remember, when we were young, watching The Little Mermaid? Part of your obsession with the sea.” Lan Zhan nods—he had been interested in everything marine after that summer. “Do you remember what the butler says to the prince?” Lan Huan’s voice is a murmur just above a whisper, intimate and too knowing. “‘Better than any dream girl is one of flesh and blood. One warm and caring … and right before your eyes.’”In the morning, after Lan Huan has driven out of town and back toward civilization, Lan Zhan makes good his promise and stops by Wei Ying’s place for tea.By now he is getting comfortable in Wei Ying’s space. He now has a regular place at Wei Ying’s small table, looking at the U of the kitchen area with a view of the ocean to the side. Wei Ying often doesn’t sit at all, preferring instead to stand behind the kitchen counter and move animatedly around the space as he talks. Today, though, he comes and sits opposite Lan Zhan, face uncharacteristically serious as he sets his coffee mug on the table.“Lan Zhan,” he says, doing his best to frown darkly, “we have something serious to talk about.”Lan Zhan expects a joke at any minute. “Do we?”“I’ve been thinking about it,” Wei Ying says, “and deciding whether to do something about it, and I think the time is now.”He’s sober and has kept a straight face for several seconds now. Lan Zhan begins to worry that something is seriously wrong. “What’s the matter, Wei Ying?”“It’s like this,” Wei Ying says. And just when Lan Zhan has stopped expecting it, the sly smile drifts back onto Wei Ying’s lips. “I want to ask you out. On a date.”All of a sudden there is a stubborn lump in Lan Zhan’s throat. He swallows hard to get it out. This is serious, and he isn’t ready for it, hasn’t even recognized the possibility that Wei Ying might be interested in him like that. He’d convinced himself the attraction he’d felt was a one-sided, one-time thing—a mere whim. It made things less complicated.But sitting here, with his brother’s words ringing in his ears from last night, he realizes it wasn’t. The urge to touch, the one he’d thought had departed for good, comes back with a vengeance. The truth is that he’s come over here day after day not just because he feels at ease here—not just because he’d been sure he was safe from those pesky feelings—but because he’s been actively craving Wei Ying’s company. And now he’s going to have to face the fact that something has been building here between them, something he doesn’t know how to stop.“You’re not answering,” Wei Ying says. “Tell me. Am I barking up the wrong tree here? Do you have any interest at all? If not, be honest with me. I’d rather know and deal with it.” Wei Ying looks at his coffee cup as though he could burn a hole through it. “I’m … I really like you a lot.”The lump Lan Zhan has swallowed bursts into flames, a bonfire in his chest. Lan Huan’s words from last night burn in his brain. You like him very much. Sitting here in Wei Ying’s world, with Wei Ying’s presence surrounding him, it’s impossible to deny. He does. An urge rises up in him to get up, round the table, and pull Wei Ying into his arms, kiss the breath out of him without a single word. The blood is rushing in his wrists, and his fingers itch to move.But his attraction to Wei Ying is not the whole story, and Wei Ying deserves to know that much.Lan Zhan stews over the correct words while Wei Ying sits there, stealing glances at him, face red. Finally, he says, “Wei Ying. I am interested. But …”“Oh God, don’t tell me you’re married, I couldn’t fucking handle it,” Wei Ying pleads. His lips turn up like he’s trying to be hyperbolic, another joke, but his eyes aren’t laughing.“I’m not married.”Wei Ying’s shoulders visibly relax, then tense again. “But…?” he prompts.“But,” Lan Zhan measures up his words again, then looks Wei Ying in the eyes. “I came here to find someone.”He tells Wei Ying the story of A-Xian, the week they spent on the beach together. As he speaks, Wei Ying’s face sinks into that sort of darkness Lan Zhan has only seen on him once before; his brows furrow and his gaze slides past Lan Zhan toward some forbidden horizon. One of his hands curls into a fist. Then, a moment later, it’s all gone again; there’s disappointment on his face now, but no more darkness. The clenched fist relaxes. Wei Ying heaves a long sigh.When Lan Zhan has finished speaking, Wei Ying takes a long swig of coffee, then shrugs his shoulders and fixes Lan Zhan with a grin. “Well,” he says, “the bad news is you’ve broken my heart a little.”“I’m sorry,” Lan Zhan says automatically.Wei Ying holds up a finger, bidding him to wait. “But,” he says, “the good news is, you’ve been such a good friend to me. And I’ve been there. I had a teenage crush too. So I’m going to do something nice for you.”The grin widens. “I’m going to help you find him.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Lan Zhan dreams. Someone is calling to him from across the beach. He gives chase. But the one calling him (a child? an adult?) seems no closer after a dozen frantic footfalls. Now that mysterious person is on a boat drifting a distance from the shore. Lan Zhan picks up a length of bristly rope to try to draw him close, but he’s never more than a silhouette in the moonlight. Lan Zhan’s heart sinks. Then he’s the one sinking, in over his head and drowning, unable to breathe or move. He wakes up gasping for breath and soaked with sweat.It’s no surprise, this dream. Lan Zhan’s heart has been troubled since yesterday. Wei Ying’s candid admission of his feelings was a lot to take in, and his unlikely offer to help is still turning Lan Zhan’s mind upside down. He wants to see it as a good thing. Wei Ying is a friend, and a longtime local. He might know more about where to sleuth out these things than Lan Zhan does. He’s that much closer to finally finding A-Xian.But of all the people to offer to help him, Wei Ying? Who has asked him out already? Who Lan Zhan is realizing he likes more than he thought? What if Lan Zhan loses his focus and does something he doesn’t intend to do? And even if he doesn’t, would finding A-Xian just hurt Wei Ying more?Wei Ying’s first idea is to look up real estate records. “If anyone’s going to know where they are, it’s Jin Guangyao,” he says. “He owns half the rentals in town. You’re lucky he didn’t buy up your place to put it up for rent. He’s like Mr. Potter from the movie. If he had his way, he’d own the whole town.”Lan Zhan had looked up vacation rentals before the house came available, and the prices were exorbitant. If Wei Ying tells it correctly, that’s likely this Jin Guangyao’s fault. He expects a handlebar mustache and an evil laugh.But the Jin Guangyao who comes to the door when they knock is the barest slip of a thing, slender and young-looking. Lan Zhan vaguely recognizes him from movie night. “Wei Ying,” Jin Guangyao says. “Have you come to finally sell me Lotus Pier?” They both laugh as though it is a running joke, but there’s some acid in that sound.Jin Guangyao turns to Lan Zhan. “Oh, and who’s this? A friend of yours?”“He’s my neighbor, and you already know that,” Wei Ying says. “We’re looking for some rental records.”Jin Guangyao invites them in to a lavishly decorated office, with a gargantuan polished wooden desk dominating the room. Around them are bookshelves, but only half hold books—the other bookshelves are loaded from floor to ceiling with trinkets. Ceramic figurines, artisan vessels, miniatures of swords. Every last one of them says expensive, and quite a few of them say pretentious as well. Jin Guangyao seems to be the type who relishes his material acquisitions.Lan Zhan shares with him the year for which he’s seeking records, but Jin Guangyao shakes his head. “Records only go back seven years,” he says. “When they’re no longer needed for tax purposes, they’re discarded.”“You’re holding back on us.” Wei Ying points a finger. “You totally have them squirreled away in some storage space somewhere. I’ve never known you to throw away a thing.”“Alas!” Jin Guangyao’s smile is unchanged. “This is really true, my friend. I discard them. There’s a question of privacy, and also sometimes discretion.” “Discretion? What kinds of shady things are your renters doing while they’re here?” Wei Ying leans over and mutters to Lan Zhan in an exaggerated whisper, “He’s absolutely up to no good.”“Your imagination is as keen as ever, I see,” says Jin Guangyao. “It’s not about what they’re up to. It’s the principle of the thing. We keep as much information as we’re legally required to keep, and no more. That’s for everyone’s sake.”“Do you happen to remember anyone from that year?” Lan Zhan asks. “I’m afraid not. And if I did, I wouldn’t be able to share it anyway. Like I said, Mr. Lan. The principle of privacy. Perhaps if you were to remember a little more about your friend?”Lan Zhan ponders this as they say their goodbyes and leave, then walk down the street toward the main drag so Wei Ying can start his workday at Lotus Pier. His memories of A-Xian center on their days and nights on the beach and at the secret cove, but he also knows they spent a whole week together. What else did they do? I’m going to marry him, he’d said to his uncle that week. A-Xian had already gone, and Lan Zhan was heartbroken. When I see him again, I’m going to marry him.He should have known better than to expect his uncle—the product of a conservative Chinese upbringing—to approve of this, or even laugh at it. You most certainly are not, he’d said. Do yourself a favor and forget about that boy.Uncle always knew best, at least until that moment. Lan Zhan remembers struggling with himself. One minute he swore he’d remember A-Xian forever; the next, he’d agreed that the best thing to do was forget. In the end, he’d found A-Xian too unforgettable to let go of. But had Lan Zhan managed to banish some memories in the meantime? Here, now, he isn’t sure. There could be more he isn’t remembering. Memories he’s forgotten how to access.Lan Zhan is about to mention this possibility to Wei Ying, when, once again, they are interrupted by the raised voices of Jiang Cheng and Wen Qing.This time, they’re around the corner near the general store. Wen Qing is toting a load of brown paper shopping bags, and Jiang Cheng keeps trying to take them from her. “Let me help,” he insists.“I don’t need your help,” Wen Qing snaps back.“I didn’t say you needed, I said let me help.”Lan Zhan is embarrassed to be in hearing range. When he realizes he’s stopped to watch the exchange, he’s even more embarrassed. But somehow that isn’t enough impetus for him to walk away.“If I needed help, I would have asked A-Ning to come along,” Wen Qing says.Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes skyward. “I’m trying to do something nice for you! Why does that upset you so much?””“I don’t trust you,” Wen Qing replies. “And I don’t like the way you treat A-Ning.”There’s a beat of silence. When Jiang Cheng speaks again, he sounds genuinely mystified. “How do I treat Wen Ning?”“Like he doesn’t matter. Like he’s not important.”Jiang Cheng puts a hand to his forehead as though to wipe away sweat. “That’s not my intention at all, Dr. Wen,” he says softly. “I’m sorry if you saw it that way.”This time, she is the one to take a moment to be silent. “Then why do you keep trying to separate us?” she asks at last.“I’m just trying to talk to you,” he says. “Dr. Wen—Wen Qing—I think Wen Ning is fine, but he’s a grown man. You don’t have to spend all your time taking care of him. Maybe you could find some time for me. That’s all.”“I don’t spend all my time—” She cuts herself off. “I just worry about him. He’s all I have. What if I’m not around someday, and something happens to him?”“Have a little faith in him,” Jiang Cheng says. His voice is almost gentle. Wen Qing’s expression softens. Lan Zhan has the feeling that watching any further would be wrong. He takes Wei Ying by the arm and continues down the road.In the afternoon, urged by Wei Ying’s suggestions, Lan Zhan takes to the internet to try to find his A-Xian. He Googles “Xian Sandy Point” to no avail. He looks up photosets of the town in the year they were there, hoping to see a familiar face in the background of pictures. He even considers posting a status about it on social media, one of Wei Ying’s more actively pushed suggestions, but decides against it—some things are too personal to be left to crowdsourcing. He brainstorms other ways to search for A-Xian, but comes up empty in his searches. By early evening, he is left befuddled and lost. Did A-Xian even exist at all? Is he part of some teenage dream, that over the years has bled through into becoming a false memory?As he often does during more rampant bouts of writer’s block, Lan Zhan turns to music to take his mind on the creative journey it needs. This time, instead of taking out Wangji, he strums his guitar as the sunset over the town reflects in the panes of his window. Over the years, he’s cobbled together a little tune inspired by his memories (or dreams) of that summer, that wonderful week. He plays it gently, murmuring the lyrics, letting his eyes close and his mind drift back.
They are walking down the boardwalk when, out of nowhere, A-Xian suddenly smacks his head against his palm. “My phone!” he cries out.

Lan Zhan turns. “What?”

A-Xian turns to him with a guilty grin. “I just realized I can’t take a picture of us. My stepmother took my phone away. She said to me, don’t you dare spend the whole vacation on your phone Go out and play somewhere. Did she take a-jie’s phone? Of course she didn’t. Just mine.” He shakes himself out of the tangent. “Do you have a phone? We can take a picture on that.”Lan Zhan shakes his head. “I don’t have a phone.”
“You don’t even have a phone?” A-Xian goggles at him. “Damn! Guess I’ll just have to remember you.”“We could buy a camera,” Lan Zhan suggests, feeling slightly foolish as he says so. Surely if it were as easy as buying a disposable camera, A-Xian would have thought of it already. Maybe A-Xian’s just playing at wanting a picture. Lan Zhan feels certain A-Xian can’t like him the way Lan Zhan is growing to like him.
But A-Xian erupts into a smile. “A-Zhan, you are a genius!” he declares, and rushes into the souvenir store.

When they take the picture, A-Xian pushes up against him, his grinning face flush against Lan Zhan’s own. Lan Zhan’s heart is pounding so hard, he doesn’t even think to ask for a copy. Knowing A-Xian wants to remember him is mind-boggling enough.
Wei Ying’s face is plastered to his back door.Lan Zhan doesn’t realize it as he finishes the final chords of his song, eyes closed. But when he opens them and sees it—at the glass door that leads to his back porch—he very nearly jumps in surprise. Wei Ying’s forehead and nose are pressed against the glass, and though Lan Zhan doesn’t jump, he does huff out a laugh. He sets his guitar down and steps to the door to let Wei Ying in.“That sounded so good,” Wei Ying says without so much as a hello. “That sounded soooo good, Lan Zhan. You absolutely have to come sing at the restaurant. Promise me you’ll come and do it soon.”“Why aren’t you working?” Lan Zhan asks. It’s right in the middle of the dinner rush.“You sound like a truant officer.” Wei Ying pouts. “They’re training up the seasonal workers, so I get the night off. Good enough excuse for you? Or are you going to march me back there and make me wait tables?”For someone who works as hard as Wei Ying does, he seems to have a lot of days off lately. “Of course not. Come in. Do you want tea?”Wei Ying waves his hand back and forth. “No tea. But play some more for me, Lan Zhan. What was that song? That was so good.”“It’s nothing.”“No, come on, tell me.” Wei Ying grabs Lan Zhan’s guitar and hands it to him forcefully. “What is it? Whose song is it?”“Mine.” Lan Zhan can’t help the ghost of a smile that flickers past his features. He doesn’t play music for people a lot, so getting compliments on his work is a rare pleasure.Wei Ying’s eyes bug out. “Yours? You wrote that? But it’s got lyrics and everything! You’re stupid talented, Lan Zhan, anyone ever tell you that? Play it for me one more time. I only caught the tail end as I was walking over.”Poleaxed by Wei Ying’s enthusiasm and his demand, Lan Zhan sits down with his guitar as though he’s being threatened at gunpoint. He steadies his guitar and strums the E minor chord that starts the song, then begins in earnest.Something ignites in the room while he plays. His voice rises above his usual volume, and halfway through the first verse he catches Wei Ying’s gaze. He’s rapt, watching with those sharp, piercing eyes as though hoping to memorize every moment. Lan Zhan feels as though he’s rising out of his body. He is both himself and a presence above himself, watching the scene. Seeing himself seeing Wei Ying, hearing himself sing, experiencing the hypnotizing pull of Wei Ying’s gaze and the intensity of his own heart pounding as though he is not just a character in the scene but the author, penning the words of this moment into poetry. If he weren’t singing, he’d be breathless with it.His voice falls, dies out on the last note. The last few chords resolve back into that familiar E minor.The music ends. Nobody moves.Wei Ying is possibly the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.In another moment, Lan Zhan might cross the room and close the distance between them…Wei Ying breaks into a round of applause, and the sound breaks the tension in the atmosphere. “You’re coming to sing at Lotus Pier,” he says, “and you’re doing it this weekend. No more waiting.”Lan Zhan crashes back into his own body with a rush of dizziness. He can’t even process Wei Ying’s words, much less answer his invitation. His mind is a blur of music and Wei Ying is beautiful. Nothing else is making it through.Seemingly unaware of his disorientation, Wei Ying strides around the room. “Well, truth is, I didn’t come over here just to creep on you playing,” Wei Ying announces. “I was wondering how you were getting along with your search. Oh, and I have a great idea for what to do next.”Lan Zhan forces himself back to earth. Fumbling his way to his feet, he puts away his guitar. He has to say something. The search, Wei Ying was asking about the search. He looks for words to answer. “I haven’t had much luck.”“No? That’s a shame.” There’s something odd in Wei Ying’s voice, but Lan Zhan is still returning to himself and doesn’t have room to think much about it. “I thought about posting, like you said,” he goes on. “It didn’t seem right.”“It’s your decision. But listen, I’ve been thinking about what Jin Guangyao said earlier this morning. How he said, maybe you need to remember more.”“So have I,” murmurs Lan Zhan, surprised and sort of pleased they’ve been thinking about the same thing. “Yeah, I was thinking, what else do you remember about him? You told me about meeting him on the beach, but it wasn’t just one meeting, was it? What else happened? Maybe we can dig up some clues.”Lan Zhan regards him, forcing away the dim throb of he’s beautiful that’s still echoing in his head. He could tell Wei Ying about A-Xian’s secret hiding place, that hidden cove. But no, that’s a sacred place—the place where A-Xian kissed him—and he doesn’t want to give it up that easily. “I did remember something,” he says instead. “I think we spent some time on the boardwalk. I don’t have many details.”“That fits in with what I was thinking,” Wei Ying says. “I thought we should go to some places you and he might have been, see if that jogs your memory. The boardwalk’s a great place to start. I have to work the rest of the week, but why don’t we go on Saturday, and just walk around a bit? You up for it? Oh, and what night do you want to do your performance? That night?”The performance. Wei Ying had changed topics so quickly, Lan Zhan had almost forgotten about it. Back when Wei Ying had first suggested the idea, Lan Zhan had said not yet—he didn’t know the town well, he didn’t know the people. Things have certainly changed. Maybe he’s ready now, but he won’t know for sure until he tries. “Perhaps the night before,” he says. “How many songs should I prepare?”“As many as you want,” Wei Ying says. “Just as long as that—” he points to the guitar, sitting on its rack in the corner of the room— “is one of them.”Flattered and still a little dizzy, Lan Zhan can only think about what it would be like to kiss him..He nods instead.In the week that follows, Lan Zhan puts together a set of about six songs for his involuntary debut on the Sandy Point music scene. But he also writes. Or, he tries to write. The same thing happens every time he tries.A-Ling and A-Yuan are supposed to be coming together to have a brotherly heart-to-heart at the climax of this story, where old wounds are bared and new courage found to endure into the unknown future. Lan Zhan tries to write the scene about five or six times as the week marches along, and every time the same thing keeps happening.A-Ling ends up marveling over the color of A-Yuan’s eyes. Or A-Yuan finds it impossible not to touch A-Ling. Or, worst of all, the two fall hopelessly and improbably into each other’s arms.This was not supposed to be a romance. This was supposed to be a coming-of-age story about an unlikely brotherhood. But A-Ling and A-Yuan keep ending up kissing, and it is throwing Lan Zhan off considerably.“What’s the matter with you?” he asks himself, knowing it’s foolish to speak aloud when there’s no one to hear, but the words won’t stay put behind his tongue. This isn’t usually part of his stories. And he hadn’t intended it when he started writing about these boys. And it doesn’t feel quite right—when they talk, they sound more like Lan Zhan himself than like either of their personalities.He knows human nature, and himself, enough to know what’s happening. He’s projecting his own feelings onto his characters, because he’s lonely. He’s craving the touch and the attention of a man who would be so easy to fall for, if he let himself. During the day, Lan Zhan’s mind wanders to the sheen of Wei Ying’s hair. Or the sight of his bare arms from that day at the beach. Or the rapt smile he gave Lan Zhan as he listened to the song that’s halfway named after the person that’s supposed to be Lan Zhan’s true love.His love for A-Xian has always been something almost celestial, pure and innocent. But over the past few weeks, Lan Zhan has become more and more aware of the feelings he’s cultivating for Wei Ying, and they’re not nearly so innocent. Lan Zhan was happy with the memory of a kiss from A-Xian, but his errant fantasies about Wei Ying only start with a kiss. Lan Zhan wants him in ways he didn’t know it was possible to want anyone. Or, at least, ways that he has never felt for anyone before. And it’s all so dangerous. Because he could betray everything he’s tried so hard his whole life to be.Would it be so bad? he finds himself asking. To just forget about A-Xian and listen to what my heart wants right now?But it’s more than just A-Xian. It’s a symbol of the kind of person he’s always prided himself on being. Pure. Loyal to the end. Someone who embraces the idea of once and forever, who finds his aim and goes after it with single-minded determination. He decided a long time ago that he’d found his true love, and if he is the person he wants to be, he’ll never let go of that.And if he never finds him and lives his life alone, well, then, at least he wouldn’t be betraying himself.He steps out from behind his laptop and paces the room until his phone rings. It’s his editor, wanting an update on A-Qing and the Blind Priest. Lan Zhan has all but forgotten about it. Yet another tangled problem he feels unable to answer. And a thought occurs to him: in pursuing this side story instead of his novel, isn’t he doing exactly the same thing he’s doing with Wei Ying? Letting an attractive distraction pull him away from his main focus?He never used to be this kind of person. And the fact that he can’t see a way out of becoming it now is enough to shake his soul.Soul-shaking or no, a promise is a promise, and Lan Zhan shows up to Lotus Pier on Friday night with his guitar in tow. It isn’t Wei Ying but Jiang Yanli who greets him as he arrives. She politely shows him to the raised area where he is to perform, just a small round podium outfitted with a chair and two microphones: one for him and one for his guitar. Jiang Yanli encourages him to adjust as he needs. “When you’re ready to start,” she says, “just flip this switch to turn the speakers on. Take your time.”Lan Zhan does take his time, tuning his guitar and looking around the restaurant. It’s a busy night, with the tables crowded and several people waiting in the front area for a table to open up. He spots Wei Ying right away, but right now he’s too busy waiting on tables and not looking Lan Zhan’s way. Conversation is loud and vibrant, and many faces are unfamiliar—tourists who have come up for a spring getaway in addition to the locals. Families with kids. Twentysomethings dressed in tight-fitting outfits, gathered around a large table, yelling at each other and shriek-laughing by turns. It’s the sort of atmosphere that would send Lan Zhan back home for dinner, if he were just here to eat. But he’s not, and the placard by his podium with “Today’s musical guest: Lan Zhan” scrawled on it is testament to that.He does notice that Wen Qing is sitting in a booth by herself, without Wen Ning in tow. She catches Lan Zhan’s eye and offers a brief wave. He nods to her. A moment later, Jiang Cheng comes to the side of the table, but instead of waiting on her like always, he slides into the booth opposite her. Lan Zhan wonders what has happened since he last saw them talking on the street.When he’s ready Lan Zhan flips the aforementioned switch and strums the opening chords to “The Long and Winding Road.”Wei Ying turns immediately, forgetting the table he’s waiting on for a moment. Lan Zhan leans in toward the microphone and sings, soft and low, the opening lyrics. He expects nerves to wrack him. He expects to find himself anxious, or faltering, or choking on his own words altogether. But none of that happens. He hears the amplification of his words as an echo, the strums of his guitar as a heartbeat. It’s comfortable and comforting. It’s been so long since he’s performed like this—since college days on brownstone steps with friends—but it’s disarmingly easy to start again. He lets the song wash over the room, seeing table by table turn to face him, There’s something joyous about being able to share his song with so many people. Lan Zhan sinks into it.
Don’t keep me waiting here.
Lead me to your door.
He continues the set with a Clapton piece, then a folksy guitar rendition of Sinatra. More and more people are forsaking their food to listen to him. Wen Qing and Wei Ying, among others, wander from their place in the restaurant toward his podium and stand a few feet away to watch. Wei Ying is beaming. Wen Qing listens attentively. As Lan Zhan watches, and sings, Jiang Cheng walks up behind her and puts a hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t lean in to it, but she doesn’t shake herself away, either.In the music, in the presence of people he cares about, Lan Zhan feels strongly that this is the place he’s meant to be. Here and now, with these people. What is the past but a life that lives only in your head? He plays a few more songs than he had planned, feeding off the energy in the room. And, as promised, he closes with his original composition. When he locks gazes with Wei Ying, it’s as though he’s coming home.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The next morning, Lan Zhan wakes up from a dream he isn’t sure isn’t a memory. In the dream, he finished singing and Wei Ying came up to him and hugged him. This happened in real life too, but in the dream Lan Zhan wrapped his arms around Wei Ying and held him there for a long moment, his head buried in the crook of Wei Ying’s neck, breathing him in. The dream was vivid and visceral, and Lan Zhan wonders how close he held Wei Ying last night when he returned the hug, whether he went too far or held him too long and somehow, in that moment, promised something he couldn’t deliver.When he remembers that he’s promised to spend most of the day with Wei Ying, exploring the town on the lookout for memories of A-Xian, a mix of excitement and dread assails him. He washes hot and cold, catching his breath, then forcing himself to inhale deeply. He has no idea what the outcome of this day will be. Will he finally pick up a trail that will lead him to A-Xian’s side? Or will he fall deeper and harder for Wei Ying, like he seems to do every day, and end up more lost than he was when he began?He’s afraid he won’t be able to tolerate it. But the minute Wei Ying arrives to share some tea and talk strategy for the day, Lan Zhan relaxes. He always feels so at ease when Wei Ying is close to him, even while he’s aware that’s part of the danger.“The first place we’re going is Mianmian’s coffee shop,” Wei Ying informs him.Lan Zhan gestures to the teacup. “We’re already having tea.”“It’s not the cuisine, it’s the history,” Wei Ying says. “Mianmian’s mother used to run the shop. She was also called Mianmian, and now her daughter, Mianmian Number Two, runs it. I honestly forget what her real name is.”Despite the redundancy of coffee after tea, Lan Zhan agrees to go, and to visit a few places Wei Ying mentions after that. None of the names he mentions ring an immediate bell from long ago, but that doesn’t mean he won’t recognize them once he arrives. They set out shortly after and head to the coffee shop, which has a bright red sign in the window reading, in a loopy handwriting, “Sorry! Cash only!” Inside, the display case features a few traditional Chinese sweets in addition to the usual pastries. Lan Zhan looks them over, then closes his eyes with his palms still pressed to the glass of the display case, trying to remember.
His palms pressed to the glass.

Every sweet looks wonderful. He has a little pocket money from Uncle. A-Xian came running across the sand to him this morning as he’s done every morning this week, looking like sunlight itself as his feet flew. Lan Zhan had wanted nothing but to open his arms and have A-Xian fall into him, tackle him down. And then …. do what exactly? Lan Zhan isn’t quite sure, but he knows he wants it.

Instead, they’re in this coffee shop together. A-Xian has ordered a drink that Lan Zhan is sure has more sugar than coffee in it. Lan Zhan has ordered jasmine tea, and ….

“That one,” A-Xian says, pointing to the display case beside him. He’s indicating a small sweet in the shape of an orange blossom. As Lan Zhan gazes at it through the display case, it seems to twinkle like a little sugary star.

“That one,” Lan Zhan agrees.

“Hey, uh, A-Zhan?” A-Xian has a little guilty grin. “I don’t have much money. Do you think you can lend me a little?”
“Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying’s at his side. Lan Zhan realizes he is gazing at the same sweet as before. “Yes?”“I, uh… I’m a little low on cash at the moment. Can you spot me, just for this?”It’s a perfect echo of the memory that had stirred in Lan Zhan’s mind. Too perfect. Was what he remembered a memory at all, or was it just him seeing A-Xian in Wei Ying’s eyes?They sit at a low table and sip their drinks in relative silence. Lan Zhan goes over the memory again and again in his mind. The more he thinks about it, the more he can’t be sure it happened at all. “You’re ten miles away,” Wei Ying observes. “Back there with him?”Lan Zhan shakes his head. “I don’t know.”“You don’t know?” “I remember something. I am not sure. I may have imagined it.”“Hmm.” Drawing small circles in the foam of his drink with a stirrer, Wei Ying frowns. “Sounds confusing.”“It is.” Lan Zhan sips his tea. It’s too acidic, a little burnt. The water was too hot when it was steeped. “I thought I was here with him. A-Xian. I thought he asked me for money, and then—” And then you did. “He may have wanted one of the sweets.”“He may have,” Wei Ying echoes thoughtfully. “You’re really not sure, huh?”“I can’t be.” Lan Zhan feels like a fool. He shouldn’t be sharing something he’s not sure of. Wei Ying touches his nose with the tip of his index finger, as though brushing off a fly. “Does that happen to you often?”Not until just now. “No.”“I bet you’re thinking yourself into the ground,” Wei Ying says. “Relax. Have your tea. If the memories come, they come. Don’t try to force it.” “Don’t try to remember?” That seems antithetical to the whole purpose of their journey today. “Yeah. Trying takes too much effort. What about this?” Wei Ying jabs in Lan Zhan’s direction with the stirrer, which is flecked with white foam. “You’re having a daylong date with a cute guy. And maybe you’ll think of another cute guy. And maybe you won’t.”A date. With Wei Ying. They could hold hands as they walk down the street. Lan Zhan could sling an arm around him as they watch the sea. In a secluded corner of the boardwalk, they could … Lan Zhan shakes his head. “What about a day with a friend?”There’s no mistaking the disappointment that flickers through Wei Ying’s eyes, but he gathers himself a second later. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever works.”The day with a friend continues with a trip to a used bookstore. Lan Zhan is pleasantly, and somewhat embarrassedly, surprised to find copies of both of his Cloud Recesses books on the shelves. They’re hardcovers, the first one a bit beat-up, the second in pretty much pristine condition. He points them out to Wei Ying, despite the guilty sensation that he’s just showing off.Wei Ying picks up the older copy of The Cloud Recesses and flips through it idly. “What’s it about?”“The series is about Chinese cultivators,” Lan Zhan says. “The first book introduces Sizhui and his best friend, Jingyi, as they learn the path of the sword. The second one introduces the character of the Ghost General.”Wei Ying pulls out the second one, looks at the cover, and bursts out laughing. “Your Ghost General looks like Wen Ning. No wonder he’s so obsessed with your books.”Lan Zhan can’t deny the resemblance. “My illustrator’s vision,” he says, though he wouldn’t deny that he had a similar description in mind.“Sizhui’s a great name,” Wei Ying says. “Sizhui and the Ghost General go around the cultivating world doing what exactly?”“Fighting monsters. Helping people.” “They sound interesting. I’ll have to pick these up.” He tucks the books under his arm.On impulse, Lan Zhan plucks them away. “Don’t,” he says. “You’re low on money. I have extra copies at home.” Wei Ying flushes, and Lan Zhan realizes, belatedly, how forward and personal a motion it was to reach under Wei Ying’s arm and take the books. He’d pulled Wei Ying’s arm out with his other hand, and now his fingers are a little hot. “Okay,” Wei Ying says, a note of confusion in his voice. “Okay. I’ll borrow them. That’s okay too.”“I’ll gift you copies.” “Oh, no, that’s okay.” Wei Ying smiles. “I’ll just borrow them.”If Lan Zhan thought it proper, he would have taken Wei Ying’s arm again, just to press home the point. “I’ll gift you copies,” he repeats, trying to sound final. Wei Ying deserves at least this generosity. Look at what he’s doing for Lan Zhan today, despite his own desires. Lan Zhan can’t begin to think of a decent way to repay him, but this is at least a start.Today is the third day of June, and it’s nearly eighty degrees out. The beach is full, and the boardwalk is alive as they head in that direction. In addition to the seasonal tourists, weekenders have arrived on buses and in packed cars for a few days on the sand. Lan Zhan remembers, as they head down toward the boardwalk, running toward the sand, dodging swiftly between beach blankets as he made his way to the ocean’s edge. After A-Xian’s introduction to the ocean, he can’t stay away from it.
“Look, A-Zhan,” A-Xian says. He’s hopping toward him on the beach carrying something big and brown. “A horseshoe crab.”

“Is it alive?” Lan Zhan asks, prompting a gale of laughter from A-Xian.

“No, it’s just the shell. Isn’t it huge?” A-Xian pushes the item into Lan Zhan’s hands. “Isn’t it so funny to think of these things just hanging out on the ocean floor? Like, how do you even move or get food if you’re underneath this big old shell? At least fish can swim. What do you do all day? If I were a horseshoe crab or a clam or something I’d be so bored.”

“I doubt they have enough brain cells to get bored,” Lan Zhan says.

“I’m gonna go show my brother. I’ll be right back!” A-Xian snatches the shell back and in another half-instant he’s gone. Lan Zhan looks out at the ocean and resolves to read all about everything that lives there. He’s suddenly dying to know what a horseshoe crab does all day long.
“Yo!” Wei Ying calls next to him, but the shout isn’t directed at Lan Zhan. He’s looking at a throng of nine- and ten-year-old children, some with younger siblings in tow. At the center of the group stands a smiling Wen Ning, handing out individual balloons from a bunch so voluminous Lan Zhan is briefly worried he will be caught up by the wind and carried away. At Wei Ying’s shout, Wen Ning lifts his gaze from the kids in front of him and smiles gently. They approach. “Hello, Wei Ying, Mr. Lan,” Wen Ning says. “Would you like a balloon?”“Aren’t you supposed to charge for those?” Wei Ying asks, laughter in his voice.“I am!” Wen Ning nods toward his waist; attached to his belt is a small plastic container filled with nickels. Wei Ying laughs loudly; Lan Zhan can see what’s so funny—Wen Ning is giving out balloons indiscriminately, and there’s no telling if the children are actually paying or not. There’s a sweet earnestness to his face as he hands out one to each child, and the wells keep refilling with more and more children running up to demand theirs. Soon enough all the balloons are gone and the rest of the children run off, disappointed, freeing Wen Ning to lean on the boardwalk railing and chat with them a few minutes. “Mr. Yao let me start my summer job early,” he brags. “I’ll be starting up the cotton candy stand soon. But it’s not noon yet, so I’m not supposed to start until after lunchtime. Mr. Yao says the parents won’t let their children eat sugar before lunch.”“How’s your sister?” Lan Zhan asks.“She’s good! She’s very happy lately,” Wen Ning answers. “A couple of nights this week she made dinner for me and then went out. I get to watch whatever TV I want when she’s gone. But when she comes home it’s very late. Sometimes I’m already in bed.”He talks about it like it’s an unusual situation; Lan Zhan resolves to ask Wen Qing what is going on. Wei Ying seems unconcerned. “What kind of naughty TV are you watching?” He points the question at Wen Ning like an accusation.“Oh, nothing bad!” Wen Ning says, flushing a little. “But I can watch anything on her Viki subscription. I watched some dramas. There’s a lot of magic and kung fu. It’s really interesting.”“I love that kind of drama,” Wei Ying says. “Did you watch Love and Redemption? That’s my favorite.”“Oh, no! I’ll have to try it.”As Wei Ying and Wen Ning chatter, Lan Zhan lets his focus drift. It’s really very touching, the way Wei Ying interacts with him. There’s a gentleness to him right now. A softening of the usual sharpness of his tongue. Lan Zhan thinks back to the conversation he saw between Wen Qing and Jiang Cheng. He’d been very adamant that Wen Ning is a grown man, but there’s an element of the childish in him that can’t be denied. No wonder Wen Qing is so protective of him. But now she’s leaving him and going out several times a week? Lan Zhan wonders if some of Jiang Cheng’s words have made an impression on her.He tunes back into the conversation in time to hear Wei Ying say, “Ask him.”Wen Ning turns his attention to Lan Zhan. “Um, Mr. Lan,” he says, “what are you working on right now? Are you writing another book?”“I am,” confirms Lan Zhan.Wen Ning’s eyes light up. “Is it another book in the Cloud Recesses series?”Lan Zhan thinks about telling him about A-Qing and the Blind Priest, but he still feels stuck in a rut. How will he ever get that dark, tragic story into a place where a young reader with a mind like Wen Ning’s can enjoy it? He shakes his head. “I’m writing a story about two boys who are stuck on an island together. They have to work together to stay alive, and they become…” lovers? “...friends in the end.”“Oh!” Wen Ning looks between the two of them happily. “Like you and Wei Ying.”Lan Zhan’s heart thumps. He hadn’t made the comparison before, but is A-Ling like Wei Ying in some ways? Does that make him A-Yuan, steady and stable and slowly becoming aware of his own feelings?Wei Ying laughs. “It does sound like us, doesn’t it? What do you think, Lan Zhan?”He catches Lan Zhan’s gaze. Lan Zhan tries to see A-Ling in him, but all he sees is A-Xian again. “Maybe,” is all he can say.Wei Ying buys some crab cakes from a nearby vendor (suddenly, he has money) and they sit on a bench overlooking the beach. A bank of rainclouds is rolling in from the west, but the noontime sun is still blazing. The back of Lan Zhan’s neck feels hot. “How’s it going?” Wei Ying asks as they eat. His eyes are fixed on something happening on the beach, something that makes him gasp a little and then grin. “Are you enjoying yourself?”It’s not the question Lan Zhan was expecting. But surely the answer is yes. “I’ve been remembering some things,” he says. Wei Ying’s gaze flickers in his direction, then returns to whatever is amusing him on the sand. “There’s something I’d forgotten, A-Xian showing me a shell.”A beat passes. “That’s nice,” Wei Ying says. There’s no intent to his voice, no emotion.Lan Zhan feels silence settle like a dark cloth. He shakes it away. “What about you?”Wei Ying nods. “I’m remembering some things too.”He must have a lifetime of memories here. But Wei Ying didn’t want to talk about his past. Lan Zhan wonders if it’s crossing a line, but he ventures to ask, “Like what?”“Nothing important. Some good things, some bad things.”It’s a noncommittal answer and Lan Zhan feels like the message is don’t ask more. He nods and leaves it alone.Wei Ying seems to leave it, too, for a minute. Then he turns to Lan Zhan. “Ah, Lan Zhan, I am sorry I’m so weird about my past,” he says. “I feel like I need to explain just a little.”“You don’t.”“I should, though.” He heaves a sigh and forces open a fist he’d clenched. “Here’s the thing. I had two sets of parents, and I lost both of them.”Faced with this, Lan Zhan loses the remainder of his appetite. He sits and watches and waits for whatever is going to happen next.“I was homeless for a while after I lost my birth parents,” Wei Ying says. “Those weren’t good times. And then Uncle Jiang adopted me, and then …. well, then things got worse. If I didn’t have Jiang Cheng and A-jie… and even with them I wasn’t the best person I could have been, you know?”His eyes are full of sorrow. Lan Zhan wants to hold him.“And then I lost Uncle Jiang and his wife, and the three of us only had each other,” Wei Ying goes on. “It took a while for all of us to heal. I like where I am, I really do. But I don’t like to look backward.” He catches Lan Zhan’s gaze. “Is it so bad, to want to just enjoy where you are right now? Does everything have to have history?”The words are half a plea, but they’re also half an accusation. Lan Zhan feels as though he’s being found guilty of something. “Wei Ying should do what’s right for Wei Ying,” he says, although it feels like a platitude.Wei Ying regards him for a second. “But you can’t do the same?”There it is. They stare at each other across the scant gap between them, past and present, then and now. Lan Zhan doesn’t have an answer, not one that would satisfy Wei Ying. “Please understand,” he says. “That was the best time in my life.”“Because of him?” A small, sad smile plays about Wei Ying’s face.“Because of him.”Wei Ying breathes in and out. “The best time in my life,” he says, “is right now. W…” He closes his mouth before finishing the next word.But Lan Zhan knows what he was going to say. With you.The unspoken words linger in Lan Zhan’s mind as Wei Ying drags him along the boardwalk toward “dessert, Lan Zhan, dessert!” While Lan Zhan is having a stroll into the world of memory, Wei Ying is here in the present waiting for him, and it seems at once ungentlemanly and unpleasant to leave him there. Wei Ying had said he should enjoy a day with a friend, and maybe that’s what Lan Zhan should do. The promised dessert is in a store called the Sugar Castle, which smells of decadent fudge and features just about every kind of candy Lan Zhan has ever seen. Tourists, some with children far too small to be let loose in a place like this, are milling throughout. Lan Zhan looks up at the plastic castle, full of towers of jelly beans and surrounded by a moat of Swedish fish and candy shells, and feels a sort of shameful glee enter his heart. He’s done his best to keep his sweet tooth in check over the years, but this sort of wholehearted abandonment speaks to the romantic in his soul. The moment when one loses control has a sort of poetry to it.Wei Ying finds a free sample of fudge on a tray and offers one square on a toothpick to Lan Zhan, eating another himself. The fudge is not chocolate, it’s something called penuche, and when Lan Zhan lets it melt on his tongue, the sweetness rises up around him like an aroma. Something about the flavor hits him like a drug, making everything brighter and rosier.When Wei Ying licks his lips, Lan Zhan watches the motion, transfixed. Their eyes catch. At once Lan Zhan is underwater, in a dream world, with just him and Wei Ying and the overwhelming sweetness washing over them. A sense of abandon rises up in him. What if he just gave in to the urge to touch, taste? Right now and right here? The best time in my life is right now, Wei Ying said. Lan Zhan could let it be his, too. All he has to do is let go. For the first time, he seriously considers forgetting all about his chase for A-Xian. About accepting the welcome Wei Ying has laid out for him. About losing his heart.His mind recoils. His heart thuds. How could he? He could never.But if he did, would it be so bad?Seemingly cheered up immensely by the sugar, Wei Ying drags him next to a place full of flashing lights and loud music. It’s a sort of amusement park, sort of arcade, with large enclosures fencing in children’s rides as well as row and rows of arcade games. Something seems off to Lan Zhan about the decor. It’s old-timey to the extent that it feels hokey—newspapers from the 1920s and advertisements from the ’50s littering the walls, a strange contrast from the newness of the rides and games. “This place changed,” he says to Wei Ying. “Didn’t it?”
“So you are starting to remember some things!” Wei Ying says, clapping him on the back a trifle too hard. “You’re right. It used to sort of have this ‘80s vision of the future going on, but it got dated, so they redecorated.”The change makes little sense to Lan Zhan. It’s true that many of the arcade games are vintage by now, but flashing lights ought to be accompanied by something future-forward, not leaning hard into the past. Nevertheless, there’s nothing he can do about it, so instead he strolls by the rows of games and tries to remember how it used to be.
Lan Zhan doesn’t watch television, so when A-Xian wrinkles his nose and complains that the place looks like the inside of a spaceship from “one of those dumb old TV shows,” he doesn’t really understand. But A-Xian doesn’t like it, so Lan Zhan decides he doesn’t like it, either.

A-Xian is in a funny mood today. His eyes are usually full of wonder, but today he’s grumbling and complaining. Lan Zhan wants to ask what’s wrong, but he also doesn’t want to break the spell that’s kept the two of them in a near-constant state of excitement for the entire week.

He’s never played a video game. When he confesses this to A-Xian, he gets an incredulous look and a gale of laughter. “Do you even do anything?” A-Xian says. “You don’t swim, you don’t watch TV, you don’t play games.”

“I swim.” Lan Zhan feels he has to defend himself on this front at least.

“You were scared of the ocean.”

“I wasn’t scared.” Lan Zhan is telling the truth—he just hadn’t gone in, it didn’t mean he was scared. Well, maybe he was a little scared. The waves were big.

“It’s okay! Don’t look so upset. Anyway, I’m gonna teach you. What do you want to play first?”

Lan Zhan looks around. Everything looks unfamiliar. He points to a game with pixelated fighters. In the demo, a samurai is chopping his sword at a woman wearing a short-cropped blue shirt.

A-Xian shakes his head. “That’s too complicated for beginners. You have to learn all these different combinations.”

Something in A-Xian’s boldness encourages Lan Zhan’s own. “I want to play that one,” he repeats.

"It's your funeral." A-Xian shrugs and walks over to the machine. "Think you can remember all those?" He points to the display listing all the combinations for each fighting move.

Lan Zhan has already memorized them. He doesn't tell A-Xian that. "I think so."

A-Xian looks skeptically at him. "Okay."

They feed tokens into the slot and start playing. Lan Zhan chooses the samurai. A-Xian chooses a character with torn clothing and stubble. They fight.

Lan Zhan lands a hit. A-Xian cries out. "The hell?"

He fights back, but Lan Zhan has a sense of when to do what, and A-Xian has trouble keeping up. "Fuck," he says, "how come you're so good at this? I thought you said you'd never played. Shit!"

Lan Zhan KOs his character, who goes flying and lands on his back, pixelated skin covered with scratches. A-Xian kicks the machine. "Shit!" he repeats, voice breaking on the curse.

Lan Zhan looks up from the screen at him and sees a face beset by stormclouds. A moment later, A-Xian has turned on his heel and is stomping out of the arcade.

What did he do wrong?
“Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying’s hand is on his shoulder, a warm weight. Lan Zhan turns. “Sorry.”“You went a million miles away.” There’s something gentle and giving in Wei Ying’s expression. It loosens Lan Zhan’s tongue. “I had a memory,” he says. “Not a good one.”“Yeah?” Lan Zhan shakes his head. “We were here. He was in a bad mood. Most days he was so happy and that day he just … wasn’t. He was almost …”“Almost what, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying’s voice is soft.He thinks about the taunting, about telling Lan Zhan he couldn’t do anything, about the way he responded. The word that comes to mind is mean. He can’t say it. He can’t dishonor A-Xian like that in front of someone else.Thankfully, Wei Ying stops waiting for an answer. “If it’s a bad memory,” he says, “maybe it’s best if you just forget about it. There’s nothing that says you have to remember every little thing, right?”But it’s a memory of A-Xian, and all memories of A-Xian are sacred. Aren’t they? Wei Ying offers his signature grin. “Come on. Forget about it, let’s play a game. How about that one?” He gestures toward a driving game, the kind with a steering wheel and two seats for two-player play. A little lost, Lan Zhan nods and follows him toward the game.
He finds A-Xian outside, watching a bunch of seagulls clustered around a crust of bread. He says his name carefully, a question.

A-Xian sighs and turns to him. “Sorry about that,” he says.

“Are you okay?”

“I guess.” A-Xian kicks at the wood of the boardwalk lightly. “I just really wanted to win.”

Lan Zhan is puzzled. “It’s just a game.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s more like, I just wanted a win. Like, to win at something.” He sighs heavily. “You ever feel like you’re worthless? Like you can’t do anything right, ever?”
How could A-Xian ever feel that way? Worry lurches through Lan Zhan’s heart. “You’re not worthless.”

“Some people think so.”

“They’re wrong,” Lan Zhan hears himself blurt. How can anyone make someone like A-Xian feel bad about himself? He has to fix it somehow. “You’re worth … everything.”

A-Xian meets his gaze. “You’re nice, A-Zhan,” he says. “I have an evil stepmother, and she was mean to me last night. That’s all. That and …”

“And?”

“Just, we’re leaving in a few days,” A-Xian says

Lan Zhan’s heart speeds into overdrive. He hasn’t even thought about having to say goodbye to A-Xian, maybe forever. He doesn’t have his own phone or social media or anything that most kids these days use to keep in touch. “Leaving?”

“Yeah.” There’s something tentative and sweet in A-Xian’s eyes. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I will miss you too,” Lan Zhan says readily. He reaches over and takes A-Xian’s hand.
They look at each other. The flock of seagulls bursts into sudden flight. Lan Zhan’s heartbeat flutters in time with their wings. He loves A-Xian so, so much. He’s never felt this way about anyone before in his life. And he’s sure—he’s sure—he never will again.Lan Zhan’s car spins off the racing track and into the grass. He hadn’t remembered until now how that day had ended. That day, he was so sure he was in love. He was thirteen. What did he know about love? He’s seen enough to know that it comes and goes, that most people go through many relationships in their life. But still he has clung to the idea that he’s not most people, that somehow he knew. Even back then, he knew.How can he even begin to think he could feel that way about someone else?But Wei Ying is right beside him, jerking the steering wheel back and forth, laughing and shouting by turns, every bit as gregarious and captivating as A-Xian had been. Lan Zhan wishes, fervently, and not for the first time, that they could be the same person. That Wei Ying will magically turn to him and say, actually, it was me this whole time. But he won’t. If he was going to, he wouldn’t have said I’ll help you find him. He would have told Lan Zhan by now.They play a few games, have ice cream mid-afternoon despite the weather cooling as the rainclouds he’d spotted earlier take over the sky. Still licking his fingers, Wei Ying shrugs in the direction of a photo booth of sorts, the kind of place that has old-timey costumes and accessories to use. “Come on, this will be fun!” he says, head already down as he rummages through the various items. Lan Zhan thumbs through the items on the rack. The Western-style jackets and waistcoats hold little appeal for him. He may put on a cowboy hat, but that’s as far as he feels like going today, which has held so many mixed emotions. He has tasted fudge and played video games, and his tolerance for silliness is ebbing. He has no memories of this place. He considers asking Wei Ying if they can leave. He’s inhaling to speak when Wei Ying, behind him, says, “Lan Zhan. Look!”Lan Zhan turns and is immediately speechless again.Wei Ying has pulled on, over his clothes, a Japanese-style kimono with a delicate flower pattern. The kimono is bright, lustrous red, with the flowers stitched carefully in blue and black thread. It’s a woman’s kimono, but Wei Ying is beyond gender in this outfit, his movements graceful and lithe as he turns for Lan Zhan’s appraisal. He’s pulled his hair out of its usual ponytail, and it flows black and gorgeous against the red fabric. The color plays beautifully with his face, highlighting high cheekbones and making the black of his eyes more striking. Lan Zhan can’t breathe. His body is lighting up with wonder and want. Images flood his mind, some of them serene, some more torrid. Wei Ying in this kimono, beckoning to him. Pulling him into a dance. The whisper of the satin sleeves against Lan Zhan’s skin. Wei Ying leaning in for a kiss. Pushed up against a wall, the kimono parting to reveal bare skin. Fascinated, his mind whispering yes and then no at him in turn, Lan Zhan steps forward. The remaining gap between them is scant. “Wei Ying looks—” The word in his mind is beautiful, but he can’t say it aloud. “—very nice,” he finishes, feeling the inadequacy of the phrase like an ache in his gut.“Thank you,” Wei Ying half-whispers, blushing. Blushing. Lan Zhan has never wanted so badly to touch anything as he wants to touch Wei Ying’s face right now.
—he’s sure he’ll never feel this way about anyone again—
But he does. Gods help him, he does.He lets the attendant take the picture in a daze, feeling like the sun he’s held in his heart for years is being eclipsed, not knowing what it means or if he’ll even come out of this in one piece. So many things seem to be breaking apart, and yet something else feels like it’s finally coming together. His heart skips and drums by turns as he takes his copy of the photo in hands. In it, he is unsmiling, and Wei Ying is stunning. He knows immediately that he’ll keep it forever.The rainclouds have blotted out the sun and are looming overhead as they leave the arcade. It’s been weeks since the last rain, but it’s threatening now. Below the boardwalk, on the beach, families are packing up for the day, eyeing the skies with concern. The wind has picked up. The waves lash up against the supports of that long pier, like they are trying to swallow it whole.There’s something about this angle that’s familiar. Lan Zhan stops. Wei Ying, strolling a few paces ahead, turns to look back at him.“He took a photograph, here,” Lan Zhan says. He steps to the side, against the railing, holding the photo from before in one hand. “Not like this one. An ordinary photo. He bought a disposable camera and we took a picture, because he didn’t have his phone.”“You remember that?” Wei Ying says.Something in the way the question is worded surprises Lan Zhan. “What?”Wei Ying looks equally bewildered. He smiles his usual carefree Wei Ying smile. “What I mean is, that’s great! If you’re remembering something like that.”Lan Zhan is not sure if he’s right. He has recovered so many memories today, and that should be a good thing. And if he’s determined to find A-Xian, maybe it is. But he doesn’t remember enough details to be helpful in a search, and what use is it for A-Xian to remain nothing but a memory? What does he do if A-Xian never appears again? Does he throw his life away waiting for someone who will never come?Someday, Wei Ying may very well be nothing but a memory too. Does Lan Zhan want it to be the same way? A figment of the past, leaving steps untaken, words unspoken?The rain begins then.There’s a rumble of thunder, one that sounds relatively far away, but the clouds aren’t waiting for the thunder to catch up. They open like a door, rain suddenly and completely pouring down on them. Without thinking, Lan Zhan grabs Wei Ying by the arm and pulls him under an awning. Wei Ying stumbles against him as they go, and ends up with a hand pressed against Lan Zhan’s chest, the other arm secure where Lan Zhan has cuffed his elbow. Inches apart, they stare out at the downpour. His photograph flutters to the slats of the wooden boardwalk, forgotten. “That was sudden,” Wei Ying says.“Yes.” Lan Zhan says dumbly. He’s so close to Wei Ying he can’t breathe.Wei Ying redoubles his smile. “That was very chivalrous of you, Lan Zhan, pulling me to safety like that. You’re really something of a white knight, aren’t you?” His eyes are bright as though he were looking up at a sky full of sunshine. Lan Zhan looks into them and is lost.In an instant he knows, clearly, the depth of his feelings for Wei Ying. A million desires bubble up inside him, things he wants to see Wei Ying experience, things he wants to look into Wei Ying’s eyes and see. And things he wants to do with him—to him—for him. His whole body boils.Falling in love with Wei Ying would be so easy. Lan Zhan can’t help imagining himself, arms outstretched, tipping backward into the depths of the sea. Letting the current carry him to happiness.He’s kissing him before he can think to stop himself.Wei Ying gives a little whimper and yields to him immediately. His lips taste of years of sunny days. Lan Zhan is melting, dissolving into him like sugar into water. No, it is Wei Ying that is the sugar, endlessly sweet. His free arm slides around Lan Zhan’s waist, and Lan Zhan holds him close, feeling the reality of Wei Ying with him and around him. He could drown here, so happily. He doesn’t need anything else.Does he even need the thing he is searching for?Is this how easy it is to let go of something he’s held on to for years?
How could you?
He pulls back. The voice is stinging in his head. He feels like a traitor. And Wei Ying’s kiss-shined lips are still so tempting. He’s a heartbeat away from falling into him again.“I have to admit, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, his voice a little rusty, a little tremulous. “I really just wanted to spend the day with you.”Lan Zhan can’t imagine that A-Xian, wherever he is, could look half as appealing as Wei Ying looks right now, shining lips and eyes, smile a little subdued, a bright burning sun in his arms against the backdrop of the rain. He can’t help himself. He leans in again.Wei Ying stops him. He withdraws his arm and presses a finger to Lan Zhan’s lips.“Are you here with me, Lan Zhan?” he asks. His voice is uncharacteristically careful. “Are you with me or are you with A-Xian?”The words shatter Lan Zhan’s heart. He wants to answer, but the words are stuck in his throat. He can’t be sure. Even after that kiss, after everything Wei Ying has given him and done for him, he can’t be sure.Wei Ying’s smile turns sad. “That’s what I thought,” he says. “Lan Zhan, I like you. And I really want to be with you. But I want all of you. I want you to choose me.”“Wei Ying, I—” For once in his entire life dedicated to language, Lan Zhan is lost for words.“Don’t,” Wei Ying says. “Not if you’re not sure.” He presses a hand to his own chest. “This heart of mine is my gift to you. You get to decide what to do with it.”He leans up and places a kiss—almost carefully—on the corner of Lan Zhan’s mouth. Then he slowly walks away, rain matting his hair down as he goes. Lan Zhan, frozen, can only watch until he’s gone.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The rain continues for three days. Lan Zhan sits and puts words down on pages without thinking about them. When he reads them back, they are rote and reflexive and monotonous, and Lan Zhan couldn’t care less. He hurts. He hurts more than he ever remembers hurting in this life.Now he has the memory of Wei Ying’s touch, and it courses through his body like fire in his blood. The sweetness of Wei Ying’s lips, the feel of his body pressed against Lan Zhan’s. The closeness, the feeling of finally, finally, finally that had crashed over Lan Zhan like a wave in a storm. The rain pounds down outside. Lan Zhan’s heart pounds faster.More than a dozen times in those three days, he feels on the verge of leaving the house and bursting into Lotus Pier to take Wei Ying in his arms like some kind of romantic movie hero. He doesn’t dare. Wei Ying deserves his whole heart, and Lan Zhan still can’t give it to him.Because the memories of A-Xian, the ones he hadn’t recalled until yesterday, are now falling down all around him. For every thought he has of Wei Ying, he has a memory of A-Xian—walking down the boardwalk with him, eating ice cream with him, watching him striding along the shore and feeling hopelessly, inevitably in love. Feeling like there is—was—forever, somewhere in those eyes, in the careless tousle of his hair, in the way he grabbed Lan Zhan’s hand and squeezed when nobody was looking. I wish I didn’t have to go back, A-Xian tells him in his new memories. I wish we could just spend a year like this.Two years, Lan Zhan had said, something in A-Xian’s boldness making him bold too.Our whole lives, A-Xian had said back then. You’d never be able to get rid of me.I wouldn’t want to, teenage Lan Zhan had said, meaning it with his whole heart. Never.Never, and didn’t that mean forever? Doesn’t forever mean now, too? Then how can he be swaying?He calls Lan Huan late one night. “How’s your search going?” his big brother asks as he answers the phone. There’s laughter in his voice, but the humor disappears when Lan Zhan says his name. “What’s wrong, A-Zhan?”Lan Zhan opens his mouth and speaks more than he has perhaps for years. All the memories, events, emotions come out in a tangled jumble. Lan Huan breathes quietly on the other end of the line and doesn’t interrupt. Lan Zhan finishes with, “And I remember what you told me, when you were here. But I still don’t know what to do.”There’s a beat. Then Lan Huan sighs. “I’m sorry I can’t give you better advice,” he says.
“But this sounds like something you’re going to have to figure out for yourself.”“Must I?” Lan Zhan knows the question is petulant, but he can’t help himself. “And must it be this difficult?”“The answer to both questions is probably yes,” Lan Huan replies. “I imagine it will get harder before it gets easier. I find that there are times in life when all we can do is get through it one second at a time, A-Zhan. But you will come out on the other end, and you will be stronger than when you started. I wish you luck, brother.”
All we can do is get through it one second at a time.
So Lan Zhan does. He sits in his house and he worries, and wonders, and hurts. One second at a time.On the fourth day, the rain lets up, but the sky is still dark with clouds. It’s about dinnertime when the doorbell rings.Wei Ying’s name spills from Lan Zhan’s mouth. Perhaps Wei Ying is sick of waiting. Perhaps he has come to tell Lan Zhan he will accept him, mixed feelings and all. Maybe he’s coming to tell Lan Zhan he never wants to talk to him again. Either way, it would be an end to the hurting, and the muddling, and the feeling as though life has dropped into some interminable limbo of indecision. Lan Zhan hurries to get to the door.He’s saying Wei Ying’s name again as he opens the door. But it’s not Wei Ying who’s waiting outside.“Can I come in?” Wen Qing asks.She sits quietly as Lan Zhan brews tea, accepts a cup from him, and takes a sip as she waits for him to join her at the small table.Then she puts her cup down with an abrupt clink. “I went and slept with him,” she says.Lan Zhan wasn’t expecting this—he doesn’t know if he was expecting anything. He stares, wordless.“Don’t look at me like that,” Wen Qing says. “Come on, Lan Zhan. You’re the only one in town I feel like won’t judge me.”He finds his tongue again. “I won’t judge.”“We’ve been seeing each other, I guess you could call it. It was a trial balloon kind of thing. I wanted to take it slowly. But last night he was so sweet and I went up to his place and things just happened.” She takes another sip of tea, then puts the cup down with even more prejudice than the last time. “I feel like such a fool. I went back on my own word. I had said I wasn’t going to, at least not yet. But…” She shakes her head. “I’ve been saying no so long, I feel like I had the worst possible moment of weakness.”Lan Zhan needs to rewind. “You’ve been seeing each other?”“We had a whole talk,” she says. “I think I’ve misjudged him for a long time. And he made some good points. About A-Ning, about how he really is a grown man now. I think I needed to hear it. So I thought, we could at least have dinner and try to start again. So we have had dinner a few times now. And saw a movie. And that was enough to wear me down! I’m so embarrassed.”“Was it enjoyable?”Wen Qing blinks at him, just as surprised to hear the question as Lan Zhan is to ask it. “I suppose, yes,” she says. “No, not I suppose. It was as good as I thought it would be. Lan Zhan, what do I do? I don’t have a leg to stand on anymore.”She sucks down tea in a series of long sips as Lan Zhan ponders the meaning of her statement. He comes up blank. “What do you mean?”“Well, you’ve been in town long enough to know!” Wen Qing says. “I’m the woman who won’t give Jiang Cheng the time of day. I know people talk about it—how he likes me, but I’m not having it. And I had a reason for it, too. I didn’t like the way he talks about A-Ning. But now that we’ve talked about it, I’m seeing him differently.” A faint blush paints her pale cheeks. “My pride is shot.”At last, Lan Zhan thinks he understands. Pride is something he can relate to. “I’ve always heard that pride doesn’t stand a chance,” he says, “when love is involved.”She very nearly spits out her last drag of tea. Instead, she swallows hard. “Love?” she says, half-choking on the word. “Who said anything about love?”“You’re seeing him,” Lan Zhan says.“Sort of. Sort of seeing him.”“Sort of,” Lan Zhan repeats. “Isn’t that because you are interested in him?”“Interested feels like the wrong word.” She frowns.Lan Zhan’s picked his words very carefully his whole life. He tends to save the romantic and flowery for his writing, preferring to understate things and lean toward the formal when he speaks aloud. But he has a feeling that, in this case, stating things plainly might be the better way to go.He opts for, “You like him.”She screws up her face as though she’s just bitten down on a lemon. “Do I?” she says. Lan Zhan waits. Her face slowly changes, as though she’s struggling to swallow that lemon. “Oh, God, I do, don’t I?” she says finally. “How awful. You know what’s worse? I think I’ve liked him for a while. I think … I think I may be falling for him now. How humiliating.”Lan Zhan can’t help but stifle a smile. He suspects the falling may have happened a bit earlier than Wen Qing is giving it credit for.She looks at her empty teacup for a long time. Left in silence, Lan Zhan falls back into his own mind. The words of this strange conversation echo back at him like a persistent memory. She likes him. She’s liked him for a while. Her pride is hurt. But pride…
Pride doesn’t stand a chance when love is involved.
He said it himself. And now the words seem to rebound back on him. What is keeping him from Wei Ying? Is it some sort of noble loyalty? Or is it simply his own pride? Stubborn insistence on staying the person he was thirteen years ago, when so very much has changed?A-Xian is a memory. And Wei Ying is here, alive and close, and he’s given Lan Zhan the gift of his heart. What you do with it is up to you, he said. And what has Lan Zhan done with it? Held it at arm’s length? And for what?Wei Ying is waiting for him. If what he feels is anything close to what Lan Zhan feels for him, he’s burning alive. Lan Zhan has been keeping him waiting, burning, for far too long.Falling in love with Wei Ying would be so easy, Lan Zhan had thought. As with Wen Qing, Lan Zhan suspects the falling has already happened long ago.Wen Qing looks up and meets his gaze. “I think I have to go,” she says.Lan Zhan nods. “So do I.”The clouds are parting at last and the red-orange rays of sunset are settling over the town as Lan Zhan leaves. He doesn’t go to Lotus Pier, even though that’s where his logical brain would take him if he were thinking. But he’s not thinking; he’s feeling. And his feelings take him across to Wei Ying’s house. He just knows that’s where Wei Ying is. He stands at the side door and knocks as hard as he can.When Wei Ying comes to the door, his hair is disheveled and he has dark circles under his eyes. “Lan Zhan,” he says, “what—”Lan Zhan pulls him into a rough embrace and kisses him.He isn’t gentle. The time for gentle is over. He needs Wei Ying to know his feelings, his resolve. This kiss is a decision, and he’s making it with everything in him.When he pulls away, Wei Ying’s face is red and he’s breathing hard. “You’re sure?” he says.“I’m sure.” The words come out in a breathy rush. Lan Zhan pulls him close again.This time, Wei Ying returns the kiss with equal ferocity. They stumble indoors. Lan Zhan pushes him against a wall, feeling the sweetness of Wei Ying's body crushed against his. He rakes his hands up under Wei Ying’s shirt. The touch of Wei Ying’s bare skin, unbearably warm, sends heat flooding through him. Half-laughing against his mouth, Wei Ying counters by shoving his hands under Lan Zhan's belt and grabbing his ass. Flame roars in Lan Zhan's belly. Wei Ying is more than he ever dreamed of and still not enough. Drunk with desire, he grabs Wei Ying up into his arms and carries him into the bedroom.Wei Ying is real. He’s immediate and real and here. Lan Zhan doesn’t have to stretch his fingers out across yawning canyons of time to reach him. His skin is warm with life under Lan Zhan’s lips, his fingers. He’s all Lan Zhan can think of, the only presence in the universe he cares about. If there was someone else, ever, he’s long forgotten. This, right here, is what Lan Zhan wants, what he needs like he needs air to breathe. He kisses Wei Ying’s body wherever he can. Drinks in the sound of Wei Ying’s groans and shouts. Touches him with sure fingers. Yes. This. Here.When they’re plastered together, when Wei Ying is about to open to him, he whispers shakily, “Lan Zhan. What about A-Xian?”“Who?” Lan Zhan’s answer is almost fierce. He crushes Wei Ying in another kiss.The sunset is long gone and the skies outside are dark when Lan Zhan comes back to himself. Wei Ying is not in the bed when Lan Zhan rolls over to pull him into an embrace. A moment of mild disappointment, tempered by sounds of a running sink from the restroom that means he’s only a few paces away. Memories of the pleasure they took together roll over him. Wei Ying underneath him, his lips opening to Lan Zhan’s kiss, his fingernails scraping harsh marks down Lan Zhan’s back. Lan Zhan immediately wants more. He sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, an instant from getting up and barging into the bathroom. He wants to take and take from what Wei Ying has given him, until he can’t move and the sun is up in the morning.
How could you?
It’s that voice. The one that’s been hounding him since the first night he looked at Wei Ying and saw someone he’d like to touch.
You betrayed me. You swore you’d always keep me in your heart. How could you throw that away?
Is it A-Xian’s voice? Is there an A-Xian inside his head, who saw it all, who he’s irrevocably hurt because of what he’s done?Of course a voice in his head isn’t the real A-Xian, but his heart is breaking anyway, just thinking about A-Xian saying these things. Of how A-Xian would feel, if he knew.I don’t even know who you are anymore, the voice says. Are you even the same person you were a week ago? What’s happened to you?Lan Zhan has cherished his idealism his whole life. He rejected any number of available suitors in New York, even attractive ones, because he was waiting for a certain star, and only its shine would do. But none of them were as attractive as Wei Ying. None of them had barged into his life and turned it upside down the way Wei Ying did. None of them had made him want to embrace the here and now the way Wei Ying does, every single day.
It doesn’t matter. None of that matters. You gave up. You forgot who you are.
Could that be true? Lan Zhan had made his decision. He had chosen Wei Ying. He doesn’t regret that, not for a moment. But this hurts worse than he’d been prepared for. He wants to double over, to shed tears for what he’s done to a dream that he’s held close for thirteen years. He feels like he’s falling. Something in his brain has come apart, realizing all of this. He’s not sure who he is, sitting here in the limbo between past and future. It locks up his whole body.“I’m sorry,” he says fervently. “I’m sorry. I regret…”“You regret what?”Wei Ying’s voice, just behind him. Lan Zhan freezes. Silence hangs in the air for a long moment before Wei Ying speaks again. “What do you regret, Lan Zhan? Sleeping with me?”Lan Zhan finds the strength to turn. The look on Wei Ying’s face is one of horror. “Wei Ying,” he starts. “I wasn’t—”“I think you were.” Wei Ying cuts him off. “I think you were apologizing to your A-Xian.” He almost spits out the name. “I think you can’t let go of him after all. You can’t, can you?” Lan Zhan bolts to his feet and grabs Wei Ying’s wrist. “Listen. Please.”Wei Ying shakes his head slowly. Tears are forming in the corners of his eyes. “Shit, Lan Zhan. I thought—I thought you had chosen me. Shit.” He pulls his arm away violently enough that it causes Lan Zhan to stumble back a few steps. “I need—I need some air.” His hand stinging from Wei Ying’s shove, Lan Zhan can only watch as Wei Ying toes on a pair of shoes and leaves the room. A moment later, the door opens and shuts and Lan Zhan is alone.A group of teenagers are sitting on the beach. They’ve lit a fire that sends smoke into the night. Around the fire, they’re drinking from beer bottles. Two of them are making out. The rest are laughing raucously. When Lan Zhan storms past them, they scatter like seagulls and shout as they vacate the beach.He’d sat in that house, smarting, his heart throbbing painfully, not knowing what to do. And then he heard something familiar: the strains of a flute wafting out over the shore. And then he’d known exactly where Wei Ying had gone. It’s dark but for the moon, a waning half-moon bright but drifting behind the remnants of rainclouds. Wei Ying’s silhouette at the end of the pier is just barely visible. As Lan Zhan traverses the boards, his shoes slip just a little—the wood is still damp from the past days’ rain. He has no choice but to tread carefully as he makes his way toward Wei Ying, haunted the whole time but the music of that flute. As Lan Zhan approaches, he realizes it’s his own song, reflected back at him in a funhouse mirror. A tune that had been comforting, rendered plaintive and mournful by the instrument that plays it.“Wei Ying,” he calls as he gets close enough. The melody of the flute cuts off, and Wei Ying tucks the instrument away. “Don’t you think it hurt like hell?” Wei Ying shouts at him. “This whole time you going on about the past? Don’t you think I got sick of hearing that name?”“I know,” Lan Zhan says. The more steps he takes, the less sure the pier feels under his feet. “I’m sorry.”“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” Wei Ying says. “You don’t sleep with someone and then turn around first thing and tell them you regret it, Lan Zhan! You don’t tell someone you’re sure and then have second thoughts!” “Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan takes another unsure step. “Let me explain.”“What’s there to explain?” Wei Ying laughs, and the laugh is nothing like the sunny laugh Lan Zhan has heard day after day as the months have passed. It’s cold, it’s bitter, and it’s a little maniacal. “You realized you had made a mistake. I can never compare to the A-Xian you love so much. You are still stuck in the goddamn past, and you can’t let it go.”He takes a step backward. Lan Zhan gasps, afraid he is going to topple into the water. But there must be more pier behind him that Lan Zhan can’t see, because Wei Ying is still on his feet. “Come back with me,” Lan Zhan pleads. “Come back to the house and we’ll talk about it.” He tries to stride forward. Wei Ying flashes his palm. “Don’t come closer!” Lan Zhan stops moving. “I needed one thing from you, Lan Zhan. One thing, and that was for you to be in the here and now, with me.”“I was. I am.”“I don’t believe you.” There’s a choked-off sob in those words. “I think you should go back and keep apologizing to the vision you have of this A-Xian. You know, maybe he’s not the person you think he is. Did you ever think of that? That maybe he’s not worth finding?”“It wasn’t him,” Lan Zhan says.Wei Ying falters. “What?”“I wasn’t apologizing to A-Xian.” Lan Zhan didn’t know this himself, when he was whispering I’m sorry and I regret. But now he does. He finally knows the identity of that voice inside him. And it’s not A-Xian.“I have a child inside me, Wei Ying,” he says. “There’s a child in me who wants nothing to change. He wants me to keep being thirteen forever. He wants me to value what I valued then, love who I loved then. And I can’t. Not anymore.”He takes a breath. “I wasn’t apologizing to A-Xian. I was apologizing to that child. I regret only that I have to disappoint him. Because I have changed. You have changed me. And it’s time to let him go.“Because I choose you, Wei Ying. I want you.”And because he has already said the wrong word, it can’t hurt to say the right ones.“I’m in love with you.”The phrase is strange on his tongue, but when Lan Zhan hears it, he knows it’s true.Something in Wei Ying’s body shifts then, relaxes, although his face is still in shadow. “Lan Zhan,” he says, the word an exhalation. “I—” His voice breaks. “I need to tell you—” At last, at long last, he steps forward. And the wood plank beneath his feet gives out.There’s a crackling of splintering wood, and Wei Ying falls. He starts to cry out, then the sound is cut off as a dim splash sounds below. Then nothing. Lan Zhan’s heart lurches. He doesn’t have time to think. He charges forward and plunges after him.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Water, frigid and punishing, envelops him, swallowing him in a moment. After Wei Ying fell, there was no splashing about, no sight of him thrashing or fighting to breach the surface, and now Lan Zhan knows why. He’s been pulled under by a current stronger than any man, and he’s in complete darkness, lost and cold and quickly losing oxygen. His lungs are strong, but no one can hold a single breath forever, and he fights second to second to stay alert. Where is Wei Ying? He can’t see a thing. Later, perhaps he’ll wonder why he even bothered instead of calling for help. He’s useless down here – as powerless against that riptide as Wei Ying kept warning. Later, he’ll realize how close he came to death down here. But now, the only thing he can think of is Wei Ying. Wei Ying, and the water, as he loses the last of his breath, as water flows in everywhere and the world becomes unbearably cold.The next thing he knows, he’s gagging and throwing up water. It gushes from him, and bit by bit, air refills his lungs. He’s wheezing and gulping for a full minute, his brain focusing only on the reflex and the desire to get breathing again, before he thinks to try to make sense of what happened, where he is, how he survived. He finds a sensation first. The touch of a hand on his back, gently rubbing in circles. Now a voice. “...t’s it, get it all out. You’re okay. You’re okay.”The world resolves into focus around him. The first thing he sees is wet stone, beneath him. Then stone walls rising on every side. He cranes his neck upwards, and all he can see is stars.He knows this place.He coughs a few more times and finally realizes he’s been rescued.“Feeling better?” says the voice, next to him. Lan Zhan turns, propping himself up into a sitting position, and sees the outline of a face in the dark. “Wei Ying?”Relief rushes through him like a riptide, sudden and overwhelming. He reaches out with one hand to make contact with that face, lit only by the light of a half-moon peeking out from behind the clouds. The warmth of Wei Ying’s cheek is unmistakable. “You’re alive,” he says, dumbly.“Afraid so,” Wei Ying says, and Lan Zhan doesn’t need the light to know the grin that flashes with the words. “What an ordeal, Lan Zhan! You go in to save me and I end up having to save you! Really, you’re so rude to make me do that. I’m exhausted.”“I’m—” I’m sorry, Lan Zhan was about to say, even though he knows Wei Ying isn’t serious. He’s just realizing it now, but he’s in pain. He has bruises. He’s hit rocks—or Wei Ying has left bruises from hauling him to safety. He is alive, but he will be in pain for a few days.Wei Ying has taken off his sodden clothes and laid them out on the slab of stone where they sit. It’s not spacious, but there’s enough room to do so. The moonlight is shining on one of the stone walls around them, but it’s still dim, and he can barely see Wei Ying’s features. “Take off your clothes, Lan Zhan, you’re going to freeze to death,” he admonishes.Lan Zhan obeys, wincing as his muscles complain. Wei Ying sets out the stripped clothes, rising to drape them over the top of the stone walls. Lan Zhan watches as he works, trying to put these hints of recognition together. It’s like nearly drowning has slowed the motion of his mind, and there’s something dancing just on the far side of his perception, a knowledge that he’s struggling to grasp.He’s naked with Wei Ying again, he realizes. Just like he’d been earlier in the night. Different circumstances, but still that sense of connection between them, gratitude and affection mixing in his heart. “Thank you for saving me,” he says.“Oh, please don’t thank me,” Wei Ying says with a laugh. “I get embarrassed. Besides, I was the idiot who went out there in the first place.”“It was my fault,” Lan Zhan rejoins. “I shouldn’t have let you go.”Wei Ying shakes his head. “No. I should have stayed and told you.” Lan Zhan’s heart stops for a moment. “Told me what?”Bright dark eyes catch his in the moonlight. “I haven’t been entirely honest with you, Lan Zhan.”That piece of knowledge, the one that’s flickering at the far edge of his perception, suddenly barrels toward him in utter clarity. Lan Zhan almost falls backwards. His heart pounds like the surf in a hurricane. He reaches out and grabs Wei Ying’s hand.“Where are we?” he asks. Carefully. So carefully.Wei Ying’s smile is brilliant even in the darkness. “Just my little hiding place,” he says. “A little alcove a bit off the pier that I discovered when I was a teenager. It was easier to get to than the shore.”“Your hiding place.” Lan Zhan echoes the words. He feels as though his voice might break. “Have you … told anyone else about this place?”Wei Ying squeezes his hand.“Only one person,” he says. “Ever.”There’s salt on Lan Zhan’s lips, but not from seawater. His eyes are wet.“You’re,” he starts, then stops again. “A-Xian?”Neither of them breathe. The water laps up against the edge of the cove, persistent and hungry.“I should have told you,” Wei Ying says in a voice too soft to even be his.Lan Zhan crushes him in an embrace.He drags his fingers into Wei Ying’s wet hair and pushes Wei Ying’s head against his shoulder. His other arm, around Wei Ying’s waist, pins them together. He struggles to breathe. “A-Xian,” he says, his voice actually breaking this time. He kisses Wei Ying’s ear, his hair. “A-Xian.” The name is utterly inadequate to meet the intensity of the moment, but it’s all he can think to say.Wei Ying stirs against him. “Lan Zhan,” he breathes against Lan Zhan’s collarbone. “Don’t call me that anymore. I don’t want to be A-Xian anymore.”Lan Zhan pulls back, afraid he has made some intolerable mistake.Wei Ying takes his hand, plays across the back of it with his fingers. “That was a bad time in my life,” he says softly. “You were the best part of it. I didn’t want to go back there, Lan Zhan. I wanted you, but I didn’t want A-Xian to make a return. I wanted you to see me as I am.”“What happened?” Lan Zhan is afraid to ask, but he has to. He has to know why his best memory is somehow a bad one.“You remember how I told you that after Uncle Jiang took me in, things got worse?” Wei Ying says. “He and my stepmother, Yu-furen—their marriage was already falling apart, and I made it worse. She hated me. She saw me as someone Uncle Jiang favored over her own son, and she made sure both he and I knew it. I couldn’t do anything right. I would bring trouble to her house. There was a time when I thought she was literally going to chop my hand off.”Lan Zhan shudders. Suddenly A-Xian’s words that day—you ever feel worthless?—make a lot more sense.“At the time, Jiang Cheng resented me too, because she kept talking about how his father hated him, and Jiang Cheng believed her. It was hard.” He heaves a sigh. “At the time, I escaped into wuxia and xianxia dramas. Made up my own courtesy name like an-old time cultivator, Wei Wuxian. My sister called me A-Xian, and that’s probably where you heard it.“Wei Ying couldn’t do anything right, but Wei Wuxian could do anything he wanted. Including get Wei Ying into even more trouble. I did a lot of things wrong back then. And then here you show up, the one good thing in that whole time, and you keep talking about A-Xian. I didn’t want to go back there, Lan Zhan. It was like a punch in the gut, every time you said that name.”Lan Zhan’s eyes are awash with tears. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”Wei Ying raises Lan Zhan’s hand to his lips and kisses it softly. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Now that I know you chose me, I don’t mind as much. I’m glad A-Xian was someone’s good memory, even if it wasn’t mine.”Leaning forward, Lan Zhan touches Wei Ying’s forehead with his own. “You were,” he said. “You were the best memory.”The touch lingers, but Lan Zhan’s brain has started moving again. And now the discrepancies between stories are puzzling him. He straightens up and frowns. “But—A-Xian was here on vacation. You’ve lived here your whole life.”Wei Ying huffs a soft laugh. “I believe what I told you was, I’ve lived on the water my whole life,” he says. “My family is from Yunmeng.”“And you and your siblings all moved here?”“At that time, this was the only place we had really good memories.” Wei Ying shakes his head. “We couldn’t wait to come back. I don’t know how we decided on running a restaurant, but it sort of coalesced into our collective dream. My sister was always very intent on the three of us being together.”“Why did you offer to help me find him? Why didn’t you just tell me it was you?”In the moonlight, Lan Zhan thinks he catches a flush on Wei Ying’s cheeks. “I should have,” he says, once again. “I should have said it right off the bat, that I remembered you from back then. But when you asked me if I knew an A-Xian, I froze. I didn’t want to go back there. And after that, I just liked you so much, and I wanted so much for you to like me. So I led you on a wild goose chase, hoping if you spent time with me, you’d fall for me. Like me instead of him.”“I did,” Lan Zhan says readily. “I do.”“It didn’t go exactly the way I planned it,” Wei Ying says. “But you found me in the end, didn’t you? So it wasn’t entirely a wild goose cha—”Lan Zhan leans in and kisses him silent.It’s a strange kiss, in a strange place in a stranger situation, but Wei Ying melts into it happily, and for several seconds they just inhale the feeling of it, the sweetness and the lingering salt from Lan Zhan’s earlier tears. Lan Zhan wants to pull him into his arms and crush him in another embrace, but he holds himself back—there will be time for that. For now there is just this kiss, a continuation of everything he’s been feeling since Wei Ying walked into his life, but also the beginning of something new.And then there is the sound of a horn. Wei Ying pulls back just as a searchlight illuminates his face and makes him squint.“We’re being rescued,” he says, and stands up to wave in the direction of the searchlight. “Lan Zhan, get up and help me get their attention, would you?”Lan Zhan obeys, wondering why he suddenly finds the whole situation wildly funny. He twitches his lips to keep back a smile as he rises to his feet.“Someone must have heard us go splash and called the authorities,” Wei Ying rattles on as the boat approaches. “I hope they have blankets. I’m not putting those clothes on again, and I’d rather not be standing naked on a police boat. Hey! Over here!”There’s an answering shout from the boat. Lan Zhan gathers up their things. He’d also prefer not to be naked, but he’s also a little sad that they’ve been interrupted.There will be time, though. There will be more time.There are indeed blankets on the boat, along with a sternly frowning Jiang Cheng and a worried sick Jiang Yanli. Overseeing operations is the town’s sheriff, a burly man named Mingjue who settles down to read a tattered copy of Shogun once everyone is sorted and they are on their way back to the dock. If Lan Zhan’s memory serves, this is Nie Huaisang’s big brother, and the fact that they are so different in temperament and appearance makes for a bit of amusement. Jiang Yanli fusses over Wei Ying like a big sister ought to, and Lan Zhan can just see her calling Wei Ying “A-Xian.” He wonders how many clues he missed on the way to this moment. A-Xian did talk about a sister, a brother, a stepmother. And Wei Ying did mention he had a teenage crush too. None of that matters now, though. The mystery has been solved. It’s time to enjoy the happy ending.He wakes the next morning in Wei Ying’s bed, and this time Wei Ying hasn’t left him alone there. He rolls into Wei Ying’s still sleeping form and inhales his scent, soaking up the closeness. He hasn’t betrayed his inner child after all. He can, at last, have it all.“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying mumbles.Lan Zhan starts to say “A-Xian” and “Wei Ying” at the same time.It comes out “A-Ying.”Wei Ying seems happy with that. He hums briefly and snuggles in closer, then falls asleep again.Later that day they swim to the cove again. Its location has been given up to the wider world now, but it’s still deserted when they arrive. Lan Zhan pushes Wei Ying down on the stone and makes love to him there, far enough from the beach that no one can hear Wei Ying’s moans.Afterward, they lounge on the stone, relaxed and happy. “Did we go to all those places?” Lan Zhan asks. “The places you took me that day.”“Some of them. Some of them were just an excuse to spend time with you.” “I was confused,” Lan Zhan says. “I kept having memories, but I didn’t know if they were real.”“You know,” Wei Ying says, pointing his finger, “I thought you were madly in love with me. How come you didn’t remember things? For better or for worse, I remember the whole week.”“I don’t know,” Lan Zhan says. “My uncle was cross with me when he found out about you. He told me to try to forget you. I must have tried. But there were some things I couldn’t forget.” He squeezes Wei Ying’s hand.“What the heck did you tell your uncle?” Wei Ying asks. “That you were going to marry me?”Lan Zhan can feel his face getting hot. That is exactly what he’d said.Wei Ying figures this out after a moment of silence and collapses in laughter. “I’m flattered!” he says. “Don’t be embarrassed, Lan Zhan. Why do you think I remembered everything? I was pretty taken with you, too. ”Lan Zhan thinks about the boy he was, reserved and a little afraid of everything that was new. He can’t imagine anyone would be taken with him. “Why?”“You were so cool and mysterious! I figured you had a million secrets and if I could just puzzle you out, I’d find out so much. You were a tough nut to crack, though. Plus, you were so cute.” Lan Zhan frowns, trying to figure out how he could have been considered cute as an awkward teenager who couldn’t socialize. Wei Ying can read his thoughts immediately. “You were! You still are. I still have that photo, you know. I’ll show it to you when we get back.”“May I have a copy?” The words leap to Lan Zhan’s tongue before he can stop them. This just sends Wei Ying into another fit of laughter. “May you!” he bursts out. “Lan Zhan, we’ve slept together, you professed your love for me, you may have anything you like.” He hems and haws. “Did you mean it? When you said you loved me? Or was that just to get me to come back?”He doesn’t wait for an answer. “Well, even if it was just to get me to come back, it worked! Here I am. For the record, Lan Zhan, I love you too. I never got over you. I’m still not over you. When I realized it was you, I couldn’t believe my good luck. I must have done something good in a past life, though I can’t think what.”“It’s true,” Lan Zhan says, answering the question belatedly.“That I did something good in a past life?”“No. The other thing.”Wei Ying’s smile stretches from ear to ear. “That you love me?”Lan Zhan nods.“Then you’ve got to say it out loud. Or I won’t believe it.”Frowning, Lan Zhan asks, “How loud?”“You have to shout it from the rooftops!” Wei Ying says with another giggle. “We’re in our secret cove, Lan Zhan. You could scream it and nobody would hear. Go on then. Let’s hear those lungs of yours make some noise.”“No.” Lan Zhan’s ears are itching just at the thought of it.But he does lean down and whisper it in Wei Ying’s ear.Jiang Cheng and Wen Qing are sitting at the bar when they return to Lotus Pier. Jiang Cheng scowls. “You two gave us a heart attack,” he informs Lan Zhan and Wei Ying, “You’re lucky someone saw you two fall, or you might have been in serious trouble.” He shakes a finger at them. Lan Zhan can’t help but notice that he only has one hand free—the other is folded into Wen Qing’s.Lan Zhan catches Wen Qing’s gaze. She smiles and nods back at him. Thank you, she mouths. When Lan Huan hears the news that Lan Zhan has found his childhood love, he insists on coming down to meet him. Faced with the surprise that A-Xian and Wei Ying are one and the same, he laughs a deep, rich laugh and claps Wei Ying on the shoulder. “A-Zhan, you do have a flair for the dramatic,” he chides Lan Zhan, but with a smile.“I beg your pardon, but I’m the one with the flair for the dramatic. I just took Lan Zhan along for the ride,” Wei Ying says.“Oh, you don’t know A-Zhan well enough, then,” Lan Huan responds. “Drama follows wherever he goes. I should tell you about when we went to parties in the city, and young women tried to approach him. You have never seen a pleasant day turn icy so quickly.”“Brother!” Lan Zhan is appalled.But Wei Ying claps his hands. “I can just see it!” he declares. “Lan Zhan breaking hearts left and right. A string of jilted women from Central Park to Chinatown.”“Wei Ying.” “Don’t be embarrassed, Lan Zhan! It was for a noble cause! What I mean is, it’s all because you were still madly in love with me.”“That is true.”Now it’s Wei Ying’s turn to blush. “You can’t just say things like that!” “You told me before that I had to shout it,” Lan Zhan reminds him.“Still! At least give me a little warning!”Lan Zhan doesn’t think he will.A few minutes later, when Lan Huan has excused himself to visit Lotus Pier’s restrooms, Lan Zhan and Wei Ying are approached by none other than Jin Guangyao, who bids them hello with the same acid-laced smile. “Good evening, gentlemen.”“What do you want,” says Wei Ying flatly.“Well, that all depends,” Jin Guangyao says. “Have you decided to sell Lotus Pier to me at long last?”“The answer to that question is the same it has always been,” Wei Ying says. “Namely, fuck you.”“I feared you might say that.” Jin Guangyao’s smile never breaks. “In that case, my business is with your paramour, not you.” He turns to Lan Zhan. “Mr. Lan, I believe I have come into some information that might be useful with your search. That is, if you are interested in doing me a small favor in return.”His ingratiating smile rubs Lan Zhan the wrong way. “It’s not necessary anymore,” he says. “I have found who I was looking for.”For the first time, Jin Guangyao’s normal polish cracks. “Oh,” he says, sounding perturbed. “In that case, I may just have to press you to do me a favor out of he goodness of your heart.”“Make it quick,” Wei Ying cuts in. “We have a guest.”“Yes. Well. About that. The gentleman you are with tonight, the tall one.”“My brother?”“Of course, of course he is, anyone could see it.” And just as Lan Zhan is expecting something sinister to issue from Jin Guangyao’s lips, he leans in and says, somewhat urgently, “I don’t suppose you could introduce me?”“Well! I wasn’t expecting that!” Wei Ying says as they head home. Lan Huan has opted to stay behind to have one more drink with Jin Guangyao, in whom he seems to be fairly interested. “I’ve never seen Jin Guangyao look like a lovesick teenager before. I suppose it’s going around.”“I would be happy for my brother if they got along well,” Lan Zhan says.They’re hand in hand, taking the long way home because the sunset is so pretty over the town. Lan Zhan looks up to appreciate the colors—the darkening blue of the sky, the purple clouds and orange glow of the horizon. Sometimes he walks around the block to get home—past the general store, around the corner, and back toward the water. This is the first time he has brought Wei Ying with him, and it feels perfect, folding Wei Ying into this little ritual he’s created for himself over the months he’s lived here. As they pass the store, there’s a call of “Hey!” from inside. They stop and turn. Nie Huaisang comes bustling out the front door.Like that first day Lan Zhan moved in, he has a little souvenir fan in his hands, and he’s fluttering it nervously. “Wei-xiong,” he says with a nod at Wei Ying, and “Lan-xiong. It’s been a dog’s age! I hear you are getting used to life here. Isn’t it so nice, this little town? Do you feel like a native yet? I hear you’ve been doing quite well.”We are, says the little voice in Lan Zhan’s head. The child inside him is content at last. He nods.“Remember, if you ever need anything--”“--What are you going to do if he needs anything?” scoffs Wei Ying. “Leave this one to me, Nie-xiong. I’ll take care of him.”“Oh, really?” Nie Huaisang’s eyebrows shoot up. “I see how it is. Well. Regardless. Glad to have you as part of the community, Lan-xiong. Best of luck with everything.”“He already has the best of luck,” Wei Ying shoots back. “He has me. Don’t you, Lan Zhan?”Lan Zhan nods his affirmation. “Yes. Yes, I do.”Lan Zhan has broken his writer’s block.A-Ling and A-Yuan have been rescued at last, and their story has ended. More importantly, he knows now what to do with A-Qing and the Blind Priest. It is still inevitably a tragedy—that was always going to be the way of it, and he’s conceded that much. But what he didn’t know before is that it’s also a flashback. The entire story of A-Qing, and the blind priest, and the madman, all happened in the past. The main line of the story is not what happened to them. It’s what happens when the madman comes back, and it’s an ideal way to reintroduce his fan-favorite characters Sizhui and the Ghost General to deal with him.But how do Sizhui and the Ghost General find out about this story? If past is prologue, there must be a way to bring that past into the present. There must be someone else in the story to bridge the gap between the original story and the crisis unfolding in the main plot. A sort of sorcerer, perhaps, that can look through the mirror of time and relate the story to our heroes. A new character comes immediately to mind. A dynamic figure, a scoundrel with a heart of gold, who sets out to right the wrongs done so long ago. He will aid Sizhui and his companion in their quest. And he will do so cracking jokes, performing miracles, and becoming a sort of surrogate father to the orphaned Sizhui. A sorcerer and a swordsman, with a tongue as sharp as his blade and a larger-than-life presence. Lan Zhan names him on instinct. He is the Yiling Laozu, the patriarch of an obscure sect of magic-wielding cultivators.In Lan Zhan’s mind, he looks a little like Wei Ying.THE END