Chapter Text
Lan Zhan has been working at the public library for three years the first time he meets the most beautiful man he has ever seen.
The man in question is wandering down the stacks in the 900s with a dreamy expression on his face. He has a finger running absently over the spines but he does not seem to be actually looking at any of the books. His long, dark hair is pulled up into a high ponytail with wispy strands creeping out around his face and neck, giving Lan Zhan the inappropriate urge to tuck them back into place. He is dressed all in black, except for an oversized red ombre sweater that is slipping off one shoulder. The sleeves are so long they come almost to his knuckles, so that only the tip of his finger is visible as it traces over the spines.
Lan Zhan, who is on his way back to the reference desk after helping his fifth patron of the day navigate the library’s ornery new printing system, hesitates, then turns down the aisle. Roving reference is part of his job description, after all.
“May I help you find something?” he asks when he is close enough to inquire without having to raise his voice.
“What?” the man says, looking up startled. “Oh, no, no thank you. I’m fine.”
He does not look fine. He looks confused, and like Lan Zhan has interrupted whatever line of thought was creating the dreamlike expression on his face. He feels a bit guilty about that.
“Is that your laptop?” Lan Zhan asks, gesturing to an empty seat at a table on the other side of the stacks. Every inch of the top of the computer is covered in stickers.
“Yeah, that’s mine,” the man says.
“Mn. You should not leave your belongings unattended,” Lan Zhan admonishes. Not only is it clearly stated in the library’s code of conduct, it is simply a profoundly bad idea.
“I’m right here,” the man says dubiously. “Besides, since when do people steal from the library?”
Lan Zhan raises an eyebrow. The building is literally full of the general public.
“No!” the man says. “Really?”
“Frequently,” Lan Zhan assures him, marveling at his faith in humanity. “And electronics are particularly popular,” he adds by way of warning.
“What else?” the man asks, clearly curious.
Years of incident reports flash before Lan Zhan’s eyes. “Someone once tried to carry out an entire desktop computer piece by piece,” he says. “And we have to keep the DVDs in the back room because the cases kept turning up empty.” This makes for a lot of work, because every time someone wants to borrow a movie they have to bring the empty case to the desk and have a staff member retrieve the corresponding disc from the work room.
“What’s the worst thing someone ever stole?”
Lan Zhan winces. “A woman had her passport and all her identification taken.” He does not add the rest, which is that the woman had been too afraid to report the theft to the police because without her documents she would not be able to prove her legal immigration status. Lan Zhan had found her the contact information for her local consulate, but there was not anything else he had been able to do to help, and the incident still haunts him. He never saw the woman again.
“Shit!” the man says expressively, then claps a hand over his mouth. “Is swearing forbidden in the library?” he mumbles around his fingers, eyes comically wide.
“Not explicitly. Although directing abusive language at others is,” Lan Zhan says.
“Do you feel abused?” the man asks. His eyes twinkle in a way that makes him somehow even more beautiful than he already is.
“I do not,” Lan Zhan assures him. Clearly this man has never worked the reference desk of a public library, or he would not even have to ask. Being cursed out is simply a part of the regular emotional labour of being a librarian. A curse word not aimed at him is almost charming, really. His uncle would not approve.
“One more question, then. What’s the weirdest thing someone ever stole?”
Lan Zhan considers this question carefully. All of their Harry Potter books were stolen once, but he suspects this was some sort of censorship attempt by a patron who challenged the titles over concerns of Satanism but failed to get them removed from the collection. Having been thwarted by the library’s intellectual freedom policy, they likely resorted to petty theft. The library had never been able to prove it, of course.
“A table leg,” he says finally.
“A table leg?” the man repeats incredulously.
“Mn. A leg was removed from one of our tables and never found. I have trouble fathoming what you would want a table leg for without the rest of the table, so I would classify it as our weirdest theft, to date.”
“I love how you say ‘to date,’ like you know something weirder is going to happen,” he muses.
“If I remain employed here, it is highly probable I will witness something weirder,” Lan Zhan agrees. At the public library, weirdness is only a matter of time.
“Strange question, but can I borrow that?” the man asks, cocking his head and twirling a finger in his ponytail.
“Borrow what?” Lan Zhan asks, confused, and maybe slightly distracted by the hair twirling.
“The story about the table leg. I’m a writer,” he explains cheerily.
“By all means, if you have some use for it,” Lan Zhan says.
“Okay, I gotta get back to work now! Nice talking to you…Lan Zhan!” the man says, glancing down at his name tag, which reads both Zhan Lan and 蓝湛. “I’m Wei Ying, by the way,” he says with a wave over his shoulder.
Lan Zhan stands, flummoxed, as the man—Wei Ying—bounces back to his table, sits down at his computer, pulls on his giant red headphones, and begins typing away furiously. Lan Zhan watches him for a moment before shaking himself out of it and returning to the reference desk.
*
The next time Lan Zhan finds Wei Ying wandering the stacks a few days later, he puts his library school training to better use and tries asking an open-ended question.
“What can I help you find today?” he inquires. He is pleased to note that Wei Ying has his laptop tucked under his arm. From here, Lan Zhan can see some of the panoply of stickers stuck on the top, including a large bisexual pride flag, and another featuring an angry goose that reads “Be Gay, Do Crime,” incongruously positioned next to an adorable rabbit with a blep. Wei Ying has still left his jacket and backpack unattended at the nearby table but presumably if these are stolen there will be less serious consequences than the loss of his laptop might entail. His bag is not blocking the aisle, so Lan Zhan chooses to ignore this technical infraction for the time being.
“Nothing!” Wei Ying says, blowing out a sigh that ruffles his bangs. “You haven’t seen my inspiration running around here anywhere have you?”
“I have not,” Lan Zhan affirms. He is not sure what possesses him when he adds, “But I shall tell it to get back to work if I should happen to encounter it on my rounds.”
Wei Ying laughs, high and bright, and it is a sound so delightful that Lan Zhan does not wish to consider what he would do to hear it again. He is not generally considered funny, but with the way Wei Ying throws his head back, eyes crinkling with genuine mirth, there can be no doubt of his sincerity.
“You know, I was told to watch out for you. That you’re super strict, and have no sense of humour. But I’m onto you now, Lan Zhan,” he says, shaking his finger.
“Mn,” Lan Zhan says, for lack of any better idea of how to respond to that. He does not ask who warned Wei Ying, since this is his general reputation among patrons and staff alike. “Let me know if I can help you find anything,” he says as he heads back towards the desk.
“I know where to find you if I need you,” Wei Ying agrees amiably. “Be sure to send my inspiration home if you see it!”
*
Towards the end of his desk shift, Lan Zhan is just straightening a shelf in the history section, after helping a patron select some books about espionage during World War II. He is definitely not looking at Wei Ying, who is working at his usual table just behind him.
“That’s enough of that!” Wei Ying says suddenly, standing up and stretching. Lan Zhan is now definitely not looking at the strip of bare skin between his sweater and the waistband of his jeans.
“I need to go purge with some lunchtime reading,” Wei Ying continues, talking to Lan Zhan as if they have been carrying on a conversation the entire time he has been standing there, rather than politely ignoring one another while they go about their work.
“Do you need help finding a novel?” Lan Zhan ventures. He would very much like a chance to do reader’s advisory for Wei Ying, if only to find out what sort of things he reads. He has also been desperately curious about what he writes, ever since the first day they spoke, but he worries that it is inappropriate to ask if Wei Ying does not wish to volunteer that information. He has met a few local authors and usually they are quite forthcoming about their work, often without any prompting, so that the fact that Wei Ying has not spoken about it is telling.
“Nah, but thanks! This is my lunch break! I’m gonna hit up the fan fiction archives and read the weirdest crossover or the nuttiest AU I can find. Just something fun before I try to go another round after lunch, you know.”
Lan Zhan is tickled by Wei Ying’s casual mention of fan fiction, as though it is a totally normal, everyday thing to talk about. Lan Zhan has never really discussed it with anyone he knows in real life, even though he has been reading it—and sometimes writing it—since he was a teenager. He would certainly never have considered bringing it up to a near stranger. Wei Ying clearly has no such compunctions.
“You said you were an author. You approve of fan fiction?” he asks, unable to bring himself to voice a more revealing question that might indicate personal familiarity.
“Oh yeah, transformative works are great! Obviously I can’t like, look at anything relating to my own stuff, because legal reasons,” Wei Ying makes a face and waves his hand in the air vaguely. “But everything else is fair game.”
Lan Zhan has a thousand questions, like what fandoms Wei Ying is in, or what his favourite ships are, what tropes he likes and dislikes. But these are the sorts of questions that imply familiarity. Public enthusiasm is a form of courage that Lan Zhan does not possess.
“What is your favourite AU?” he asks instead, because this seems like a safer question, since Wei Ying already volunteered the information that he likes to read crossovers and AUs.
“I’m trash for a fairy tale retelling,” Wei Ying says promptly. “Give me like, a Cinderella retelling or a Dragon Princess AU and I’m yours.”
Lan Zhan’s stomach does a little flip, and his mouth goes quite dry. “I hope you find something good to read,” he manages, fully aware that the response is extremely bland, but unable to wrangle his brain into producing anything more engaging. “Enjoy your lunch,” he adds lamely.
“Thanks, Lan Zhan! I will. The Mexican place down the street looks like a hole in the wall, but it has the biggest, cheapest burritos I’ve ever seen!” Wei Ying says cheerfully, apparently unconcerned by the lacklustre response. “See you later, yeah?” He waves as he shoulders his bag, and heads for the door.
Lan Zhan takes a couple more unnecessary minutes straightening the history section, when what he is really composing is himself, and then goes back to the reference desk. He spends the rest of his desk shift wondering if he should have been more forthcoming with Wei Ying about his interests, and thinking about what it would be like to make a real life friend who knew about his writing, and shared his enthusiasm.
Lan Huan knows, in a vague way, given that he does not exactly understand what fan fiction is or why someone would want to write it. But they had been living together during the deepest phase of Lan Zhan’s obsession with his current fandom, Bandits of the Northern Reach , making it basically impossible to hide the fact that it was absorbing every waking moment of his non-working hours. So Lan Huan knows, but he does not understand . In some ways that is harder than him not knowing at all, which is the case for everyone else in his life.
Lan Zhan and Jin Zixuan have overlapping tastes, and often swap book and movie recommendations, but Lan Zhan has never mentioned his interest in fan fiction to him in the two years they have been working together. He does consider Zixuan a friend, in that they see each other outside of work sometimes, but when he tries to imagine discussing his favourite ship with the man sitting next to him at the reference desk it is simply inconceivable. It probably has something to do with the fact that Zixuan is straight, and for Lan Zhan his love of fandom will always be tied up with the way it helped him figure out his queer identity, to put words to the things that no one ever talked about.
He has also, surprisingly, become quite good friends with the younger brother of Lan Huan’s boyfriend. His brother had pushed the idea hard until Lan Zhan eventually gave in and agreed to be introduced to Nie Huaisang, even though he had been sure they would have nothing in common other than the fact that their brothers were dating. Actually getting along had been a pleasant surprise to them both, and now Nie Huaisang is his movie buddy, who always picks arty films and international titles that Lan Zhan would never have found by himself. But although they have now known one another for several years, Lan Zhan cannot fathom trying to explain to Huaisang that he writes fan fiction. Often rather smutty fan fiction, though he prefers a good backbone of plot to go along with his smut. Huaisang is definitely queer, more openly so than Lan Zhan, in fact, so it is not that holding him back.
He has a few online fandom friends that he has followed for years and exchanges comments with when they publish new work, but they do not talk otherwise. They are friends only in the bastardized sense of the word that the internet has brought about, though he knows that theoretically it is not impossible to make real friends online. But if making friends in real life is hard, the internet feels even more divorced from reality, every connection nebulous and transient.
All of this is to say that when Wei Ying passes the reference desk on his way back from lunch, just as Lan Zhan is relinquishing his spot to Qin Su, the children’s librarian, he has been stewing in these thoughts for at least half an hour, and has just about resolved to say something to Wei Ying that will reveal more than a polite interest in fandom.
“Hey, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying says cheerfully on his way past the reference desk. There is a fresh bounce in his step, as if he has been thoroughly refreshed by his brief break.
“Hello, Wei Ying. Did you find any interesting AUs?”
“Oh my god, yes!” Wei Ying enthuses. “Someone wrote a Saturday Night Live AU* for my favourite drama. I’d never have thought of it, and it shouldn’t work at all but it somehow does, and it’s hilarious?! And it’s like, eighty thousand words long, so that ought to keep me going for a few days.”
“People are very creative,” Lan Zhan says, which is such an inane way of putting it, but also profoundly true. It is one of his favourite things about fandom.
“Time to go do some creativity of my own,” Wei Ying says brightly. “Have a good afternoon!”
“Do you know him?” Qin Su asks, looking a bit stunned. Lan Zhan is not known for being on friendly terms with the patrons. Many of the other staff members have one or two problematic regulars who will hang around the desk and dominate their time if given half a chance. But Lan Zhan’s face does not invite confidantes, and as a man he does not receive any of the unwelcome attention that the women on staff sometimes suffer. In fact, it is often his job to intervene in such situations.
“His name is Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, which of course is no answer at all.
*
His apartment is quiet and dark when he gets home after work, which is in its way a blessing after a long day of non-stop people and the incessant buzz of institutional fluorescent lighting. Until about six months ago Lan Zhan shared the apartment with his brother, and they had eaten together several nights per week. Lan Huan often went out with his boyfriend after dinner, at which point Lan Zhan would generally watch some television or read a book before retiring. Now he has an empty second bedroom, and no particular idea what to do with it. He does not need a roommate, financially speaking, and is not sure he wants one, though his brother had strongly hinted that he thought it would be a good social opportunity for him. But no one Lan Zhan knows needs a roommate, and he cannot imagine living with a total stranger.
He turns on the television and queues up an episode of his favourite drama, Bandits of the Northern Reach. It is a few years old now, and he has seen it enough times that he does not really need to watch with his full attention while he prepares dinner. At this point he knows the plot inside and out, and can pick up and leave off at will. He is currently rewatching the entire series, but sometimes he just rewatches a favourite scene or episode. There are also certain sections he almost never rewatches, because they just hit home too hard.
He is not really sure why this particular show, and the novel it was based on, have continued to preoccupy him. He thinks it might have something to do with the open-ended nature of the conclusion. By not tying everything up as neatly as expected, it leaves a lot of scope for the imagination as far as what comes next for the characters and their world. When he’d finished watching it the first time, he’d spent a solid month afterward reading nothing but fan fiction sequels that disambiguated the ending, and writing a couple of his own as well. It had probably been another three months after that before he picked up a new book, or started a new television show, so thoroughly had he been subsumed. Unfortunately, the author of the novel never published another book.
Lan Zhan is still early into his rewatch, and has just reached the part where the two protagonists are rejected from the local cultivation sect for failing to pass their admittance test. But despite being too weak to pass the challenge alone, they are about to discover that they can combine their powers in unique ways that make them in many ways superior to a typical sect cultivator. Of course, the two boys have opposing personalities and their partnership is fraught with challenges brought on by those differences.
Lan Zhan chops vegetables with one eye on the television as the two young men squabble about the best way to extract themselves from a highway robbery on the way back to their village after being rejected from the cultivation school. They are currently tied up back-to-back, while the highwaymen riffle through their packs, stealing their meager supply of food for the journey home.
One of the boys is attempting to use his nascent spiritual power to summon a sharp rock that they can use to try to cut the ropes binding them. He is not strong enough alone, but tied back-to-back, his companion is able to grab his bare wrist. Suddenly the rock flies at them, cutting them both, as well as the ropes. They have now also—inadvertently—formed a blood bond, though they will not realize that for some episodes yet.
While he is eating, he signs into his fandom email for the first time in a while. “You’ve got kudos!” proclaim a series of emails in that inbox. The popularity of Bandits of the Northern Reach has waned from its heyday, but there is still a solid group of hardcore fans who—like him—cannot seem to let it go. Lan Zhan reads a lot of books and watches a lot of dramas, since stories are his main hobby, but he is not in very many fandoms, as such. He has not posted anything new in months, but he still gets a steady trickle of engagement with his older content, including a vampire AU that is particularly popular. There are also quite a number older fics from his previous fandoms in his back catalogue, some old enough that he is sure he would be embarrassed by the contents now if he were to look back. He does not look, because the librarian in him refuses to delete them but he knows the temptation would be strong if were to reread what they contain. Whenever he is tempted to remove them, he looks at the number of bookmarks, and knows that there are people out there who would be disappointed if they disappeared. Unlike in the physical library, the archive does not have finite space.
When he first started writing for Bandits of the Northern Reach he had mostly read and written canon continuations, inserts, and fix-its, but these days he finds himself more drawn to modern AUs, particularly if they are modern with magic. However, his conversation with Wei Ying had reminded him of a file tentatively titled Barely Even Friends that has been sitting untouched on his computer for weeks.
One night a couple months after his brother had moved out he had rewatched Beauty and the Beast, then followed it up with Jean Cocteau’s 1946 La Belle et la Bête, which had been Nie Huaisang’s suggestion. The next morning he had woken up and pounded out three thousand words of a Beauty and the Beast AU for Bandits of the Northern Reach over breakfast before heading to work. He has been puttering away at it on and off since then, and it is headed well towards being measured in the tens of thousands of words. His rewatch of the series had actually been inspired by trying to figure out a couple of knotty plot blending issues that had stumped him and stalled out the writing.
Lan Zhan opens up the file, and reads over the last few pages from where he left off. It is always pleasant to return to a work in progress and find that the draft is not as terrible as he had feared. He has a few truly good scenes here, blending in elements of The Fairy Serpent as well as Eros and Psyche with the two main texts. By making the castle cursed to prevent the inhabitants from leaving, he has also circumvented some of the creepier, Stockholm-syndrome vibes of the original, wherein the beast is holding his love interest prisoner. It does not hurt that the protagonists are two men, either. With the television still playing in the background, he starts making some notes in his outline about how to finish the fic.
*
It has been some weeks, and usually when Lan Zhan finds Wei Ying wandering around the stacks now he leaves him be, recognizing that dreaming, thinking expression that he gets when he is trying to work through a writing problem before returning to his table. He will not let his desire to talk to Wei Ying interrupt his creative process, and frankly he has more than enough work of his own to be attending to given that he works at one of the busiest branches in the system. But today when Lan Zhan passes Wei Ying on his way back from refilling the printer paper for no less than the third time, Wei Ying is rifling around in the 590s as if he is actually looking for something.
“Wei Ying. What can I help you find?” he asks, coming up alongside him. Looking down, his polished navy wingtips contrast comically with Wei Ying’s scuffed Doc Martens.
Wei Ying looks up at him from where he is crouched down on his heels, examining the contents of the lowest shelf. “Lan Zhan! Are there any books on cryptids? Like the Loch Ness Monster, BigFoot, Yiren, Guai Wu, that kind of thing? I thought maybe they’d be with the animal books.”
“Mn. Not here; this way,” Lan Zhan says, motioning, and Wei Ying clambers to his feet to follow. His bright red headphones are hanging around his neck, laptop securely tucked under one arm. He still leaves his coat and bag at his table, but Lan Zhan has decided to overlook this as long as he does not disappear for long periods of time the way some patrons do.
Lan Zhan leads Wei Ying to the beginning of the run of the non-fiction collection, past a large collection of computer books that dominate most of the first row.
“This should be what you are looking for. If there is something specific, I can go look it up to see what we have,” Lan Zhan offers. “We can request volumes from other branches as well.”
Wei Ying stands on his toes to examine the books on the top shelf, black sweater slipping off his shoulder to reveal the strap of a red tank top as he adjusts the laptop under his arm. Lan Zhan averts his eyes, studying the stickers on Wei Ying’s laptop instead.
“This looks promising!” Wei Ying enthuses, earning him a glare from an older man sitting nearby reading the newspaper. He lowers his voice before he continues. “I have to admit I find this organization scheme somewhat baffling, Lan Zhan. I didn’t even think to look over here because it’s all just tech books.”
“The organization system has…a number of interesting quirks,” Lan Zhan says charitably. “Bearing in mind that when it was designed, the closest thing to a computer that existed was the Hollerith machine. Cryptids and conspiracy theories also ended up in this section.” There is a method, which is not to say that the method entirely makes sense.
“You’re full of fun facts, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says with a wink, pulling a couple books down to examine more closely. “Oooh, Chupacabra!” he enthuses, distracted by the volumes. Which is for the best, as it allows Lan Zhan a moment to recover from being winked at by the most beautiful man he has ever seen.
“Will this meet your needs? If you would like to tell me a little more about what you are working on, I can see if we have anything else that might be useful,” Lan Zhan offers, part reference interview, part selfish curiosity.
“Umm…Kind of research for my current novel? I think I’m going to invent my own cryptid for this world maybe. But also kind of like…thinking about this non-fiction project I keep dreaming about doing someday?” Wei Ying rubs at his nose self-consciously, and Lan Zhan hums a noise of encouragement, hoping that he will go on talking. “Do you know Mary Roach?” Wei Ying asks finally.
“I am familiar,” Lan Zhan says, which is a bit of an understatement. He has read all of her books, which are much less serious than the sort of thing he knows people expect him to read. They are irreverent and brimming with curiosity; there is no question she is afraid to ask about anything from space travel to ghosts, and then she manages to get some of the best scientists in the world to answer. His personal favourite is Bonk , which is about the science of sex, and notably includes the author having intercourse with her husband in an MRI machine. For science, of course. “I liked the one about the digestive system,” he adds, because Wei Ying is still looking at him uncertainly, and he is not sure that bringing up the sex book will help with that. “It was equal parts gross and fascinating. I could not put it down.”
He is rewarded by Wei Ying’s face lighting up with a smile that warms him to his toes. “Right?! I love how she takes such weird things and just asks all the right questions to make them interesting. And I keep thinking I want a book like that about, like, mythical creatures that people actually believe in. Sort of like the one she did about ghosts. It would be super fascinating to interview people who believe cryptids are real, don’t you think?”
“That makes a good subject,” Lan Zhan agrees. “It touches on how people process information…why they believe the things they do. But it also has a good story to it. I would read it.” He is in fact dying to read anything that Wei Ying has written, not that he will admit it.
Wei Ying ducks his head bashfully, hair falling over his shoulder. He is not positive, but Lan Zhan thinks that he is blushing.
“This is great!” Wei Ying says, voice slightly higher than usual as he tucks several of the books under his arm along with his laptop. “Thanks for your help, Lan Zhan!”
“Of course,” Lan Zhan says. He gestures for Wei Ying to precede him, and they meander back towards the front of the library. The gesture is partially politeness and partially selfishness; he likes to be able to watch Wei Ying, hair swinging, eyes roving around curiously despite the fact that he is here nearly every day and should find his surroundings familiar by now. Currently, he is running his free hand along the numerical signs at the end of each run, indicating what call numbers can be found in that range.
“Hey Lan Zhan, do you have all of these memorized?” he asks out of the blue, glancing back over his shoulder.
“I know the basics,” Lan Zhan says. “I am not a cataloguer. And the library pages who do the shelving have the collection much better memorized than I ever will.”
“Hmmm,” Wei Ying says thoughtfully. “So what would I find in the 300s?”
“Social sciences,” Lan Zhan answers promptly.
Wei Ying grins, and Lan Zhan suddenly realizes this is going to become a game. Nor is he averse to the idea of playing with Wei Ying. “Okay. What about…900s?” Wei Ying asks.
“History,” Lan Zhan says easily. This is, of course, where Wei Ying always sits.
“And the 200s?” Wei Ying asks.
“Religion. Ask a harder one.”
“Okay. Um. 230s then,” Wei Ying says, tapping a finger against his lower lip.
“Christianity,” Lan Zhan replies with certainty.
“Alright. 270s?”
“Christianity,” Lan Zhan says again.
“Wait, didn’t you just say--?”
“Yes. History of Christianity, if you would like to be more specific.”
“Huh,” says Wei Ying. “So like, what about, say, Buddhism?”
“294, along with Hinduism, Sikhism and Jainism.” This feels a little bit like cheating, and he wonders if he should tell Wei Ying that he minored in comparative religions at university. He certainly cannot break down the 500s with quite this degree of precision.
“Wait, so Christianity gets 230 and 270, but all four of those are lumped in together.”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan agrees. “Christianity takes up the better part of the 200s, really.”
“Okay, so where’s, like, Daoism?” Wei Ying asks.
“299—Religions not provided for elsewhere,” Lan Zhan answers.
“That’s bullshit!” Wei Ying exclaims, and then claps his hands over his mouth, looking around.
“Swearing is not forbidden,” Lan Zhan reminds him, amused.
“Yeah, but ‘Loud talking and disruptive physical behavior’ definitely are,” Wei Ying replies in an exaggerated whisper.
“You memorized that from the code of conduct?” Lan Zhan asks, imagining how much easier his life would be if a fraction of the patrons even read the code of conduct, much less remembered or abided by it.
“Yeah, well, I heard you were really strict and I didn’t want to like, get kicked out of the library, so.” Wei Ying scuffs the toe of his boot against the carpet. “Anyway, they really just like, stuck every other world religion in there as an afterthought, huh?”
“It is one of a number of rather egregious problems with the Dewey Decimal System,” Lan Zhan agrees.
“Like what else?” Wei Ying asks. Lan Zhan studies him, but his eyes are bright and curious; he seems truly interested in the vagaries of book classification. Lan Zhan glances at all the stickers on the top of Wei Ying’s laptop, including the Best Bi tag that is clearly a play on the Best Buy logo, and decides to go ahead and broach the next topic.
“Well, for example, homosexuality was classified under abnormal psychology until embarrassingly recently. And when that classification was abolished, it was placed under social problems, along with other controversies relating to public morals and customs.”
“Okay, that is even more bullshit!” Wei Ying says, remembering to keep his voice down this time. “Who designed this nonsense?”
“A dead American man with a long and sordid history of sexual harassment, racism, and anti-Semitism,” Lan Zhan says flatly.
“And we just keep using it?” Wei Ying sputters, clearly dismayed.
“Mn. Some updates have been made but that is one of the disadvantages of standardization, yes. Problems become widespread and intractable, costly or labour-intensive to change. Metadata may try to be objective, but it is not neutral. Our categories are constructed, and can encode our biases.”
Wei Ying is looking at him now with a slightly open-mouthed expression that Lan Zhan is not sure how to interpret. He may have nerded out a little too far given that Wei Ying is not a fellow library professional, he realizes belatedly. But Wei Ying recovers himself quickly, that sunny smile of his falling back into place.
“That was super fascinating, Lan Zhan! You really know a lot about libraries, huh?” Wei Ying says, voice only slightly squeaky.
“I do have a degree in them,” he points out. It would really be much more embarrassing for a library professional not to know this history.
“Haha, yes, of course you do! Silly me!” Wei Ying says. “Thanks for the books! I should get back to work now.”
“Of course,” Lan Zhan says. He has already left his colleague alone at the desk for much too long, talking with Wei Ying, and now he has monopolized Wei Ying’s work time as well. He is continually surprised by how easy it is to fall into conversation with him, a problem he has never experienced before with anyone, let alone a patron. With a nod to Wei Ying he turns down the next aisle, heading back towards the desk while Wei Ying proceeds to his customary table. Yet despite the guilty feeling, he hoards away all the new little pieces of information about Wei Ying—his work, his interests, his aspirations—like they are precious stones.
*
“Hanguang-jun! Hanguang-jun!” Lan Zhan looks up with a sigh as two of the pages come rushing out of the stacks, a half-full cart of books for reshelving still between them.
It seems that the nickname will not die. Just because he was the only person who had actually read the library’s emergency preparation plan, and consequently was the only one who was able to find the emergency lights when the power went out. That was almost a year ago now, but if anything the moniker has spread to all of the pages that are friends with these two, even new hires that were not working at the library when the original event took place.
Ouyang Zizhen and Lan Jingyi are both college students who work at the library part-time between classes. According to his uncle, Lan Jingyi is a distant cousin, but they had never met before he was hired. The two boys stumble to a halt in front of him. Ouyang Zizhen is blushing furiously, and it is Lan Jingyi who has to blurt it out.
“There are two people…. doing it in the Quiet Area,” he says, sounding perfectly scandalized. It is probably the most exciting thing that has happened during his entire shift. Lan Zhan is not sure that Jingyi is suited to the quiet, repetitive nature of shelving work.
Lan Zhan glances over at Jin Zixuan, who is the other librarian working the desk with him this shift. Technically it is his turn to enforce library policy, since Lan Zhan took care of an earlier complaint about a patron who was eating in the computer lab. But Jin Zixuan looks almost as flustered as Ouyang Zizhen, a hectic blush spreading over his pale cheeks. As usual, Lan Zhan is too soft to force him to go deal with something like that, which is how he has earned a reputation among their patrons as the strictest librarian at the branch.
“Has there been any…public nudity?” he asks the boys, so that he can brace himself for exactly what Lan Jingyi might mean by doing it before he goes over there.
The two boys look at one another, and then shake their heads. “Just uh, just some very enthusiastic…umm…making out?” Ouyang Zizhen mumbles. “On each other’s laps,” he adds, unable to meet Lan Zhan’s eye.
Ah. Well, it could be worse, Lan Zhan supposes. Any day when he does not have to call for the biohazard cleanup crew is a good day at the public library. If no one has bled, vomited, urinated or—heaven forbid—come on any library fixtures or materials, the situation is still entirely salvageable. He may not even have to issue any bans today, depending on how well the patrons in question respond to the pending intervention.
One hand behind his back, he strides off toward the Quiet Area, leaving Jin Zixuan, Lan Jingyi, and Ouyang Zizhen huddled around the reference desk.
The Quiet Area is a mixture of computers and study carrels, surrounded by high stacks, and located as far as possible from the hubbub of the children’s department. Few of the workstations are occupied at this time on a weekday, although it will fill up with students when the nearby high school lets out. There are also a few sofas located around the perimeter, and it is there that Lan Zhan finds the young couple, both of whom he recognizes as regulars. He walks up to them decisively and clears his throat.
“Excuse me. I must ask you to desist, or take your activities off of library property.”
The girl looks up at him and giggles, glancing between him and the boy whose lap she is currently occupying. Lan Zhan maintains an impassive face, and simply stares at them, waiting silently while they snicker at one another. He has been told that his stare is very intimidating, and in his experience, it is best to say as little as possible. The more said, the more likely patrons are to argue, and try to lawyer their way out of the code of conduct.
“Yeah, all right,” the boy says when they’ve laughed themselves out. “Let’s go.” The girl slides off his lap, and they leave hand in hand.
Lan Zhan idles in the Quiet Area for a few minutes, pushing in chairs and picking up pencils, so that they will not feel like he is escorting them out of the building. He honestly feels a bit bad for them. He knows that they both stay at the nearby youth shelter, where they are likely separated into boys and girls dormitories. They probably have very little opportunity to be together privately. Still, he cannot allow them to use the library for their intimate activities, whatever their situation.
On his way back to the reference desk, Lan Zhan takes a slight detour through the history section, past Wei Ying’s usual spot. At first he thinks that he is not there, when he does not spot Wei Ying’s now familiar profile through a gap in the stacks. But when he emerges from the end of the aisle, he realizes Wei Ying has his head down, pillowed on his arms. Long, dark lashes sweep against his cheeks, and his mouth has fallen slightly open. There are dark circles under his eyes, but he is still unfairly beautiful. Lan Zhan approaches the table reluctantly, not relishing what he must do next.
“Wei Ying,” he says gently, tapping his fingers against the surface of the table lightly. “You cannot sleep here.”
Wei Ying startles up, and Lan Zhan takes a half-step back automatically. It is not uncommon for patrons to react instinctively when they are awoken unexpectedly. Lan Zhan was struck once, accidentally, during the practicum he completed after his first year of library school, by a tiny old lady named Mrs. Zhou who packed a surprisingly wicked punch.
“M’not sleeping,” Wei Ying mumbles. “I was just resting my eyes.”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan says dubiously, as this is the most common excuse in the book. Wei Ying rubs his fists into his bleary eyes, and yawns so widely that his jaw cracks. It seems that in addition to being unfairly beautiful, he is also ridiculously cute.
“M’awake,” he assures Lan Zhan, reaching for the extremely large bottle of Monster energy drink next to his laptop. Since he is not in the computer lab, and it is a bottle with a lid that closes rather than an open can, Lan Zhan says nothing, instead studying the stickers on the top of Wei Ying’s laptop again. There are so many that he notices new ones every time he looks at it. Today, he spots a large Gryffindor crest sticker. However, it has been half plastered over with a banner that says F*ck TERFs in blue, pink and white lettering, and a cartoon-style fan art that appears to be…Lan Zhan leans closer. Yes, it is a trans fem Harry Potter, in a schoolgirl uniform, lightning-shaped scar peeking out from under her bangs.
When he looks up, Wei Ying is watching him with alert eyes. The bottle of Monster is now half-empty.
“I enjoy your stickers,” Lan Zhan says, both because it is true, and because he wants to assure Wei Ying he is not in that much trouble for falling asleep. He is not even going to give him a formal warning, since it has never happened before.
“The Gryffindor one?” Wei Ying asks, cocking his head.
“The fan art,” Lan Zhan clarifies, reaching out one finger to ghost over the sticker, not quite touching Wei Ying’s laptop. Wei Ying’s mouth curls up into a smile.
“Too bad she turned out to be such a TERF,” he laments. “It was my first fandom, you know? But I’ve decided she can’t take that from me. The magic of the fandom has nothing to do with her.”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan agrees. “But ‘we have the power to imagine better’ than she ever could,” he quotes.
“ Lan Zhan !” Wei Ying says. “Did you just?”
“Quote the author against herself?” Lan Zhan finishes the question for him. “Indeed. We do not need her magic.” He can feel the corner of his mouth quirking up just a little, against his will. It is hard to help it when Wei Ying is beaming up at him like that, his smile as bright as a summer day.
“We probably should have known when she introduced Cho Chang,” Lan Zhan adds thoughtfully.
“Hah!” Wei Ying exclaims, then claps a hand over his mouth to stifle the sound of his unrestrained laugh. “We probably should have known when the Gringotts goblins were Jewish caricatures,” he adds when his mirth has subsided.
“I was not precisely well-versed in anti-Semitic stereotypes as a six-year-old,” Lan Zhan admits. “But it is rather evident in retrospect.”
“Still a shame, though,” Wei Ying says wistfully. “That book meant so much to me after my parents died, you know?”
Lan Zhan does, in fact, know. Harry Potter was not, strictly speaking, his first fandom but it is still, after everything, one with a particular resonance for him. He has to clear his throat before he can speak.
“My mother read it to me,” he says. “Before she died.” They had gotten through the first three books together. It had been his brother who read the fourth book to him, hiding it from their uncle’s disapproving gaze.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, and he does not have to add anything else. His eyes are soft and empathetic, and Lan Zhan is in very imminent danger of drowning in them.
So here they are, having an orphaned Chinese diaspora moment in the middle of the library on an otherwise unremarkable weekday morning.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says finally. It is a bit embarrassing how intimate his name feels, rolling off his tongue. But he supposes that it is not every day he goes around talking about his dead mother to one of his patrons. “I should get back to work,” he reminds them both, half-turning to go.
“Lan Zhan! Wait!” Wei Ying says.
“Yes?”
“You didn’t tell me your House!” Wei Ying pouts.
“Sorting is an over-simplistic system for lazy characterization that reduces people to a singular facet of their personality and does not allow room for character development,” Lan Zhan says.
“Lan Zhan, come on!” Wei Ying cajoles. He is pouting still, but his eyes are sparkling with amusement. “Don’t make me guess.”
“You want to know if I am brave, kind, clever, or evil ?” Lan Zhan says deadpan before starting back towards the desk.
“Okay, fair!” Wei Ying says, throwing up his hands. “I’m just going to spend all afternoon speculating, then.”
“Fine,” Lan Zhan says over his shoulder, because apparently he cannot deny Wei Ying anything, which is undoubtedly going to become a very real problem for his employment if they keep this up. “Ravenclaw. Slytherclaw if we are cross-sorting.”
“Slytherclaw!? Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan! You can’t just say something like that and walk away!”
Using every ounce of his self-control, Lan Zhan does in fact walk away. He does not look back at Wei Ying.
Lan Jingyi and Ouyang Zizhen are still huddled around the reference desk whispering to one another when he returns. The complaint about the public display of affection seems like a lifetime ago now, but Jin Zixuan does not appear to be bothered by how long Lan Zhan has been gone. He glances up briefly from his email as Lan Zhan resumes his seat.
“Do we need to write an incident report?” Lan Jingyi asks eagerly. The fact that he finds the idea of writing an incident report exciting speaks volumes about how tedious he finds shelving work, Lan Zhan thinks. Who volunteers for extra paperwork?
“No need,” he says. He gives the boys a look, and they grab their cart and head back to the stacks to resume shelving. Strictly speaking, they should probably each be working off of their own cart, but that is the problem of the circulation manager, and Lan Zhan knows better than to interfere in Meng Yao’s domain unnecessarily. The patrons and staff members who think he is such a strict rule follower have no idea how much he pretends not to see.
“Thank you,” Jin Zixuan says, when the boys have disappeared. “That should have been my turn.”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan acknowledges. “You are taking point for the next patron who complains about the new printing system.” He cannot believe how much money the library has spent on something that is so unintuitive.
“Deal,” Zixuan agrees. “For handling that, I’ll take the next three. I have no idea how you keep a straight face when people are so…”
“Shameless?” Lan Zhan suggests.
“Utterly,” Zixuan agrees fervently.
*
It is Wednesday, but Lan Zhan has the day off, as it will be his weekend to work Saturday this week. Coincidentally, his brother is on a similar rotation at the university library, and so they are meeting for tea. After living together for so long he still finds it strange to need to make specific plans to see his brother. They have a regular Sunday night dinner with their uncle, but they are still figuring the rest out.
By the time Lan Zhan finishes his workout and morning routine, it is still more than an hour before he is due to meet Lan Huan. So Lan Zhan packs up his laptop and noise-canceling headphones, thinking that he can arrive early and get in a little bit of work on his fic while he waits. He has a fairly solid outline in place, and now it is a matter of actually getting down the words.
Food For Thought is a small café with an adjoining bookstore that focuses on spiritual and supernatural subjects. It is not Lan Zhan’s usual area of interest, but the café is quiet and welcoming, and serves a better selection of teas than most of the alternatives, which lean towards coffee. Other than a slight tendency towards smelling too strongly of incense from time to time, it is a very pleasant place to work.
He orders a matcha latte, providing his own reusable insulated mug so that the drink will stay hot the whole time he is here, then moves to wait for his order by the bar.
“Lan Zhan!” says a surprised voice.
Lan Zhan turns to find Wei Ying seated at a table next to the window. He has his usual backpack, laptop, and fluffy winter coat spread out around him, along with a very large cup of coffee, though the colour is so pale that it must be mostly milk. The table is littered with an obscene number of empty sugar packets.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan replies, surprised. Patrons rarely acknowledge or even recognize him outside the library, and he does not engage unless they greet him first. “Not writing at the library today?”
“Oh, you know. This is part of my rotation. Sometimes I go to the community college library too. Variety is good for the muse. And I wouldn’t want to wear out my welcome at the public library.”
“It is a public library. You are, by definition, welcome any time that we are open,” Lan Zhan points out. They have plenty of patrons who arrive at opening, and depart at closing. As long as they follow the code of conduct there is no rule about how long they can stay, although the public computers have time limits.
The barista calls out his order and Lan Zhan turns to retrieve his drink, remembering to tuck a tip into the jar.
“Do you want to sit down? Or are you meeting someone?” Wei Ying asks.
Lan Zhan glances around, thinking that he does not wish to interrupt Wei Ying’s work, but most of the other tables are occupied. “My brother,” he admits. “But he is not due to get here for another forty-five minutes or so. I was planning to do some work while I wait for him.”
Wei Ying clears off half of the small table, sweeping up the many empty sugar packets, and gestures Lan Zhan towards the other seat. “Go ahead. I won’t interrupt your work by nattering at you the whole time, I promise.”
“It is I who am interrupting your work,” Lan Zhan points out, but he accepts the seat. “How is the writing going today?”
Wei Ying holds out a hand and waves it side to side. His thumb is stuck through a hole in the sleeve of his black hoodie. “So-so. I got a few good scenes out, but I need to knit them all together now, and there are some logistics to figure out there. I was just thinking about switching over to the other project for a bit, for a change of pace. How about you?”
Lan Zhan’s breath hitches for a moment, thinking that Wei Ying has somehow discovered his fic writing. But then he remembers that he said he was working, and Wei Ying must be asking about that.
“I am currently planning a community read for this summer,” he says. “The Friends of the Library will be sponsoring it, so I am due to present them with some options for the author selection next week.” This is all entirely true; it is simply not what he was planning on working on today, his day off. The public library does not pay overtime.
“That sounds super cool!” Wei Ying says enthusiastically. “So everyone will read the same book?”
“That is the idea,” Lan Zhan agrees. “Like a very large book club for the whole city.” Once more, he wants to ask Wei Ying about his books. He had given into temptation and tried to look them up, but had not had any luck, so he presumes that Wei Ying writes under a pen name.
“Well, I’ll let you get to work, then!” Wei Ying says, hitching his headphones back up. “Don’t mind me!”
Lan Zhan would in fact not mind continuing to talk to Wei Ying, but while it is his day off, he wants to be respectful of the fact that Wei Ying is actually working here. So he sets up his own computer and plugs in his headphones. He clicks on the noise cancellation, but does not actually turn on any music.
It is a little bit odd at first, trying to work on his story with Wei Ying sitting right across from him. Aside from still being the most distractingly beautiful man Lan Zhan has ever met, the knowledge that Wei Ying reads fan fic—could theoretically discover this work once he posts it—sends a nervous fluttering through his stomach. But eventually he settles back into the scene, and the words start flowing freely.
It is some time later when the steady clack of typing across the table from him stops, and Lan Zhan looks up to find Wei Ying staring across the café, mouth open. “I, uh, I think your brother is here,” Wei Ying says, lifting his chin.
Lan Zhan glances over his shoulder, and sure enough Lan Huan is coming in the door. Judging by his wet hair and head-to-toe athleisure, with a yoga mat slung over his back, he has come directly from the gym. Lan Zhan glances at his watch and realizes that he has lost track of the time. Lan Huan is in fact a few minutes late. He’d meant to pack up his things and find a new table before his brother arrived.
“You didn’t mention you were twins,” Wei Ying says.
Lan Zhan frowns. “We are not. He is three years older than me.”
“Huh,” Wei Ying replies as Lan Huan approaches their table with a smile, and Lan Zhan rises to greet him, giving him a quick hug.
“Didi! You invited a friend!” His brother sounds so delighted that Lan Zhan can feel his ears warming with embarrassment as he glances at Wei Ying.
But Wei Ying is smiling, standing up and holding out his hand to shake Lan Huan’s as if all of this is perfectly normal. “Hi, I’m Wei Ying! I know Lan Zhan from the library,” he says brightly.
“Very nice to meet you, Wei Ying!” Lan Huan says so effusively that Lan Zhan wants to melt through the floor and die. He might as well be yelling my little brother has no friends, please be nice to him!
“Wei Ying is working, brother. We should find our own table,” Lan Zhan suggests. Fortunately the crowd has eased up, and there are now several open places around the café.
“Of course, we wouldn’t want to interrupt,” Lan Huan says smoothly. “I’ll just go get my drink and then we can find our own spot. Can I order anything else for the two of you while I’m up there?”
“No, thank you,” Lan Zhan and Wei Ying say in unison, causing Lan Huan’s smile to widen until it is crinkling the corner of his eyes.
“All right then, I’ll be back in a moment. A pleasure to meet you, Wei Ying,” Lan Huan says, his eyes sparkling merrily.
Lan Zhan saves his work and starts packing up his computer while Wei Ying resumes his seat and takes a few gulps of his coffee, which must now be cold. He does not seem to be bothered.
“Thank you for sharing your table. I hope I did not disturb your work too much,” Lan Zhan says as he shoulders his messenger bag.
“Oh, no problem! I can work anywhere,” Wei Ying assures him. “You didn’t bother me at all. I got lots done. In fact, having you sitting there working made me feel like I had to work just as much!”
“It was a productive morning,” Lan Zhan agrees, feeling strangely contented by their mutual accomplishments. He hesitates, then asks, “Will I see you at the library tomorrow?”
“That’s the rotation,” Wei Ying agrees. “See you tomorrow, Lan Zhan,” he says with a smile that does things to Lan Zhan’s stomach.
“Until tomorrow, Wei Ying,” he manages.
Not wanting to keep Wei Ying from his work any longer, he goes in search of an empty table. The back corner is filled by a group of older women conducting a knitting circle, so Lan Zhan chooses a spot near the front door, bussing the dishes left by the last customer himself since the staff have not yet had time to clear the tables after the morning rush. His brother joins him a moment later, setting down his usual order of a London Fog and a vanilla bean scone.
“A co-worker?” Lan Huan asks with a smile when they are settled. He is looking over Lan Zhan’s shoulder, where he no doubt has a clear line of sight to Wei Ying’s table.
“A patron,” Lan Zhan clarifies flatly, and takes a sip of his latte. It is still warm inside the travel mug.
“Ah,” Lan Huan says, picking a corner off of his scone and popping it into his mouth.
“How are things at the music library?” Lan Zhan asks, deliberately changing the subject. His brother accepts the non-sequitur with grace and begins telling him about a new acquisition of gagaku scores the university has recently made, and which he is now cataloguing.
Lan Zhan does not allow himself to look over his shoulder at Wei Ying’s table the entire time he is talking with his brother. By the time they are getting up to leave and he allows himself to sneak a peek, Wei Ying is gone.