Fukai

Wei Wuxian in episode 5 (part 2)

bonus:

Smallsword

British

c.1780-1810

The smallsword was the typical civilian sidearm worn in Europe from about 1650 to 1800. It was both a deadly weapon and a stylish costume accessory for the fashionable gentleman. The materials of smallsword hilts vary considerably, according to the wealth and taste of their owner. In England, silver was the preferred medium, and the custom of hallmarking silver with date-letters provides the opportunity to document changing forms and ornament. English smallswords served as models for Colonial American silversmiths.

MDZS WangXian AU: Lan Wangji, straitlaced business tycoon, falls for Wei Wuxian, MotoGP racer. Inspired by @minatu‘s beautiful short hair modern Wangxian au sketch on twitter here.

There he is—Lan Wangji, one half of the Twin Jades of Lan, brothers who single-handedly revived their father’s dying business and nurtured it into a multimillion-dollar corporation. 

He stands straight and tall, dressed in a fine-pressed suit that hugs the wing of his shoulders, the line of his trim waist. Like his brother, Lan Xichen, his face is fair as ivory, his hair dark and well-trimmed if not for the bangs that fall over long—impossibly long—eyelashes. But unlike his brother, there’s no softness to his expression, no curve to his pink lips, and something about that impassive gaze draws Wei Wuxian to him like a moth to the flame. 

Excusing himself, Wei Wuxian pulls away from the bevy of girls and jogs over to the VIP area.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian calls, and Lan Wangji’s jaw clenches visibly, as though bracing himself for trouble. “You made it again this year!”

“Necessary for business,” Lan Wangji grounds out, gaze fixed on some point on the far wall.

“Right, right, racing isn’t your thing, blah blah, I know.” Wei Wuxian grins as Lan Wangji’s eyes dart to him, narrowing, before flicking away. “I just came by to ask if you wanted some chocolates from my fans,” he says, holding out a box with half its contents already emptied. “I’ve got so many today, I don’t know what to do with all of them.”

Again, Lan Wangji’s gaze snaps back, but his face turns hard this time, his eyes gone a shade paler. The temperature plunges, as if a cold wind has swept through the air between them. 

“Shameless,” he says.

Wei Wuxian lets out a laugh, loud and full, before he hears Jiang Cheng yell his name from the garage. “Looks like I’m needed elsewhere,” he tells Lan Wangji, teeth flashing in a wide smile. “Enjoy the race!” 

He’s just turning to leave, when he hears it—soft and smooth, like a whisper of silk.

“Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian’s pulse leaps, and he turns back to find Lan Wangji staring at him with a molten intensity that sends heat rising up his cheeks. 

“Drive safe,” Lan Wangji says, quietly.

Breathing deep, Wei Wuxian slows his thundering heart—god, if Lan Wangji were to put his mind into wooing a girl—before he tilts his head and winks, hair falling across his forehead. “I always do.”

Back at the garage, Jiang Cheng is waiting for him, arms crossed and leaning against his motorcycle. Purple and white, his superbike is almost as sleek as Wei Wuxian’s ride, a spot of sun on the circuit with its striking sheen of crimson red. The lettering of Lan Corporation shines an azure blue on the side of their bikes, glossy and elegant.

Jiang Cheng holds up a palm, eyes rolling, when Wei Wuxian offers the half-emptied box of chocolates. “Do you have to bother Lan Wangji every time you see him?” he says. “You realize his company sponsors our equipment? Without his backing, we’d have no bikes, and without bikes, we—”

“—wouldn’t be here, I get it.” Wei Wuxian claps Jiang Cheng on the back. “Don’t worry, Lan Zhan and I are best buds!”

Jiang Cheng’s stare is incredulous. “He hates your fucking guts.”

Wei Wuxian snorts. “I don’t think—”

“Racers, to your places!”

Swiftly, the crew descends on their motorcycles, hauls them up onto paddock stands. Calls of best of luck and don’t crash, bros ring out as the boys push their rides out of the garage and onto the tarmac. 

The crowd’s roar is lost in the rev of engines at the starting line. 

Blood pounding through his veins, Wei Wuxian tugs on his gloves as he approaches his bike amidst the noise. Steps on a pedal with one leg and swings the other over the seat. This is his favorite moment—relishing the fervor of the crowd, the rush of adrenaline, before it all dissolves into hyperfocus and a speeding blur of asphalt. He’s pulling on his helmet, glancing up at the VIP box, when his eyes pick out a familiar figure in a snow-white suit, back set in a straight line even on the hard metal seats. 

“Lan Zhan,” he shouts, waving his arms vigorously in the air. 

Behind him, Jiang Cheng makes a noise that sounds like a cat dislodging a hairball.

Wei Wuxian doesn’t know why he bothered, really. It’s not like he expects a response, not with his voice vanishing into the din around him, with Lan Wangji’s continued rejection of his gestures of friendship. 

(Although, his mind supplies, he did tell you to drive safe.)

And right then, as if in answer to his thoughts, Lan Wangji lifts a hand and tips it, once, to the side.

Yes, I couldn’t resist doing another rough translation…

LQR = Lan Qiren, WWX = Wei Wuxian, JC = Jiang Cheng, NHS = Nie Huaisang, LWJ = Lan Wangji

LQR: *lecturing*

WWX: *yawns* It’s so boring yet Lan Zhan can focus and listen so seriously. Really impressive.

JC: That you have to mention him once a day is also very dull; I’m also very impressed.

WWX: Psst, psst, psst! Hey! Huaisang-xiong, want to go to the back mountain after class?

This was a translation request elsewhere so I’m cross-posting it here. It’s from a post of MXTX on her Weibo. The scene is enacted in one of the audio drama extras ;)

Do all the members of the Gusu Lan Sect have a poor alcohol tolerance? Since Lan Er’s alcohol tolerance is so low, how is Lan Da’s [1]? Of course, things like the ability to drink alcohol and how one behaves when drunk are hereditary. If Zewu-Jun has a single cup, he will turn into a passionate young man brimming with excessive enthusiasm. Every sentence he speaks will sound like there are at least three exclamation marks. His tone also loses a bit of its usual gentle politeness. It becomes extremely sonorous and vigorous, rising and falling uninhibitedly. Uncle is astonished: “What happened to you, Xichen?!” “Uncle, I’m all right!! I’m fine!!!” “…” “Uncle, have you seen my Liebing? I can’t find it anywhere, how can this be!!!” “Haven’t you been holding it in your hand all along?!” “Really?! So this is what is called ‘not seeing the wood for the trees’!!” “…” “Thank you for your instruction, Uncle. Xichen has benefited a lot today!!” Uncle: “…" 😱 He is unable to watch anymore. He quickly lets Lan Er lock up his elder brother. But if the brothers are both drunk then it’s a disaster. Lan Da slaps Lan Er on the shoulder: ”Didi [2], don’t be depressed!!!“ Lan Er ignores him and crouches on the floor: ”…“ "Come on, let’s go down the mountain and get rid of the evil harming people!!!” “…flute…” “What?!” “… I want a flute…” What Lan Er wants is the person playing the flute. But it’s embarrassing to admit it to Gege so he just says he wants a flute for himself. In the end, their alcohol tolerance is not much different. Their behaviour when drunk is also about the same. This is the power of genes. 😘

Translator’s Notes

[1] ‘Da’ is short for dage (大哥) here which means ‘big brother’.