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After reading the same sentence four times and understanding nothing, Wei Ying finally admits defeat. She shoves aside her textbook and rolls onto her back. “Ugh,” she says. Then, louder, “Ughhhhh.”
When this is still met with silence, she sits up. “Hey, what are you guys doing?”
“Painting A-Cheng’s nails,” says Nie Huaisang, sitting cross-legged on Wei Ying’s bed. She waves Jiang Cheng’s hand at Wei Ying, showing off the deep purple colour. “Want me to do yours after, Wei Ying?”
“Nah, I’ll chip them in like five minutes, it’s not worth it,” Wei Ying says, but when Nie Huaisang pouts, she adds, “You can do my toenails if you want.”
“Nice try, freak, but I’m not touching your sweaty feet,” Nie Huaisang says. Both she and Jiang Cheng duck automatically to dodge the pillow that Wei Ying lobs at their heads.
“I’m so bored,” Wei Ying whines, getting up and collapsing face first onto the bed. “I have no plans this weekend, can you believe that?”
“It literally doesn’t surprise me at all,” says Jiang Cheng, stretching out his legs over Wei Ying’s back. She slaps at them ineffectually.
“Wei Ying, if you really don’t have plans…” says Nie Huaisang. “Want to do me a favour?”
“Sure,” Wei Ying says automatically. Then, because she’s known Nie Huaisang for years and she’s not a complete fool, “Wait, no. Maybe. Tell me what it is first.”
“You know Mo Xuanyu? That weird theatre kid from my sociology seminar? She invited me to her house party on Friday. Wanna come with me?”
“No, I hate parties, they suck,” Wei Ying says. “Also, isn’t Mo Xuanyu one of the Jin half-sisters? Any party hosted by the Jins is guaranteed to be full of my nemeses.”
“You’re a twenty-year-old student, you do not have nemeses,” Jiang Cheng says.
“Watch out or you’ll become one of them,” Wei Ying says.
“Ohhhh, I’m so scared,” Jiang Cheng says, so of course Wei Ying has to push him off the bed and he drags Nie Huaisang with him and somehow they’re all on the floor wrestling and Nie Huaisang is shrieking, “Not the nail polish! I just did those! Guys!”
Wei Ying extricates herself after aiming a final kick at Jiang Cheng’s solar plexus. She extends a hand to Nie Huaisang and says, “Okay, give me your phone so I can see the house party event,” mostly just to make her stop her fake crying over Jiang Cheng’s now-ruined nails.
Nie Huaisang ends the waterworks instantly, and fishes out her phone, which she hurls with absolutely zero accuracy at Wei Ying. Once Wei Ying has retrieved it from the corner of the room, she settles back onto the bed and opens Facebook to see the event.
It’s titled H*~o*U~~Se** ~p*A~r*T~y*, which already makes Wei Ying want to kill herself.
“Why are theatre kids all like this,” she asks.
“Because they live to be annoying,” Jiang Cheng says, even though he technically counts as a theatre kid now, seeing as he did the lighting for Hamlet last term because he had that weird crush on the guy who was playing Hamlet’s uncle, a fact which Wei Ying would remind him of, were she not busily occupied scrolling through the guest list. It’s going from bad to worse.
“Jin Zixuan, ugh, Wang Lingjiao, yikes!, Jin Zixun, shoot me in the fucking face,” she says. “Sangsang, why are you even going to this party?”
“Ugh, okay, don’t tell da-jie I told you this, but she’s trying to get with Lan Huan, and Lan Huan is super close to Meng Yao, so she’ll definitely be at the party, and I said I’d go along for moral support,” says Nie Huaisang. “But obviously Lan Huan is completely into her, so they’ll probably leave to fuck within like, five minutes and I’ll be all alone. Lesbians are the worst! Anyway, that’s why I need you guys to come.”
“When did I get roped into this?” Jiang Cheng complains. “Maybe I’ve got plans this weekend.”
“Funny joke, sweetie,” Nie Huaisang says, patting his thigh gently. “Come on, it’ll be fun! We haven’t gone out together in ages.”
“Yeah, and there’s a reason for that. Let’s think about our track record at parties for a second,” says Jiang Cheng. He points a finger at Nie Huaisang. “You always spend the entire time cornering some hapless straight girl and trying to convince her that she should dump her boyfriend—”
“I just want them to know that a better life is possible! Dating women is possible! Women are waiting with open arms!” Nie Huaisang says.
“—Wei Ying gets wasted, tries to fight someone, causes untold destruction—”
“You’re one to talk,” Wei Ying grumbles. “Who was it that smashed all those crystal wine glasses at Meng Yao’s last birthday party?”
“I was severely provoked by Wen Zhuliu, and you know it.”
“Come on, guys,” Nie Huaisang wheedles. “The Jins are absolutely loaded, there’ll be so much free alcohol.”
This is a compelling argument. Besides, Wei Ying seriously does have zero plans this weekend; anything’s better than sitting in bed in her underwear watching Netflix for nine hours straight, which is how she’d spent last weekend.
“Okay, fine, I’ll come,” says Wei Ying, “but on one condition: I’m going to find the hottest person on this guest list and then you guys are going to help me get with her.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Jiang Cheng says. “Not this again. I thought we decided that was a terrible idea after last time.”
“Just because you suck at being a wingman—”
“You literally passed out, Wei Ying—”
“No more fighting! I accept the condition!” Nie Huaisang shouts. “Can I pick who it is? Please let me choose.”
“Over my dead body,” Wei Ying says, but she pats the bed beside her. “You can look through the list with me, though.”
Nie Huaisang scrambles over and leans her head against Wei Ying’s shoulder as she scrolls dismally through the guest list. The pickings are extremely slim. It’s depressing.
“Okay, all of the Jins are right out, I’d literally rather be drop-kicked into the sun,” Wei Ying says. “And sadly I’m guessing Lan Huan and da-jie are also off-limits?”
“Yes, you homewrecker,” says Nie Huaisang, jabbing her expertly in the ribs. “Also, the idea of you kissing da-jie makes me want to throw up, so don’t even think about it.”
Wei Ying is absolutely thinking about it, but Nie Huaisang doesn’t need to know that.
“A shame, because they’re actually the only two good-looking people attending this party so far,” Wei Ying says. She continues scrolling. “Ooh, Mianmian’s clicked going—”
“In your fucking dreams,” says Jiang Cheng.
“I resent your tone, but I know Wen Qing wants to bang her, so I’ll unfortunately have to pass,” Wei Ying says. “Okay, how about Xue Yang?”
“She’s sexy but I hear she bites,” Nie Huaisang says. “Like, intense biting. Someone went to hospital once.”
“How do you—never mind, I don’t want to know,” Wei Ying says. “Anyway, so far she’s the best-looking of the people I’m allowed to kiss, so it’s a definite maybe.”
“It’s your funeral,” Nie Huaisang says, shrugging.
“Hey, who’s Qin Su? She’s kind of cute.”
“A new Jin half-sister,” Nie Huaisang says without even looking over. “Didn’t you hear the gossip? Everyone was talking about it last term.”
“What the actual hell,” says Wei Ying. “Not another one. How many of them are there?”
“Who knows at this point. Big Daddy Jin really got around.”
“Ew,” says Wei Ying. “Don’t ever call him that again.”
“You make me sick,” Jiang Cheng says.
“I’m just saying, he must have a little something-something… Anyway, apparently Qin Su found out that Jin Guangshan was her dad, but he kept denying it, because her mother’s a family friend of Madam Jin’s, so it’s super awkward. But Qin Su kicked up this massive fuss and forced him to do a DNA test to prove that they’re definitely related, so now he has to recognise her as his daughter and include her in the, like, Jin daughters’ joint trust fund or whatever.”
“Hmm, pretty bold of her, I’m kind of impressed,” says Wei Ying. “She’s gotta be a maybe too. Even if she is a Jin.”
“If you’re going to suspend your ‘No Jins’ rule for one of the Jin sisters, it might as well be Meng Yao,” Nie Huaisang says. “Did you know—”
“—she can lift her whole leg over her head,” Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng drone in unison. “We know.”
“When are you going to shut up about those fucking photos?” Jiang Cheng demands.
“Never,” Nie Huaisang says dreamily. “Absolutely never.”
Wei Ying, who has heard about Meng Yao’s purported flexibility one too many times, returns to scrolling the guest list. She’s nearly reached the end, so she’s mentally starting to weigh up the pros and cons of getting with Qin Su versus Xue Yang, when she notices a user she’s not friends with, right at the bottom.
Lan Zhan doesn’t have a profile picture, only the standard grey silhouette of a woman, so Wei Ying taps through to her profile, which is completely devoid of photos or, in fact, any information at all.
“People with completely private Facebook accounts are so annoying,” she complains, scrolling through Lan Zhan’s profile to find something, anything at all.
“It’s actively homophobic is what it is,” Nie Huaisang says, leaning over to look at the screen. “Who are you looking at—oh.”
“Oh what?”
“That’s Lan Huan’s sister,” Nie Huaisang says. “I haven’t met her but apparently she’s frosty as fuck.”
This is not, Wei Ying has to admit, particularly encouraging.
“Is she hot?” Wei Ying says, tapping fruitlessly at the blank profile picture like a photo of Lan Zhan is magically going to spring up.
“Dude, how am I supposed to know?” Nie Huaisang says, like she’s not the biggest social media stalker Wei Ying has ever met.
“Well, hot or not, Lan Zhan can’t be worse-looking or have a worse personality than the rest of this guest list,” says Wei Ying resolutely. “And if she’s ‘frosty as fuck’, she probably doesn’t bite, and she’s also probably not a Jin offspring, so she’s already better than my other two options. Target acquired!”
“Don’t call her your target, Wei Ying!” Nie Huaisang says. “We respect women in this house!”
“Neither of you respect women,” says Jiang Cheng wearily, “as has been made very clear by this conversation, and, like, every conversation you two have ever had, ever. Is it my turn to find someone at the party from hell to get with?”
Nie Huaisang says instantly, “Absolutely not. I can’t have both of you abandoning me.”
“Wei Ying is definitely not going to succeed with Lan ‘frosty as fuck’ Zhan, so I wouldn’t worry,” Jiang Cheng says.
“Just you watch,” Wei Ying says. “Also, literally everybody on this guest list is a woman, so yes, I’ll absolutely wingman you, it’ll be hilarious.”
“Drop dead,” says Jiang Cheng.
In the days that follow, Wei Ying makes a half-hearted attempt to try and find Lan Zhan on other social media platforms, with zero success. She has Instagram, but it’s private, and her profile picture is a generic photograph of a sunset. Wei Ying doesn’t mind too much, though; no matter what ends up happening with Lan Zhan, it’ll make for a funny story. She figures that’s about all she can hope for from a party hosted by the Jins.
❖
“Turn towards me,” Nie Huaisang says commandingly, and Wei Ying does an obliging twirl. “Mm, I like the skirt better.”
“Really?” Wei Ying asks, smoothing her hands over the pleather trousers she just spent about ten minutes squeezing herself into. They belong to Nie Huaisang, obviously, although Wei Ying doesn’t think she’s ever seen Nie Huaisang wear them. This is not unusual: the only thing more extensive than Nie Huaisang’s knowledge of gossip is her wardrobe.
“Yeah, your legs looked like ten miles long, it was hot,” Nie Huaisang says, resting her head on her hand. She’s sipping a drink that is a very violent green colour. “Try it on again!”
“Ugh,” Wei Ying says, peeling herself out of the trousers. “I don’t see what was wrong with the jeans I was wearing before.”
“Come on, Wei Ying, it’s a party,” Nie Huaisang says. “I’m letting you wear that dumb t-shirt, please indulge me with this.”
Nie Huaisang herself is wearing a cowl-necked metallic minidress that is completely backless. She’s pulled her hair back into a complex net of braids and dusted a lot of shimmer onto her collarbones. Next to her, Wei Ying has to admit that her own original outfit of ripped boyfriend jeans and a cropped t-shirt with tiny chillies over the nipples had been a little more, uh, dressed-down.
She pulls on the black pleated miniskirt, also taken from Nie Huaisang’s wardrobe, and does another twirl, making the skirt flare up. The waistline of the skirt is just low enough to leave a strip of bare skin beneath the hem of her t-shirt.
Nie Huaisang claps and says, “Yes, absolutely, this. For sure. A-Cheng, tell her she looks pretty.”
From the beanbag in the corner, Jiang Cheng says, “Go to hell,” without looking up from his phone. He’s pissed off because he’s been ready for about an hour at this point, which is his own fault for never learning that ‘pre-drinks at eight’ means ‘we will start getting changed at eight and probably undergo several outfit changes before Nie Huaisang is satisfied’. Wei Ying throws the pleather trousers at him, which he catches in midair, again without looking up.
Wei Ying gives herself a once-over in the mirror, hands on hips. Her legs do look good, she has to admit.
“Okay, thank God that’s over,” she says. “Can I have a drink now?”
“Baby, you can have as many as you like,” says Nie Huaisang.
Several drinks later, their kitchen is a mess, Nie Huaisang has already posted to her Instagram story six times, they’ve taken approximately one million selfies to send to Yanli, and somehow there is glitter everywhere, mostly on Jiang Cheng.
“Oh, hey, the Uber is here,” Nie Huaisang says, clapping her hands together. “Shoes on, ladies, let’s go!”
From the shoe rack, Wei Ying selects her least beaten up pair of platform trainers and crouches to the floor to lace them up. Next to her, Nie Huaisang is shoving her feet into a pair of stilettos with a very high, very skinny heel. If Wei Ying tried to wear those shoes, she’d break her neck within five minutes, but she’s seen Nie Huaisang sprint for the bus in them without even wobbling.
Jiang Cheng follows them to the door, putting on his floor-length black coat and the giant, bright purple snood Yanli had stress-knitted for him last year when she was doing her final exams. Jiang Cheng always complains that it’s a crime against fashion but he still wears it everywhere.
“Oh my God, A-Cheng, you didn’t even finish your wine!” Nie Huaisang shrieks. She rushes to the table and picks up the nearly-full wine glass. “Come on, drink it now, quick! Down it!”
“I can’t down a whole fucking glass of wine,” says Jiang Cheng indignantly.
Wei Ying, halfway into her big black puffer jacket, says, “I’ll do it, then,” the surest way to get Jiang Cheng to do anything he says he doesn’t want to do.
“No, fuck off, it’s mine,” he says, taking the glass from Nie Huaisang and sipping at it delicately.
“Not like that!” Nie Huaisang says, exasperated. “You have to down it.”
She tilts up the bottom of the glass so quickly that Jiang Cheng has to lean his head back to stop the glass spilling everywhere. Even so, most of the wine goes on his face and also maybe up his nose, judging by all the gasping and spluttering.
Wei Ying slow claps from the door, which makes Jiang Cheng rush at her. Laughing, Wei Ying skips out into the street, and then they’re all tumbling into the Uber. The driver looks distinctly unimpressed.
Once everyone’s limbs are safely inside the vehicle and they’re on their way, Wei Ying checks her phone to see a message from Wen Qing: Saw ur instagram story are u going to that Jin party???
Wei Ying replies, yeaaaaaa ! are u comign pls say ur coming!!!!!!
Wen Qing says, Wouldn’t be caught dead in that place lol, also I’m on night shifts w my hospital placement this week so it’s a double no. Can give u a lift home if u want?
“Wen Qing says she can give us a ride home later,” Wei Ying announces.
“Tell her she is a goddess amongst women,” says Nie Huaisang.
omg yes PLEASE, Wei Ying texts. nhs says ur a goddess amongst women and i agree xxxx
That done, she turns to the others and says, “Okay, time to lay out the wingman rules.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Jiang Cheng groans. “I was really hoping you’d have forgotten about that.”
“Nope,” says Wei Ying. “I’m wearing a very short skirt and I’m on my way to a party at the Jin mansion, I’d better be getting a hot makeout session out of this ordeal. Also, you’re fired as a wingman after last time, so jot that down.”
“That is literally so unfair,” Jiang Cheng complains. “I am one hundred percent a safer wingman option than Nie Huaisang. She’ll probably steal Lan Zhan from under your nose.”
“I will not!” Nie Huaisang says, indignantly. Then, tapping a finger against her chin, she adds thoughtfully, “Unless Lan Zhan turns out to be super hot…”
Wei Ying leans all the way over Jiang Cheng to smack her.
“Ouch! I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”
“No, I don’t trust you either,” Wei Ying decides. “I don’t need help from either of you. I will get with Lan Zhan all by myself. A brave lesbian lone ranger.”
“Suit yourself,” Nie Huaisang says, laughing. “I can’t wait to see how this turns out.”
❖
The Jin mansion is exactly that: a fucking mansion. It’s gated, and they have to be buzzed in. While they wait, Wei Ying spots a familiar figure across the street. It’s Nie Mingjue, six-pack of beer under one arm, dressed in a Dickies boiler suit. She quickens her pace to get through the gate with them.
“Da-jie!” Nie Huaisang says, throwing her arms around her sister enthusiastically.
“Hey, kiddos,” says Nie Mingjue, draping an arm over Nie Huaisang’s shoulders as they climb the stone steps up to the front door. “How’s it going?”
The door is opened to them by a bored-looking Qin Su, who hardly looks up from her phone as she says, “Hey, come in. Upstairs is off-limits but go crazy everywhere else. Drinks in the kitchen.”
She is cute, Wei Ying thinks, watching Qin Su head down the giant entrance hall. Definitely a second option.
“Stop staring at Qin Su,” Nie Huaisang says as they divest themselves of their coats in the cloakroom. “What would Lan Zhan say!”
“Shut up,” Wei Ying hisses at her, but it’s too late.
“What’s this about Lan Zhan?” Nie Mingjue asks, leaning over Wei Ying to hang up her jacket.
“Nothing,” says Wei Ying, but Nie Huaisang, because she’s a snake and is not to be trusted, says, “Wei Ying’s trying to get with her!”
Wei Ying elbows her. “It was supposed to be a secret, you rat!”
Nie Mingjue laughs her deep, booming laugh and claps Wei Ying on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell. But good luck. I think you’ll need it.”
“Why does nobody have any faith in me,” Wei Ying grumbles, rubbing her shoulder. Sometimes Nie Mingjue isn’t always aware of her own strength.
“Should we go in?” Nie Huaisang says, gesturing down the hall, which is wallpapered in a horribly ostentatious gold pattern. The walls are decorated with large, highly staged photographs of the Jins, all in ostentatious gilt frames. Wei Ying grimaces at them.
“Ah, you go ahead,” Nie Mingjue says, looking at her phone. “I think the Lans are arriving now, actually.”
Nie Huaisang does a dramatic gasp. Nie Mingjue is definitely blushing, which is very cute. Wei Ying takes pity on her and says, “Come on, Sangsang, let’s go to the bathroom, I’m dying to pee.”
It takes both her and Jiang Cheng to drag Nie Huaisang away down the hallway and into one of the front rooms.
“At least let me see da-jie and Lan Huan say hi,” Nie Huaisang says, wresting her arm free and dashing back to the doorway of the room. Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng follow, so they get to watch as Nie Mingjue opens the front door for Lan Huan, who beams up at her, before leaning in to kiss her softly on each cheek.
Nie Huaisang squeals softly and elbows Wei Ying.
“Aww,” says Wei Ying. “I love love.”
“Wait, but nothing even happened,” Jiang Cheng says, clearly confused.
Nie Huaisang and Wei Ying exchange a look. It’s a look they exchange often, and it means: Jiang Cheng just doesn’t get lesbians.
“Just wait, they’ll be moving in together by next…” Wei Ying begins, but she trails off, distracted by the person who’s appeared behind Lan Huan, following her in through the front door.
“Oh my God,” she says, grabbing onto Nie Huaisang’s arm.
“What?” Nie Huaisang says, following Wei Ying’s gaze. Then, “Oh my God.”
“So that’s Lan Zhan,” Jiang Cheng says. “God help us all.”
Lan Zhan is, without exaggeration, the most beautiful person Wei Ying has ever seen in her life. She unclasps her pale grey cloak to reveal a floor-length dress of delicate ivory lace in a floral mesh pattern. Somehow it manages to be both chaste and extremely sexy: the lacy fabric clings to every curve of her body, hugging her hips, her long legs. When she turns around to hang up her cloak, she’s very obviously not wearing a bra.
“I’m going to pass out,” Wei Ying says, clinging desperately to Nie Huaisang for support. “Help. Help!”
“Oh, wow,” Nie Huaisang says, reverently. “She’s so hot.”
Lan Zhan, unaware of the frenzy of lust she’s currently provoking, is nodding seriously at something that Nie Mingjue is saying. She combs a hand through her long, smooth hair, tossing it over one shoulder.
“Look at her, paying attention while someone is speaking. That’s so sexy of her,” Wei Ying says to Nie Huaisang, who echoes softly, “So sexy.”
Then Nie Mingjue says loudly, “Come on, let’s head in. You should meet my sister and her friends! They’re around here somewhere…”
“Shit!” Wei Ying says, backpedalling from the door rapidly and dragging Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang back with her into the crowd of people in the room. From there, she sees Lan Zhan framed for a moment in the doorway, but thankfully she continues on past.
“What are you doing?” Jiang Cheng says. “Don’t you want to meet her?”
“Not yet,” Wei Ying says. “I need some time to collect myself so I don’t, like, straight-up jump her in the hallway.”
“I fully support this course of action,” Nie Huaisang says, because she’s the worst. “Did you notice that she’s not wearing a bra?”
“Oh, I noticed,” Wei Ying says, biting her lower lip hard. “Trust me, I noticed.”
“Good lord,” says Jiang Cheng. “This is my cue to leave—I’d quite like to talk to someone who’s not consumed by insane carnal passion for Lan Zhan. Have fun.”
“Okay, bye, love you, make good choices!” Wei Ying shouts after him as he heads off. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” To Nie Huaisang, she says, “Bathroom?”
While Nie Huaisang is peeing, Wei Ying inspects herself in the mirror. She kind of wishes she’d dressed up a bit more now, having seen Lan Zhan looking … like that, but it’ll have to do. At least her t-shirt makes her tits look great.
“Well, I’m going to go fulfil my party goal, which is to find the straightest girl at this party and win her over for the lesbians,” Nie Huaisang says when they emerge from the bathroom. “Ciao! Good luck with Lan Zhan!”
And with that, Wei Ying is left with the very welcome task of finding a beautiful girl at a party full of people she hates. She decides to go to the kitchen first, because she might as well take advantage of the Jin family’s disgusting wealth in order to get completely wasted.
She pokes her head into the kitchen and grins. Bingo. Lan Zhan is standing to one side of the fridge, posture ramrod straight. She really is astoundingly hot. Wei Ying only realises that she’s been staring for too long when someone shoves her in the back and says, “Hey, move it!”
“Alright, jeez,” Wei Ying says over her shoulder, and pushes her way across the room to the drinks table. There’s a big plastic bucket full of beer bottles floating in ice; a bunch of half-full bottles of various spirits and a shit ton of mixers. Wei Ying doesn’t feel like moving onto spirits yet, so she liberates two beers from the ice bucket and opens them with her back teeth.
Spitting out the caps, she glances back and sees Lan Zhan still in the same place as before. She’s watching Jin Zixun, Wen Chao and Wang Lingjiao set up a beer pong game on the kitchen table, and she looks expressionless, but her mouth has a definite disapproving tilt to it. It’s very attractive. Wei Ying wonders what it would be like to see Lan Zhan smile. Devastating, probably.
“Hey,” Wei Ying says, hoisting herself up on the marble countertop next to Lan Zhan and crossing her ankles. She offers a beer to Lan Zhan. “You look like you need this.”
Lan Zhan looks at the beer, then up to Wei Ying, then back to the beer. Her cheeks look very soft in the dim light of the kitchen. She blinks twice, slowly, like she’s surprised that someone is speaking to her. “No thank you,” she says.
“Oh, do you not like beer?” Wei Ying says, making to jump off the counter. “Sorry, do you want me to get you something else?”
“No, it’s not that. I don’t drink, in general,” Lan Zhan says. She’s still gazing at Wei Ying, but her look has shifted from surprise to … something else. It makes Wei Ying feel kind of hot and strange inside. She swallows and takes a long drink from her beer. Lan Zhan continues, “But thank you for offering.”
“Oh, hey, no worries, sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed! Anyway, now I have two beers so I’m winning,” Wei Ying says, clinking the bottles together. “Hey, I don’t think we’ve met. You’re Lan Zhan, right? Lan Huan’s sister? I’m Wei Ying!”
“Mm. I know,” says Lan Zhan, which, wait, what?
“Um,” says Wei Ying. “Uh, you do?”
“You don’t remember?” Lan Zhan says. She looks away, then sideways at Wei Ying.
Remember what!!!!! Wei Ying wants to scream. She has a terrible memory for faces, it’s true, but she doesn’t know how she could ever forget Lan Zhan’s. She runs through options in her head: had Lan Zhan been at Meng Yao’s birthday party? Or, God forbid, that New Year’s Eve party where Wei Ying had punched Wen Chao in the face and then passed out? If she’s somehow erased meeting Lan Zhan from her memory, she’s going to be so pissed at herself.
“Last year, in Criminal Law lectures,” says Lan Zhan and then Wei Ying remembers.
She remembers looking down the rows from her usual station at the back of the lecture hall, all the way to the student who always sat in the front row, immaculately dressed in neatly-tailored workwear. Wei Ying would watch her bending her head diligently over her notes and marvel at how she never seemed to get distracted. Until one day, a few weeks into that first term, she’d stopped coming to lectures at all, and then Wei Ying had forgotten about her. Still, she had never actually seen Lan Zhan from the front, so maybe she can forgive herself.
“Ohhh,” Wei Ying says. She puts a hand behind her on the counter and leans back on it. “Yeah, I remember you! Sorry, Lan Zhan, it’s been a minute since those lectures. And you’re not wearing a blazer, so it’s not really my fault I didn’t recognise you at first.”
Lan Zhan looks down at her dress, which Wei Ying has been trying not to think about, because her brain will short-circuit if she dwells for longer than a microsecond on how she can see Lan Zhan’s nipples through the lacy fabric.
Lan Zhan says drily, “I was informed that blazers aren’t appropriate party-wear.”
“Who told you that?” Wei Ying demands. “You could wear anything, anywhere and you’d look incredible.”
The tiny smile lifting one side of Lan Zhan’s mouth is devastating. Devastatingly sexy. Wei Ying wants to kiss it right off her. Instead, she takes a long drink from her beer because she doesn’t know what else to do with her hands or mouth that isn’t putting them all over Lan Zhan like some kind of horny freak.
Casting her mind around for something to say that’s not, your lips are the perfect shape, or something equally humiliating, she goes on, “So, why’d you stop coming to lectures? I thought you’d dropped out or something.”
“No,” says Lan Zhan. Is she blushing, or is she just wearing makeup? It’s hard to tell, with the lights so low. “I … changed my degree subject. After the day you and the lecturer had the debate about where the definitions of ‘crime’ and ‘criminal’ come from.”
Wei Ying stares. “You remember that?”
“’What we call crime is a social relation produced by the state and the police’,” Lan Zhan says, like she’s quoting something. “Yes. I remember.”
“Oh my God, did I say that? Wow. Gosh. I didn’t realise anyone was even listening to what I was saying,” Wei Ying says.
For her own part, she doesn’t remember much of the debate, other than how angry she’d been at the lecturer, who’d spent all term talking about the police’s role in keeping the peace and preventing crime and the inherent objectiveness of the criminal justice system. The fact that Lan Zhan had been paying attention, that she actually cared what Wei Ying had been saying, enough to quote it back to her at a party a year later, what the fuck, makes Wei Ying feel a bit faint. Or maybe it’s just the beer.
“It was very clarifying for me,” says Lan Zhan. “I realised that law was not the discipline I wanted to devote time to.”
“Yeah, I mean, the degree is the fucking worst,” says Wei Ying. “You’re lucky you escaped before we started Contract Law. I literally don’t wear a seatbelt driving to those lectures, because I hope that I’ll die before I make it there.”
“Why study law at all?” Lan Zhan says. “If you hate it so much.”
“Questions I ask myself daily!” Wei Ying says. She normally doesn’t offer a serious response to that, when people ask, but the way Lan Zhan is looking at her, giving Wei Ying her full attention, like what Wei Ying has to say matters for some reason—makes her want to try to answer properly.
She thinks about it, swinging her legs, and says, “I originally wanted to be a criminal defence lawyer, you know, to help people out, mitigate harm. But now, I dunno, it feels like it could be really soul-destroying trying to do any work within the criminal justice system, because it’s so, like, fundamentally racist and discriminatory. I mean, even studying the law makes me want to drink bleach! But I still want to get through it if I can, because even if I don’t end up qualifying, I guess the legal knowledge would still be useful, you know? Sorry, am I making any sense?”
“Mm. You’re making sense,” Lan Zhan says. She’s smiling again. Wei Ying has to look away, so she doesn’t launch herself at Lan Zhan from the counter.
“How about you? What did you switch to?” Wei Ying asks.
“History,” Lan Zhan says.
Wei Ying is about to ask why Lan Zhan chose history when something hits her in the head, hard.
She turns: it’s Jin Zixun, opening up one of the kitchen cabinets, swinging the door directly into Wei Ying’s head.
“Do you fucking mind?”
“Oops, sorry, Wei Ying,” says Jin Zixun, not sounding sorry in the slightest. She leans into the cupboard and pulls out a frosted glass bottle and a stack of shot glasses. Then she closes the door and says, “Got to keep this hidden away from all the freeloaders. It’s gold leaf infused.”
“Did I ask,” Wei Ying says, but Jin Zixun is looking past her to Lan Zhan.
“Oh, hi,” she says, and honest to God leers at Lan Zhan. “I’m Jin Zixun, and who might you be?”
Pathetic, thinks Wei Ying.
“Lan Zhan,” says Lan Zhan.
“Lan Zhan, it’s so lovely to meet you. Would you like to try some of this?”
Without waiting for an answer, Jin Zixun inserts herself between Wei Ying and Lan Zhan, setting out two shot glasses and pouring some of her precious gold leaf infused vodka into each one. She offers one to Lan Zhan, who says quietly, “I’m sorry, I have to drive my sister home.”
Jin Zixun rolls her eyes, knocks her own shot back and says, “Come on, one shot won’t make a difference! You have to try it, it’s so delicious. You’ll love it.”
“No, I’m sorry, I promised her,” says Lan Zhan.
“Oh, forget that! You can call her an Uber. I’ll call her an Uber for you.”
Wei Ying, who had been having a very nice time talking to Lan Zhan, was already annoyed with Jin Zixun for interrupting them, but listening to this conversation has made her seriously pissed off. She hops down off the counter and taps Jin Zixun on the shoulder repeatedly until she finally turns around, looking like she’s swallowed a lemon. Or maybe that’s just the way Jin Zixun’s face always looks.
“What, Wei Ying?”
Furious now, Wei Ying says, “She said she doesn’t want to drink, bitch.”
She leans forward and takes the shot glass right out of Jin Zixun’s hand. Then she downs it and upturns it to show that it’s empty.
“Where the fuck are your manners?” Jin Zixun says, looking disgusted.
“It’s fucking unbelievable that you have the audacity to call me badly mannered after you were just trying to peer pressure someone into drinking alcohol,” Wei Ying says. “What are you, fourteen years old?”
“I literally could not give less of a fuck about your opinion,” Jin Zixun says haughtily. She picks up her precious vodka and stalks off.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Wei Ying turns back to Lan Zhan—but Lan Zhan is gone.
❖
Wei Ying walks around the ground floor of the Jin mansion twice before admitting defeat—she can’t find Lan Zhan anywhere. Maybe she went home, Wei Ying thinks, and tries to ignore the sharp stab of disappointment she feels at that thought. Still, she can’t blame Lan Zhan for wanting to get out of here, after being harassed by Jin Zixun like that.
She goes outside into the garden, hoping for some fresh air, or better still, to bum a cigarette off someone.
Across the raised patio, she spots Mianmian in a peach corduroy jacket, smoking with a bunch of people Wei Ying doesn’t recognise.
“Hey,” she says to Mianmian, “feel like sharing?”
“Sure,” Mianmian says, offering her the cigarette. “How’re you?”
They lean on the parapet, smoking companionably, catching up. Wei Ying likes Mianmian; she’s got a legendary temper and is always posting left-wing political tirades on social media, but she’s also a great gossip and is always up for a laugh. Wei Ying has always thought that she’s the kind of person you could trust to cover your back, or stand up for you when nobody else is around.
Wei Ying is in the middle of taking a drag when she notices Jin Zixun on the edge of the pool, taking off her gold heels. The pool itself is empty, because it’s winter, but a couple of people have yanked off the tarpaulin and clambered down into it, for no reason other than that they’re drunk. Wei Ying watches Jin Zixun set down her precious gold vodka on the edge and climb down the ladder.
She passes the cigarette back to Mianmian and says, “Gotta go. If anyone asks, I wasn’t here.”
Mianmian laughs and salutes her with the cigarette. “See you, Wei Ying.”
Wei Ying walks casually down the stairs to the sunken lawn and crosses the grass. At the edge of the pool, she slowly bends over, picks up the vodka bottle and quickly stuffs it down her top. Then she runs, all the way back to the safety of the house. She doesn’t look back to see if Jin Zixun has noticed, but it’s surely only a matter of time.
Looking around desperately, she sees Jiang Cheng across the room, next to some random person Wei Ying’s never seen before. She pushes her way through, holding the bottle to her stomach with her arm so it doesn’t slip down her waistband. “You’re coming with me,” she tells him and drags him away by the shirt collar.
“Hey, I was talking to—” Jiang Cheng begins.
Wei Ying says, “Didn’t ask, don’t care. Where’s Sangsang?”
“Um, near the front door?”
Wei Ying tugs Jiang Cheng through the kitchen, then the living room, then another living room (this house has so many rooms, what the fuck), where she spots Nie Huaisang, deep in conversation with—
“Oh no,” Jiang Cheng says.
Nie Huaisang has apparently decided that the ‘straightest girl at the party’ is Jin Zixuan. She’s got a hand on Jin Zixuan’s arm, and their heads are very close together, which is a big old nope. Even if Wei Ying weren’t desperate to get to the bathroom, this would need to be broken up.
“Look, you’re already considering it, right?” Nie Huaisang is saying in her most persuasive voice. “All you’ve got to do is be confident and take the first step. You’ll never know if you don’t try.”
“Okay, that’s enough,” Wei Ying says, snapping her fingers at Nie Huaisang. “Bathroom time. Come on.”
Nie Huaisang protests, but Wei Ying’s already got her arm in a vice and is pulling her towards the downstairs bathroom, which is occupied.
“Ughhhhh,” Wei Ying says, and leans against the wall.
“What’s going on? Why did you have to interrupt me like that?” Nie Huaisang says. “I was really getting through to her!”
“You were ‘getting through’ to Jin Zixuan? On the topic of lesbianism? I don’t believe you,” says Wei Ying. “That is a straight woman.”
“That’s just what you think,” Nie Huaisang sniffs. “I mean, I actually wasn’t doing great at convincing her, but then I was like, ‘Isn’t there one woman you’ve thought about kissing? There must be one,’ and then her face went all soft and she was like, ‘Oh, maybe’, and I swear she blushed and I was in the middle of trying to help her make a move on her crush. Then you had to come along and ruin it!”
“Well, sorry to your lesbian crusade,” says Wei Ying, “but some things are more important.”
She hammers on the door. “Hello! Get out the bathroom, bitch!”
“Let’s go upstairs,” Nie Huaisang says. “They’re probably doing coke in there or something, we might be waiting for ages.”
“Oh, great idea,” Wei Ying says. “There must be a billion bathrooms up there.”
“Guys, upstairs is off-limits,” Jiang Cheng says uselessly, trailing after them as they rush towards the giant double staircase.
“Don’t be so boring,” says Wei Ying over her shoulder. “Where’s your sense of adventure!”
Upstairs are rooms and rooms and rooms. Why does anybody need so many rooms? Wei Ying has no idea.
“Fuck!” says Wei Ying, opening the first door she sees and immediately closing it again. “My eyes!”
“What?” Nie Huaisang says, bumping into her. “What is it?”
“We definitely don’t want to go in there,” Wei Ying says. She coughs. “Unless you want, uh, visual confirmation that da-jie is getting some.”
“Well,” Nie Huaisang says with immense satisfaction. “That’s that on that. My work here is done.”
“You literally didn’t do any work,” says Jiang Cheng.
Wei Ying ignores their bickering, and opens up the next door into the biggest bedroom she’s ever seen. Their whole shitty student house could fit inside there. The bed is probably the size of their kitchen, square foot for square foot. The whole thing is decorated horribly, the way that people who are too rich to have taste always decorate: too much gilt, horrifically ugly art on the walls, flashy statuettes in odd places, clashing patterns everywhere. A big bowl of gold baubles stands in one corner, for absolutely no reason.
In a hushed voice, Nie Huaisang says, “Do you think this is Daddy Jin’s room,” and Wei Ying dissolves into hysterical laughter. Ineffectually, Jiang Cheng tugs at the back of her shirt.
“Guys, we actually shouldn’t be in here,” he says in his whiniest voice.
“Is that bed where the magic happens,” Wei Ying whispers to Nie Huaisang and they both crack up again. “I want to bounce on it.”
“Oh my God,” Jiang Cheng says, clearly about to have some kind of a breakdown at all the rule breaking they’re doing. “Guys.”
“Okay, okay, let’s get to the ensuite,” Wei Ying says, hauling herself upright and over to the door leading to a ginormous bathroom. Everything in it is gold, from the tiles to the toilet to the bidet. There’s a huge freestanding bath right in the centre, on four golden clawed feet; Wei Ying knows without a doubt that they are all going to climb into it in approximately two minutes.
Once the door is locked, Wei Ying promptly slides the gold vodka out of her shirt, waving it above her head like it’s a trophy.
“Look what I stole from Jin Zixun!”
“Oh, Wei Ying, you didn’t,” Jiang Cheng groans.
Wei Ying takes a shot from the bottle. It burns in the good way, the this alcohol cost more than my weekly rent kind of way. To Jiang Cheng, she says, “Stop being such a baby, or I won’t let you have any of Jin Zixun’s precious,” she reads from the bottle, “Royal Dragon Imperial Gold Leaf Vodka. Bon appetit, ladies.”
“Give me some,” Nie Huaisang says. She’s currently arranging herself inside the bathtub, beckoning a hand to Wei Ying over the edge like a courtesan. “When you say you stole it…”
“It took great skill and incredible deviousness,” says Wei Ying, presenting the bottle to Nie Huaisang with a flourish. “And a dash of righteous fury—she was being such a fucking cow.”
She clambers over the edge of the bathtub, and they trade the bottle between them. It doesn’t take long for Jiang Cheng’s hatred of being left out to outweigh his hatred of breaking the rules, and he gets in the bath too, provoking shrieks from both Wei Ying and Nie Huaisang, although the bath is more than big enough for the three of them.
The sequence of events gets blurry after that. After an indeterminate amount of time in the bath, she and Nie Huaisang put on the silk bathrobes hanging on the back of the door and then Wei Ying makes Nie Huaisang do a ridiculous photoshoot with her and the vodka bottle: sitting on the edge of the sink with it in between her legs, slutdropping in front of the huge free-standing mirror, kissing it obscenely.
At some point, the vodka bottle is empty and she’s back in the bath again. That’s when Jiang Cheng says in a very serious voice, “Oh no. Wei Ying, get out your phone right now.”
“What?” Wei Ying says. She gropes in her pocket for her phone, drops it, has to chase it about the smooth porcelain of the bathtub, and finally manages to unlock it. There’s a text from Yanli, sent to the group chat of her, Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying. Wei Ying looks at it blankly. The letters are kind of swimming in front of her eyes.
“What’s it say?” she asks Jiang Cheng, who reads in an increasingly panicked voice, “Hey my favourite brother and sister, hope you’re having a great time at the party. Smiley face emoji. Just got this text from Jin Zixuan, ha ha ha, what do you think it means? Oh my God, do you think she’s asking me out? Eyes emoji, eyes emoji, eyes emoji.”
That gets Wei Ying’s attention. She feels suddenly, insanely sober. “No,” she says.
“Yes,” Jiang Cheng says grimly. “Three eyes emojis, Wei Ying. About Jin Zixuan.”
“Nie Huaisang, you absolute demon,” Wei Ying says. “You unleashed a monster!”
“Okay, so how is this my fault,” says Nie Huaisang. “I can’t help it that Jin Zixuan wants to have hot lesbian sex with your sister.”
“Shut up,” Wei Ying howls. “Nobody is having hot lesbian sex with our sister!”
“Seems unfair to Yanli,” Nie Huaisang remarks.
“Get me out of here,” Wei Ying says, thrusting a hand at Jiang Cheng. “We have to stop this right now! Get Jin Zixuan back in the closet!”
With Jiang Cheng’s help, Wei Ying struggles out of the bathtub. Before they leave, she places the empty vodka bottle on top of the gold toilet seat. Then she rushes after the others, out through the master bedroom and down the stairs.
❖
The front room has turned into a de facto dance floor; the lights are off and towers of speakers are blasting music through the room. There are disco lights set up, playing over the crowd of people dancing. Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng push their way through, and Wei Ying is about to follow, when she sees Lan Zhan, on the far side of the room.
Wei Ying tugs on Nie Huaisang’s hand and shouts, “You guys go on!”
“WHAT,” says Nie Huaisang, right into Wei Ying’s ear.
“You go on,” Wei Ying says, louder. “I’ve gotta—”
Nie Huaisang follows the line of her gaze and says, with emphasis, “Ohhhhh.”
Wei Ying grins at her and lets go of her hand. “Catch you later!”
Lan Zhan is easy to find in the crowd, because she’s so tall. She’s dancing slightly off to the side from a group, eyes closed. If Wei Ying had to make a guess about how Lan Zhan would dance, she would have assumed that Lan Zhan would be stiff, a little awkward, but she’s not. At all. Wei Ying watches her lift her arms over her head fluidly, moving her hips perfectly to the beat. It’s sort of mesmerising. Wei Ying almost feels bad for interrupting. Almost.
“Hey!” she says, putting a hand on Lan Zhan’s arm to get her attention. Lan Zhan opens her eyes. Her mouth parts in a slight oh. “I thought you went home!”
Lan Zhan says something that Wei Ying doesn’t hear over the music. She leans in, beckons Lan Zhan closer.
Into her ear, Lan Zhan says, “I have to wait for my sister. I’m driving her home.”
That’s what she’d said to Jin Zixun earlier—Wei Ying had assumed that Lan Zhan had just made it up to avoid having to explain to Jin Zixun that she doesn’t drink, because who has designated drivers in this day and age when Uber exists? Still, it’s cute that she cares about her sister so much, and Wei Ying certainly isn’t complaining if it means she gets to hang out with Lan Zhan more.
“Well, I’m glad. That you’re still here, I mean,” Wei Ying says loudly. She feels kind of shivery all over, having Lan Zhan so close. “Come on, let’s dance!”
She drags Lan Zhan a little further into the crowd, and they dance. Unlike Lan Zhan, Wei Ying is not a particularly elegant dancer; but what she lacks in finesse she makes up for in enthusiasm. She loves dancing, loves letting loose, lifting her arms above her head and feeling the music flow through her. She’s drunk enough to move closer to Lan Zhan, close enough that she could reach out and pull Lan Zhan against her and dance with her properly, bodies flush together. The thought makes her stomach flip over.
Suddenly the song changes to Katy Perry’s Swish Swish, and Wei Ying groans. “Not the floss song!”
At Lan Zhan’s confused look, Wei Ying demonstrates flossing. Lan Zhan watches her closely, then does it perfectly, first try. Laughing, Wei Ying does it again, twice as fast as the beat this time, and Lan Zhan does it even faster, her arms a blur. Wei Ying tries to copy her but it’s too fast and she fucks it up.
Then the song changes again, a slower one this time; MUNA’s cover of Motivation. Still laughing, Wei Ying flosses painfully slowly to the beat. Amused, Lan Zhan shakes her head and reaches out to stop the motion of her hips. At the contact, Wei Ying freezes fully, and lifts her head to meet Lan Zhan’s eyes. Slowly, tentatively, she puts her arms up and around Lan Zhan’s neck, and then they’re dancing up close like that, almost cheek-to-cheek, Wei Ying grinding closer, Lan Zhan’s hands guiding her hips.
The lights play over them and Wei Ying feels hot and dizzy. If she leans up—if Lan Zhan moves closer—
“Wei Ying,” shouts Jin Zixun, right in Wei Ying’s ear, and she and Lan Zhan spring apart. Wei Ying whirls around, and almost punches Jin Zixun right in her stupid face.
“Where is it?” says Jin Zixun, loudly.
“Where’s what?” Wei Ying says. She’s so disoriented from almost, almost kissing Lan Zhan that she can barely think, beyond: fuck! Around them, people have stopped dancing to stare at them.
“My vodka! I know you stole it, you’re the only bitch here trashy enough to pull something like that,” Jin Zixun says. Her mouth curls up in a sneer. “I guess the rumours about the Jiangs picking you off the street are true after all. You clearly haven’t learned how to behave since then. I bet they regret the day they chose to take a chance on you, you fucking mongrel.”
Wei Ying sees red. She’s about to launch herself at Jin Zixun for real, when there’s a steadying hand on her upper arm, and then Lan Zhan is stepping slightly in front of her, staring down Jin Zixun.
“Leave her alone,” says Lan Zhan sharply. She’s got a good two inches on Jin Zixun and a much better Fuck You stare. Jin Zixun blinks at her for a second and then abruptly decides that it’s not worth it. She turns on her heel and stalks out of the room.
Wei Ying is breathing hard. She doesn’t give a fuck about Jin Zixun or what Jin Zixun thinks of her, but to imply that she’s an embarrassment to the Jiang family … that makes her feel so angry that she could cry. Oh, and now she is crying, which is just so embarrassing, in front of Lan Zhan and all of these people.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says gently. She’s turned back to Wei Ying now, shielding her from the stares of the crowd. She puts both of her hands on Wei Ying’s biceps, holding her steady. “Breathe.”
Wei Ying takes a shaky breath, then another.
“Come on,” Lan Zhan says. “Let’s go outside.”
She takes Wei Ying’s hand and leads her through the ground floor to the garden. The cold air feels good on Wei Ying’s face, and it’s easier to breathe without the crowd of people clustered around them. Lan Zhan leads her over to the parapet and they stand there quietly for a few moments.
“God, sorry,” Wei Ying says. She’s still crying a little. She scrubs a hand over her eyes, probably smudging the mascara that Nie Huaisang had so diligently applied for her earlier.
“You don’t need to apologise,” Lan Zhan says. She’s still holding Wei Ying’s other hand. It’s nice. Lan Zhan is so nice.
“I did steal her stupid vodka,” Wei Ying confesses. She strokes her thumb over the back of Lan Zhan’s hand, absently. “Not one of my better ideas.”
“Mm,” says Lan Zhan, holding tighter to Wei Ying’s hand. “She deserved it.”
“She did,” Wei Ying agrees. “No regrets. I just got so pissed when she tried to peer pressure you into drinking—like, who does that? She’s such a piece of shit.”
Before Lan Zhan can reply, Wei Ying’s phone starts ringing. It’s Dr. Love, the ringtone that she had set for Wen Qing as a joke years ago and has never changed, mostly because she still finds it fucking hilarious.
“Oh, shit, let me get this,” she says to Lan Zhan, reluctantly dropping her hand so she can dig her phone out of her pocket.
“Hey,” Wen Qing says, when Wei Ying picks up. “How’s the terrible party?” Without waiting for an answer, she goes on, “I just finished up at the hospital. You still want a lift, right?”
“Oh,” Wei Ying says. She looks at Lan Zhan, standing there in the night air. Her head is turned slightly to give Wei Ying privacy, but she’s still close by. Close enough to touch. “Um.”
“What?” Wen Qing says. “You want to stay? You’re kidding, right? It’s past three in the morning, you seriously cannot be having that much fun.”
“Yes, yeah, we still want a lift,” Wei Ying says rapidly. “Sure. What time will you be here?”
“I’m literally right around the corner from the Jins’, I think,” says Wen Qing. “Probably like, five minutes tops.”
“Okay,” says Wei Ying. “I’ll go grab Sangsang and A-Cheng and we’ll be outside in five.”
“Thank you, Wen Qing, light of my life,” says Wen Qing.
“Thank you, Wen Qing, light of my life,” Wei Ying dutifully recites. “Love you.”
After she hangs up, Lan Zhan gives her a slightly quizzical look. Wei Ying crosses her arms over her chest and says, “Ah, that was my friend, Wen Qing. She’s in the area so she’s gonna drive us home.”
“Oh,” says Lan Zhan.
“Yeah,” Wei Ying says.
They look at each other for a long, long moment. Lan Zhan blinks, slow and steady, like a cat.
“Well,” Wei Ying says, because she doesn’t know what else to say. “Uh. I’ve got to go find my brother and Nie Huaisang, I guess.”
Lan Zhan points down onto the lawn. “They are over there.”
“Oh, thanks,” Wei Ying says, leaning over the parapet and spotting them immediately. Jiang Cheng really does stand out as one of the, like, three men at this party. She waves and shouts, “A-Cheng! Sangsang!”
When Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng join them, Wei Ying says, “Wen Qing rang me, she’s finished her shift and offered to drive us home, do you guys want to leave?”
“Definitely,” says Jiang Cheng with feeling.
Nie Huaisang is gazing between Lan Zhan and Wei Ying with her mouth slightly open. Wei Ying gives her a Look and she shakes herself. “Uh, yeah, yeah, sounds good.”
“Cool,” Wei Ying says. “I’m gonna say bye to Lan Zhan.”
When neither Jiang Cheng nor Nie Huaisang move, she says with emphasis, “I’ll see you guys by the front door in a minute.”
Jiang Cheng’s single brain cell kicks into action at that, and he drags Nie Huaisang inside. Sighing, Wei Ying turns back to Lan Zhan, unsure of what to do. What she wants to do is climb Lan Zhan like a tree and kiss her breathless, but Wei Ying’s never been great at making the first move. Also, she’s drunk right now and what if she’s misread the situation, misinterpreted the signals Lan Zhan has been sending? Wei Ying’s had quite enough humiliation for one night, thank you very much.
So instead, she throws her arms around Lan Zhan in a hug, saying, “Bye, Lan Zhan!”
For a heart-stopping moment, she thinks that Lan Zhan isn’t going to hug back, but then her arms come up around Wei Ying’s waist. Wei Ying holds on, hand moving across Lan Zhan’s back. As she pulls back, she brushes her lips gently over Lan Zhan’s cheekbone. The perfect opening for Lan Zhan to kiss her, if she wanted to.
Lan Zhan blinks at her slowly, but doesn’t move. “Goodnight,” she says.
“Aren’t you going to—” Wei Ying says, then cuts herself off. What is she doing. Asking Lan Zhan to kiss her is not only embarrassing, it’s pathetic.
“Going to what?” Lan Zhan says. She looks confused.
“Never mind,” says Wei Ying. “Night, Lan Zhan. See you around, I guess!”
In a terrible mood now, she goes back inside, heading for the cloakroom, where she extricates her coat and rucksack from the huge pyramid of outerwear and bags. Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng are waiting by the door.
“Let’s get out of here,” Wei Ying says to them.
“What’s up with you? What happened with Lan Zhan?” Nie Huaisang asks, yawning. She’s got Jiang Cheng’s snood wound around her neck.
“Nothing,” Wei Ying says, shrugging on her jacket and slamming the front door after them. They go down the huge staircase and press the button to open the giant automated gate.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Nie Huaisang says, as they wait for it to swing open.
“I’m fine,” Wei Ying says, irritated at being questioned. Nie Huaisang shrugs and turns to follow Jiang Cheng out of the gate. Wei Ying is about to go after her when—
“Wei Ying.”
Wei Ying turns, heart in her mouth. Lan Zhan is running down the stairs, taking them two at a time. She crosses the driveway in a few long strides. From behind Wei Ying, she can hear Jiang Cheng saying something and Nie Huaisang replying, but they could be speaking Dutch for all the attention Wei Ying pays to them.
“Lan Zhan?” she says. “Are you okay?”
“I—I forgot,” Lan Zhan says.
“Wh—“ Wei Ying starts to say, but she’s cut off, because Lan Zhan is—holy shit!—cupping Wei Ying’s face between her hands and kissing her.
Softly at first, and then Wei Ying opens her mouth and Lan Zhan tilts her head back and deepens the kiss. She puts an arm around Wei Ying’s waist, and Wei Ying winds her arms around Lan Zhan’s neck, leaning back, letting Lan Zhan kiss her and kiss her and kiss her.
Eventually, they pull back and look at each other, noses nearly touching. Lan Zhan’s hand is on Wei Ying’s hip. She strokes her fingertips gently up Wei Ying’s side, along the line of skin above her waistband.
“Oh my God, you’re perfect,” Wei Ying says breathlessly. “You’re so hot. Fuck. Let’s get married.”
One corner of Lan Zhan’s mouth ticks up in a slight smile. It’s so unbelievably sexy. Wei Ying wants to claw her own eyes out. Lan Zhan says, amused, “Should we at least exchange phone numbers first?”
“Uh, yes, yeah, for sure,” Wei Ying says. Her hands are sweating a little but she manages to fumble her phone out of her pocket and thrusts it at Lan Zhan, who gives Wei Ying her own phone in return. Her background is a picture of herself and Lan Huan, each of them holding the front and back legs of one of those freakishly large giant rabbits. Wei Ying smiles at it stupidly for about ten seconds before she remembers why she’s holding Lan Zhan’s phone and quickly keys in her number.
“Here,” she says, passing the phone back to Lan Zhan. Their fingers brush. They’re still standing so close together. Through the gate, light shines on them; a car turning into the street. Lan Zhan’s mouth is red and kiss-bitten. It makes Wei Ying feel crazy.
Wei Ying opens her mouth, but before she can do anything horribly embarrassing like beg Lan Zhan to kiss her again, Lan Zhan makes an inarticulate noise and pushes Wei Ying back against the wall beside the gate, kissing her hard. It’s probably the hottest thing that’s ever happened to Wei Ying in her entire life.
She crowds up to Lan Zhan, trying to get closer, hoping for more. She wants every part of her body to be touching Lan Zhan. One of Lan Zhan’s legs slides between hers and Wei Ying grinds against it desperately, feeling the lace of that fucking dress against her bare thighs.
Suddenly, there’s the noise of someone honking their horn.
“Wei Ying,” Jiang Cheng shouts. “Get over here now!”
Wei Ying ignores him and wraps one of her legs around the back of Lan Zhan’s calf. Lan Zhan is kissing the corner of her jaw, the side of her neck. One of her hands is under Wei Ying’s jacket, up the back of her shirt. The car horn sounds again.
“Oh God, oh my fucking God,” Wei Ying gasps, hand tangled in Lan Zhan’s hair, “come home with me, please.”
Lan Zhan raises her head. Her eyes are liquid and dark. She says softly, apologetically, “I promised I would drive my sister home.”
“Nooooo,” Wei Ying says, and leans up to kiss Lan Zhan again, a little messy and a lot desperate.
“Wei Ying, we are literally leaving without you!” Jiang Cheng is seriously going to lose his voice if he keeps that level of volume up.
Lan Zhan gentles the kiss and pulls back, but she keeps her arms around Wei Ying’s waist.
“I should go,” Wei Ying says, but makes no attempt to extricate herself. It’s so hard. Lan Zhan’s so soft and so warm. She gazes up at Lan Zhan through her eyelashes and says, “Are you sure I can’t convince you to come back with me?”
“Next time,” Lan Zhan says. The look in her eyes, the sheer intensity of desire in her expression, makes Wei Ying shiver. She pauses and adds, voice low and urgent, like it’s important that Wei Ying understands, “It’s not that I don’t want to, Wei Ying. I really do.”
“Yeah, I know,” Wei Ying manages to say, “you’re just actually, like, a good person who keeps their promises to their siblings and shit. Wow. Okay. Next time, huh?” She taps a finger against Lan Zhan’s chest, right above her heart. “I’m holding you to that.”
Lan Zhan picks up Wei Ying’s hand and, honest to God, kisses it. Wei Ying can’t believe it. Lan Zhan cannot be real. The car horn honks for the third time.
“Oh my God, okay, I seriously have to go,” Wei Ying says. “Text me, okay? Promise you’ll text.”
She stands on tip-toes and presses one last kiss to the corner of Lan Zhan’s mouth. Lan Zhan says, “I promise.”
“Yeah,” Wei Ying says, “okay. God. Holy shit. You’re amazing.”
Lan Zhan smiles. She says, “Get home safely, Wei Ying.”
❖
Wei Ying sprints to the car and slides into the back. At Nie Huaisang’s questioning look, she winks and Nie Huaisang squeals and hits her. Jiang Cheng, on Nie Huaisang’s other side, has his arm over his eyes.
“Hello, Cinderella,” says Wen Qing drily from the driver’s seat. “I hope you left your shoe behind so Princess Charming can find you again.”
“I’m getting married,” Wei Ying announces, buckling her seatbelt and kicking her legs up into Nie Huaisang’s lap. “Lan Zhan and I will have a spring wedding. A-jie will be maid of honour, Sangsang and Wen Qing, you’re going to be bridesmaids, and Wen Ning will be the ring bearer.”
“What about me,” Jiang Cheng grumbles.
“No men in the bridal party, sorry,” Wei Ying says. “Maybe you can attend as a guest if you’re really nice to me.”
“I am literally your brother—”
Wen Qing turns on the engine and interrupts Jiang Cheng’s tirade with a brusque, “Wei Ying, I’m very happy for you and your new wife-to-be, but if you ever make me pick you up from a party and then leave me idling on the kerb for ten minutes like a dickhead at three in the fucking morning again, I will stab you. Got it?”
“Sorry, Wen Qing,” says Wei Ying, as the car pulls away. She feels bad for all of ten seconds until she remembers how good Lan Zhan was at kissing, and then she feels great. “I had to say goodbye to Lan Zhan and then she—”
“No details! Please, for the love of God, no details!” Jiang Cheng shouts.
Nie Huaisang elbows him and says, “Speak for yourself, prude. I want to know everything, Wei Ying! What happened? Who kissed who? Was it good?”
“Let’s just say that Lan Zhan isn’t ‘frosty’ in the slightest,” Wei Ying says dreamily. She leans her head against the window, thinking about the heated way Lan Zhan had pushed her against the wall and kissed the breath out of her. “Literally the opposite.”
“Oh my God! I’m taking full credit for this,” Nie Huaisang says. “Never tell me parties are bad ever again. I can’t believe this!”
“I can,” Jiang Cheng says. “Only Wei Ying would pick a girl to get with at random from a party guest list and then decide that they’re getting married after literally kissing them once, on the same night they met.”
“Hey, what can I say? Some of us are born lucky.”
Wei Ying leans her head back against the window and closes her eyes. She feels dizzy and drunk and happy. The light from the street-lamps plays over her closed eyelids as the car speeds home; the world is spinning around her, but it doesn’t feel disorienting. Next time, Lan Zhan had promised. Next time, next time, next time.
As Wen Qing pulls up outside their house, Wei Ying feels her phone vibrate with a new message. She puts her hand in her pocket and smiles.