In China, there resides a certain ancient family, and its name is Lan. For centuries, it led all the nation's greatest scholars, and they say it had three thousand rules and that not a single member of it had an ugly face. They say a lot of things. The family still lives in China…but it also lives in the United States, in suburban Michigan, and the next head of the family is stuck eating a sandwich he had to pick the turkey out of because his school doesn't seem to understand the concept of vegetarian food.

Lan Huan knows that bread and lettuce aren't exactly nutritious but his other option was Flaming Hot Cheetos and he isn't quite ready to die just yet, no matter how much Meng Yao insists that they aren't spicy. Lan Huang doesn't trust that damn cheetah with those damn sunglasses—it has something to hide and he refuses to let it wreak havoc on his digestive tract.

He says as much to Meng Yao, who just rolls his eyes as he hands Lan Huan some gummy bears. "It's not that spicy," he insists, again. He tacks on a look of complete and utter exasperation, as if Lan Huan is being the unreasonable one.

Lan Huan just pointedly looks at the Nie Mingjue voodoo doll whose leg is still sticking out of Meng Yao's backpack. Meng Yao primly ignores him, continuing, "It's all about tolerance. The more you eat it, the easier it will get."

"Like the flu?" Lan Huan asks.

"No. Like…running a marathon."

"So, absolute misery, only delivering satisfaction upon its completion?"

Meng Yao frowns at him, then starts to dig through his backpack. The Nie Mingjue voodoo doll falls to the floor and Lan Huan imagines his best friend at home, rolling off the bed and too sick to actually realize what had happened. Meng Yao puts the doll back into his backpack without a sound. Lan Huan takes another bite of his sandwich and gags on the lettuce.

Eventually, Meng Yao emerges again with a bottle of hot sauce that he slides across the table. "It's made from jalapenos," he explains, pointing to its label. "Start putting a bit on everything you eat. It's a great way to start."

Lan Huan just stares at it with horror. "Meng Yao, you know you can't pull out—"

"Hot sauce!" a voice shrieks. Lan Huan closes his eyes and counts in his head, T minus five seconds to impact, four, three, two—

The table jerks so hard that Henry and Henriette's Jalapeno Hot Mess tilts over and lands on its side, and Lan Huan's plate goes sliding off the table. His sandwich is still in his hands and he suddenly wishes that he had placed it on the plate so that he'd have an excuse to not eat it anymore. He sighs, turns, and pastes a smile onto his face. "Ah, Wei Ying, it's nice to see you here."

The moment Wei Ying recognizes him, his face falls. "Oh," he says. "You."

"Me," Lan Huan agrees. One would think that Wei Ying would be more scared of his boyfriend's older brother, but Wei Ying isn't scared of anything—other than dogs—so Lan Huan isn't exactly surprised. "What are you doing here?"

Wei Ying's eyes narrow in on the hot sauce which is rolling in lazy circles on the table. "Jalapenos?" He snorts. "What, little baby can't handle any spice?"

Well, yes, but Lan Huan is not going to admit it—and especially not to Wei Ying, of all people. "Don't you eat lunch with my brother?" he asks, shoving the hot sauce back onto Meng Yao's side of the table. "He might get lonely." Which may actually happen.

Wei Ying raises an eyebrow. "Oh, don't worry," he says, projecting his voice loud enough for the entire room to hear, "my Lan Zhan's having the time of his life discussing your weird-ass Donald Duck fixation with Nie Huaisang."

Meng Yao's spoon falls out of his hand. Silence falls over the cafeteria. Lan Huan is sure that if he looks away, he will make eye contact with Lan Zhan's horrified eyes from across the cafeteria—and probably Nie Huaisang's amused ones, as well. Which is completely not fair, by the way. Lan Huan forces himself to keep smiling pleasantly as he looks Wei Ying right in the eyes. "And I'm sure 'prodigy' of yours is having a splendid time tracking down your dear protege."

There are audible gasps. He hears a strangled scream from someone he assumes is Jiang Cheng. If it were possible, Wei Ying's face would probably be going red from rage, but he stays just as pale as ever, though his glare speaks volumes. "Oh, I'm onto you, Lan Huan," he hisses before promptly racing out of the cafeteria, screaming "Xue Yang, you piece of shit!" the whole way.

Lan Huan, satisfied, goes back to his food. His lettuce sandwich is still in his hands. He suddenly feels a lot less satisfied.

"Was bringing Xue Yang up really that good of an idea?" Meng Yao asks, voice strained.

Lan Huan's fingers go right through the sandwich as he grits out, "If he can play dirty, then so can I."

"Lan Huan, the you from middle school would have been horrified," Meng Yao says, grinning lightly.

Lan Huan says, "The me from middle school would also call you out on that stupid voodoo doll of yours, wouldn't he?"

Meng Yao silently zips his backpack up and that's that.


One can keep track of who Wei Ying hates by monitoring which students have been opening their lockers only to get drenched in approximately five gallons of blood. For example, Jin Zixuan and Wen Chao are drenched every day. Lan Zhan, Jiang Cheng, and Nie Huaisang are never drenched. Meng Yao has been drenched once or twice, along with Nie Mingjue.

Lan Huan has been getting drenched once every two weeks since the seventh grade, so he has a system worked out: he asks Lan Zhan to hold onto three spare outfits, all of which fit snugly into that giant duffle bag he likes to call a backpack, and—after wading through the red liquid to gather the materials he needs—he makes the trek from his locker to the boys' locker room, where Lan Zhan silently hands him a change of clothes.

Lan Huan has mastered the art of taking a quick shower and can find himself spotless in under two minutes.

And he has never figured out who cleans up the trail of blood he leaves behind, but both Lan Zhan and Meng Yao insist that it isn't them, Nie Mingjue doesn't even know how to properly sweep a floor, and Lan Huan doesn't actually have any other friends. He chalks it up to the poor invisible custodian, Mr. Han, who really should get paid more.

Anyway, after the encounter in the cafeteria, Lan Huan isn't surprised to get drenched in blood. His locker-neighbor, Jason Knight, jumps away a bit, then sighs. "Why does it always catch me by surprise? Ah, whatever. You good, bro?"

Lan Huan spits a bit of blood from his mouth into the blooming puddle on the floor. "Yes, I am," he says. "Good luck on your stat test."

"Thanks! Good luck getting cleaned up!"

"Thank you," Lan Huan replies with a nod. From farther down the hallways, he hears a high-pitched scream. A glance reveals it to be the new girl, Wang Lingjiao, passed out on the floor.

Someone nudges her. "Is she alive?"

"I'll take her to the nurse," Wen Chao, also drenched in blood, volunteers. And, well, no one can think of any real reason to argue, so Wen Chao drags Wang Lingjiao's body across the tiled floor in the direction of the nurse's office.

Lan Huan shrugs and heads to the boys' locker room. There is a very specific sequence of events that Lan Huan's bi-weekly clean up follows. The steps are numerous but very clear in order to ensure maximum efficiency. Something that is most definitely not anywhere in the steps is Nie Huaisang standing in the boys' locker room instead of Lan Zhan.

Lan Huan stares for a moment, perplexed, before suddenly realizing that he's drenched in blood, smelling like a butchering disaster…and alone with Nie Huaisang. He wonders what he'd done in his past life to deserve this. Surely, he couldn't have been so…so evil as to warrant this! Probably not actually. It's more likely that Lan Huan just murdered someone out of sheer obliviousness, or even let an actual murderer walk free due to his own sheer stupidity. Maybe he'd hosted the Zodiac Killer in his house and didn't notice a damn thing. The possibilities are endless.

He clears his throat. "Huaisang," he says brightly, "where's A-Zhan?"

Nie Huaisang shrugs. "Making out with Wei Ying in a broom closet."

So this is what true betrayal feels like. Not that it's Lan Zhan's fault, of course, since he's always been weak to that damn boyfriend of his. "Well played, Wei Ying," he hisses to the sidewall, "well played."

Nie Huaisang's phone stays up, covering the bottom half of his face. "Say, Lan Huan," he says, "why don't you get cleaned up? I've heard that Ms. Meng's class is a nightmare…"

Fair point. As much as Lan Huan hates to admit it, Meng Yao's mother is the strictest teacher he's ever had. Then another thought slaps him across the face. "You have my clothes?"

"I do! I managed to snag them from Lan Zhan's bag!" And suddenly Nie Huaisang is trying to shove his spare change of clothes into his hands, and Lan Huan has to lean sharply backward so that he doesn't get any blood on it. Nie Huaisang yelps, sheepish, and says, "Oh, right, the blood…" Lan Huan doesn't care, though. His eyes zero in on the stack of clothes. Presented proudly at the top of the stack are Lan Huan's Donald Duck boxers.

He would pay someone to kill him right now.

Nie Huaisang doesn't pay them any attention but he must have noticed them! What should he do what should he do what should he do what should he do—

"I'll just set the clothes on the bench, then!" Nie Huaisang continues. "You go on!"

Never has Lan Huan taken the option of escape faster. He drops his supplies on the bench before booking it into the showers and drawing the curtain closed, peeling his clothes off, and turning the shower on like a dying man. This is fine, he reasons as he scrubs himself down. After all, Nie Huaisang is too…non-confrontational to say anything about the boxers, so he won't embarrass Lan Huan any further. Of course, there is no greater embarrassment than your crush finding out that you own (one pair of!) Donald Duck underwear, but Lan Huan has decided to pick his battles.

He's still drying his hair with a towel when he opens the shower curtains, only to be faced with Nie Huaisang's piercing stare. Lan Huan closes the curtains. He is naked and he expected Nie Huaisang to have already left, but nope, he is still sitting next to his clothes, and he has seen Lan Huan naked.

Today has not been a good day.

Slowly, Lan Huan wraps the towel around his waist—why isn't it big enough to circle his wait? Is there a fabric shortage he's unaware of?—and once again opens the shower curtains, keeping his eyes on his clothes as he reaches for them intently. Before he's able to grab them, Nie Huaisang's hand wraps around his forearm, stopping his progress with terrifying force.

Lan Huan looks up. Nie Huaisang stares back. Lan Huan says, "Huaisang, I—" Nie Huaisang stands up and takes a step forward. Lan Huan instinctively takes a step back. Then Nie Huaisang is walking right toward him, and what is Lan Huan supposed to do but back away, even as his arm is still being held?

And then his back hits the wall and Nie Huaisang's hand moves from his arm to resting on the wall beside his neck as he leans in. Here's the thing: the top of Nie Huaisang's head comes up to the bottom of Lan Huan's chin. Still, no matter how tiny Nie Huaisang is, he's no less intimidating, and so distracting that it takes Lan Huan a full five seconds of silence to realize something: Lan Huan has been kabedoned. By his crush. In the boys' locker room. While he's essentially naked. Lan Huan thinks he's going to die.

"Lan Huan," Nie Huaisang says, as casually as ever, "I helped you, didn't I?" He uses his other hand to tap his phone against Lan Huan's collarbone.

has stopped working.

How does one speak English? How does one make sounds that others recognize as human speech? Lan Huan's mouth defaults to, "Yes."

Nie Huaisang raises an eyebrow. "Good. Then you can help me, yes?"

"Yes," Lan Huan says immediately.

Nie Huaisang pulls back, face bright and phone (on his collarbone, it was on his collarbone!) in hand. "Great! Put on your clothes and you can get to class!" And then he just walks out of the boys' locker room, as if he hadn't just completely robbed Lan Huan of the ability to speak.

He reaches up and touches his collarbone and decides that, even if Nie Huaisang is going to ask his help hiding a body, it was definitely worth it.


As far as he can tell, there are two types of Lan: the kind that has the latest smartphone, and the kind that still walks around with an iPhone 5. Lan Huan is of the former category, and Lan Zhan is of the latter. To be fair, though, Lan Huan would probably also be of the latter category if the entirety of seventh grade never happened, but seventh grade has scarred him so thoroughly that he will never escape its clutches.

So, Lan Huan always has the newest iPhone model, and his uncle never refuses to buy it for him because Lan Huan's grades are always top-notch, so all is well.

The problem is, Lan Huan isn't exactly intuitive when it comes to technology, and it would be too embarrassing to ask Lan Zhan who, despite his old phone, seems to just know what to do with these things. He has resolved to just. Not use his phone, ever. It has yet to come back and bite him in the butt…until now, when Nie Huaisang texts him. You see, no one texts him—not Lan Zhan, not Meng Yao, not Nie Mingjue, no one. This is for a very good reason which he has never explained to anyone, but they have all respected him.

He has never informed Nie Huaisang of this, and so when Nie Huaisang texts him in between classes, his first instinct is to text him and ask him to stop, but the thought fills him with such pain that he lets it be. So, now he's actively texting someone for the first time in five years.

This is fine. Everything is fine. He forces himself to swallow another one of Meng Yao's gummy bears that he'd saved from lunch.

His conversation with Nie Huaisang goes like this:

Huaisang: Lan Huan!

Me: Hi

Huaisang: How are you?

Me: I'm fine. You?

Huaisang: Nice

Huaisang: So about that favor

Huaisang: You know meng yao's voodoo doll

Me: Yes

Huaisang: Help me get rid of it

Huaisang: It's been causing brother too many problems

Me: I see

Me: Well, A-Yao does seem to take pleasure in stabbing it with the closes utensil

Me: He stole a fork out of my hand once

Huaisang: Hahaha

Huaisang: I'll get him for that

Huaisang: Can I come over to your place after school?

Me: Sure

And so, that was that.


The unspoken rule of the Lan household is that, if Lan Zhan or Lan Huan want to bring someone over they have to ask Lan Qiren first. So, in between sixth and seventh period, Lan Huan shoves himself into a broom closet close to his classroom and pulls out his phone, dialing his uncle's number and waiting anxiously as it rings.

Lan Qiren picks up within three seconds. "A-Huan, is everything alright?" he demands.

Lan Huan blinks. "Um, yes? Is something wrong at home?"

There is a pause, then, "No." Lan Qiren sounds hesitant. "Why did you call me?"

"I was wondering if I could bring someone over after school."

"You finally have another girlfriend?" Lan Qiren asks.

Lan Huan immediately scowls at the phone. "What? No. Why would you think that?"

"Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue always tell me themselves when they're coming over, so it couldn't be them," Lan Qiren says. "And the only other person you've ever brought over is that ex of yours."

"That is…" True, actually. "Whatever. Can we stop talking about this? Let's stop talking about this."

Lan Qiren hums contemplatively on the other end. Lan Huan knows that his uncle takes a while to make decisions, so he leans back to rest his back against the wall, only to hit something that is most definitely not a piece of custodial equipment. Lan Huan turns around with a strangled scream and his uncle demanding, "A-Huan, what's wrong?"

In the dim light, he finally makes out a form. It's a good bit shorter than him and much slighter as well, and something about it is familiar…oh. "Mo Xuanyu?"

Mo Xuanyu stares at him blankly, then says, "Backing into someone is rude."

"You didn't even tell me you were here."

"I thought you knew."

"How was I supposed to know?"

"You couldn't sense my presence?"

"…no?" How is Lan Huan supposed to answer that?

Mo Xuanyu brightens up. "Oh, good!"

Lan Huan is pretty sure that he's lost the conversation. Sighing, he gathers as many Senior Vibes as he can manage and tells Mo Xuanyu, "Scram." Mo Xuanyu is a sophomore who will probably listen to him, but he's also Wei Ying's "apprentice" so, really, it's a fifty-fifty chance.

Mo Xuanyu squints at him intently, then shakes his head and shoves his way out of the broom closet, muttering something. Lan Huan sighs and pulls his phone back to his ear. "Ah, sorry about that, Uncle. But can I bring someone over?"

Lan Qiren responds, "Yes."

"Thank you."

The resulting silence is awkward, with Lan Huan waiting for his Uncle to end the phone call (as is appropriate). However, what he gets instead is Lan Qiren tentatively saying, "You know, she was good for you. Why did you break up with—"

Lan Huan hangs up the phone.


Back in China, the Lan family owns a sprawling, beautiful estate called the Cloud Recesses. Lan Huan has vague memories of spending summers there as a child, before he started to spend summers doing a multitude of extracurricular activities that required him to stay in the United States.

Lan Huan lives with his uncle and brother in a relatively large apartment in suburban Michigan, so, you know, that's a bit of a large difference.

Nie Huaisang knocks on the apartment door three times in a kind of off-beat rhythm that is almost definitely from some pop song that Lan Huan has no knowledge of. He has half a mind to go and figure it out—watching hours of YouTube, if he must—but decides that, perhaps, that would be overkill. He forces himself to smile pleasantly as he unlocks the front door. "Huaisang, come in."

Nie Huaisang waltzes in without a care. He's been over before, of course, by virtue of being Nie Mingjue's younger brother and Lan Zhan's best friend, but him being invited over by himself by Lan Huan is something completely new. It makes Lan Huan feel off-kilter in a way that leaves his stomach awash in anxiety. Okay, so maybe "awash" isn't a good term. Perhaps "under a tsunami of anxiety"? "Drowning in a typhoon of anxiety"? Closer, but not quite.

Nie Huaisang smiles at him brightly. He greets Lan Huan and Lan Qiren—Lan Zhan is doing Mathletes right now—before promptly dragging Lan Huan up to his room and slamming the door shut behind them. "So," he says, "let's do this."

It takes Lan Huan a good moment to remember why, exactly, Nie Huaisang is here. "Right. So, why are you so concerned about the voodoo doll? It's better than A-Yao actually taking his stress out on Mingjue, you know."

"It would be," Nie Huaisang agrees lightly, "if the doll weren't effective."

Lan Huan freezes. "No," he immediately denies. "A-Yao wouldn't use an actual, working voodoo doll on Mingjue!" That would be…mean! That would be so completely horrible! Surely not even A-Yao—who doesn't hide his darker side from Lan Huan nearly as well as he thinks he does—wouldn't intentionally cause Nie Mingjue any (major) harm! The idea is so unthinkable. Of course, Nie Mingjue and Meng Yao don't get along very well, but Lan Huan doesn't get along with Wei Ying and they've managed to coexist pretty well! …other than the whole "get drenched with blood every other week" thing, but that's beside the point. Bottom line, he can't imagine Meng Yao stabbing that doll of his even while knowing it would make Nie Mingjue feel like he's been stabbed!

A terrible thought suddenly occurs to him. "Is that why Mingjue is 'home sick'? Is he suffering from the voodoo doll?"

"Oh, no, he's just a little bitch who can't handle the flu shot."

Ah. "Fair enough. But still, Huaisang, is the voodoo doll really that bad?"

"It visibly affects him," Nie Huaisang intones. "I see Meng Yao stab the doll and then Brother…Brother…" He looks away, blinking away his own tears.

Lan Huan's stomach drops. "What was the most serious one?"

"On his leg. Meng Yao cut it off and sewed it back on—" right, Lan Huan remembers that day…it was a weird lunch period— "and Brother couldn't stop itching his leg!" What?

Lan Huan stares at him. "What do you mean 'itch'?"

"I mean he itched it so bad that it started bleeding! And whenever Meng Yao stabs that stupid doll of his, Brother gets so itchy! It's painful to watch him, Lan Huan! We have to put an end to this."

Lan Huan puts his head in his hands and makes himself take a deep breath in, and then another out. "Huaisang," he says tightly, "did you just get me all worked up over Mingjue getting itchy?" Please say no, please say no, please say no, please—

"It's a travesty!"

Lan Huan thinks that Wei Ying wouldn't mind killing him as long as he asks nicely. Sure, Lan Zhan would try to stop him, but there's only a fifty-percent chance that he'd succeed. The only successful distraction would be making out with Wei Ying, and his brother's imminent death may or may not make Lan Zhan less horny—he doesn't know for sure, but he does know, thanks to a very horrifying incident where Lan Zhan forgot to wipe his search history, that Lan Zhan finds anything even remotely related to Wei Ying unbearably hot. Lan Huan dearly wishes he could forget the whole ordeal (especially the Google search "how to have hot ghost sex" which has been forever seared into his brain). It all depends on how horny his brother is, then.

He decides to place the idea on the backburner for now. "Huaisang," he says firmly, "you scared me. Don't do that."

"I didn't mean to scare you!"

"Huaisang…"

Nie Huaisang pouts and Lan Huan stares at him and thinks, 'This is the boy who kabedoned you in the boys' locker room.' His brain helpfully supplies him with the image of Nie Huaisang leaning up toward him, phone tapping against Lan Huan's collarbone, and Lan Huan immediately forgets about whatever he was thinking of. "Um."

"But you'll still help me, right?" Nie Huaisang asks. "I helped you, it's only fair."

"Yes," Lan Huan says because he can't get anything else out of his mouth right now.

Nie Huaisang smiles. "Good. Now, first thing's first—we need to figure out how to neutralize the doll! But to do that, we need to go to whoever gave it to him." It's at this point that Nie Huaisang falls into an expectant silence. Lan Huan is still trying to shove the feeling of Nie Huaisang's phone out of his mind. Nie Huaisang's smile falls at his continued silence. "Didn't Meng Yao tell you where he got the doll?"

Lan Huan, finally back in control of his own body, frowned. "No," he says, "and I didn't want to ask him, really."

Nie Huaisang blinks. "Okay," he says. "I guess we have to figure it out on our own, then."

"I can ask Meng Yao now," Lan Huan offers.

Nie Huaisang immediately shakes his head. "No! He'll realize that we're on to him!"

How? How would Meng Yao realize that they're onto him just from asking him where he got the voodoo doll? Lan Huan almost asks, but then he sees the fire burning in Nie Huaisang's eyes and realizes that it would be pointless. Sighing, he says, "Then how will we do this?"

"Come on, Lan Huan! Think! Who are the only people that could make a voodoo doll?" Nie Huaisang demands. And, well, fair enough. They get to work.


There are exactly four people that Meng Yao could have gotten the voodoo doll from: Xue Yang, Mo Xuanyu, Wei Ying, and Wen Ning. Since Wei Ying hates Lan Huan, Mo Xuanyu does everything Wei Ying says, and Wen Ning is Wen Ning, they decide to try their luck with Xue Yang…who may or may not be a psychotic murderer, but that's beside the point.

Xue Yang is a sophomore who lives in a cardboard box behind the town Olive Garden, subsisting off of old pasta, breadsticks, and the occasional shrimp scampi. Usually, though, he's stuck eating salad, and today seems to be one of those days, since he's chewing dispassionately on some lettuce when Nie Huaisang and Lan Huan make their way into his cardboard box. He looks up, eyes wide, before narrowing in on Lan Huan.

Lan Huan promptly finds a bowl of Olive Garden salad shoved into his hands. "You're vegetarian," Xue Yang says, "you eat it."

Lan Huan stares down at his salad and wonders why everyone seems to think it's all he eats. Widely varied vegetarian food exists, and just because some people eat obscene amounts of bacon for breakfast each morning doesn't mean that there's no other food. Why does he always get rabbit food shoved at him when he goes out to eat? It isn't fair—he doesn't force people to eat just beef jerky whenever they come to his house. Hypocrisy, he figures. Ugh.

…he still eats the Olive Garden salad, though.

Xue Yang leans back, resting against the wall of his cardboard box—which is surprisingly roomy, by the way (the chandelier is a nice touch)—and says, "Well, what's brought you to my humble abode?"

Lan Huan figures it would be a bit more humble without the floating fireplace, but he just swallows down an olive and responds, "Do you make voodoo dolls?"

Xue Yang's grin intensifies. "Hoo boy, who managed to screw up so bad that you, of all people, want to torture them with a voodoo doll?"

"No—wait, what do you mean 'you of all people'?" Lan Huan demands. "I can use a voodoo doll if I want. I'm not scared." He brandishes his fork like a sword, ready to cut down his enemies.

Nie Huaisang pats his arm reassuringly. "Yes, I'm sure you could, but you're too nice to actually do it," he explains. "Like, you're Lan Huan: the Nice Kid. You help everyone, you're friends with everyone, you participate in so many school activities. Who would think you'd get a voodoo doll?"

Lan Huan stares at him blankly. Since when has he been someone who's "friends with everyone"? His friends are: Lan Zhan, Nie Mingjue, Meng Yao, and maybe Nie Huaisang. That's it. And Lan Zhan may not even count, since he's Lan Huan's brother. So, he has three friends, maybe. He used to have more, of course, but that was back in middle school and—that's beside the point. Bottom line: "What?" He stands. "I can get a voodoo doll of someone, if I want!" He has an idea for who, actually…but it would be an absolutely terrible idea, not to mention Wei Ying would hate him even more if he ever found out.

But. He can still do it. Just to prove to himself that he can.

Nie Huaisang tilts his head to the side. "Wow, is there really someone you hate enough to get a voodoo doll of them?"

And his plan shatters, because the truth is: no, he does not have anyone he hates enough to get a voodoo doll of. He has someone in mind, of course, but he doesn't hate them—never has, never will. His potential voodoo doll would sit on his nightstand without ever being touched a single time. Rigidly, Lan Huan sits back down, silent.

Xue Yang grins. "Yeah, that's what I thought." While Lan Huan curls his hands into fists, Xue Yang turns and looks at Nie Huaisang. "You, on the other hand, I believe wholeheartedly. Who's got on your shit list?"

"Ah, we're not looking for voodoo dolls," Nie Huaisang says, "we're just wondering if you've ever supplied one to Meng Yao."

Xue Yang snorts. "Yeah, no. The thing is, I can't make functional voodoo dolls. I'm working on it…but I can't yet. Go ask Wei Ying or Wen Ning about that kind of stuff. I can help with other things, though—curses and hexes, whatever you want."

"Ah, no curses. We just wanted to know where Meng Yao got the voodoo doll from," Nie Huaisang replies pleasantly. "…but maybe I'll come back in the future."

Xue Yang grins. "Great! Now, get out—I have something cooking in the back room and you two may or may not die in agony once it awakens."

That was more than enough to get Lan Huan and Nie Huaisang climbing out of Xue Yang's cardboard box. Unfortunately, it's not until they're already a good block away and Lan Huan realizes that he's still clutching the salad tightly in his grasp. "Dang it," he hisses.

"It's just salad," Nie Huaisang points out.

"Salad is all I ever get to eat when I go outside. At least Olive Garden has vegetarian pasta…" Olive Garden has a lot of vegetarian options, actually, and being able to customize meals is incredibly helpful…but sometimes Lan Huan wants to eat out at someplace other than Olive Garden or, like, Pizza Hut. Sighing, he resigns himself to finishing his salad and tries not to think too much about his conversation with Xue Yang.

He fails.


A/N: this was originally posted as part of xisang week 2020 in ao3 (XisangWeek2020) on October 9th 2020. here's the beginning note that i posted this with:

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY LAN XICHEN!

Also: this was supposed to be a one-shot. I repeat, this was supposed to be a one-shot. However, I quickly discovered that I was not going to be able to finish this on time, so here! Have part one out of two! I'll (hopefully) put part two up tomorrow! I have a good deal of it written out so I should be good to go..."

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