Lan Qiren stares down at the open filigree box. His nephew has always been a collector—of memories, of dried flowers from a mother’s garden, of rocks, and so on and so forth. He has always been a sentimental boy when you deigned to look beyond the surface. It is no surprise that Lan Zhan wishes to preserve all that he loves but Lan Qiren wishes that his nephew had not decided to collect pictures of another boy who is regrettably all too familiar.
Lan Qiren stares down at pictures of Cangse Sanren’s son and wants to die. He remembers when Lan Zhan used to refer to himself as Zhanzhan with his high pitched voice and his sweetly blank chubby face. Zhan’er is still a little boy in Lan Qiren’s heart and he does not enjoy the way the boy is maturing.
Lan Zhan has begun to resemble his father overly much so. The curse of all Lans. Wei Ying and his bloodline is a menace to humanity and to Lans. He remembers Cangse Sanren’s raucous laughter and her lack of boundaries. Her son has clearly seduced his nephew. Otherwise…
Why does Lan Zhan have a collection of photos of Wei Ying?
Upon hearing a barely audible footstep, Lan Qiren whirls around with damning evidence clutched in his hand. He stares at his youngest nephew who meets him with a blank gaze.
“Hello, Uncle,” Lan Zhan says primly. “Please put the photos back in my box.” He walks further into his room and slides off his backpack. He approaches Lan Qiren, who looms over his desk and collection of boxed photos.
Lan Qiren does not appreciate the utter disregard the boy treats him with. A certain heat consumes his face as his brows draw together. He opens his mouth and closes it when Lan Zhan sits down at his desk and begins to fiddle with…with framed images of Wei Ying! A shrine of photos! A shrine to some sort of demonic entity because surely that boy’s bloodline is sourced straight from the underworld.
“Lan Zhan!” Lan Qiren snaps.
Lan Zhan lifts his head to stare at his uncle.
“What is the meaning of this?” Lan Qiren demands as he waves the photo of a boy in swim shorts, almost identical to the central image of the Wei Ying shrine. The photo in Lan Qiren’s hand also has a cloud-embroidered ribbon painstakingly glued across the boy’s nipples. Thank the heavens that the ribbon is not one of Lan Zhan’s personal ribbons. Otherwise…No, it doesn’t bear thinking about.
“He’s my boyfriend from Yunmeng,” Lan Zhan says. The tone is almost defiant, imperceptible enough that Lan Qiren cannot address it.
“A boyfriend!” Lan Qiren thunders. “You’re too young for a boyfriend! Especially for this…this shameless hussy!” He waves the photo in his hand for emphasis.
Lan Zhan opens his mouth.
It better be repentance and a promise to break up with the demon.
“Uncle, please be careful with the photo…and he’s not a ‘shameless hussy’.”
“You! Shameless! Half-naked photos!”
“Uncle, please. It’s three-quarters.”
“Insolent boy!”
Lan Qiren attempts to rip the photo of the three-quarters naked boy but the ribbon at Wei Ying’s nipples hinders any further progress. Inarticulate with rage, he stares down at his nephew, who has the gall to sport the slightest of injured looks with his downturned mouth.
“You are no longer boyfriends with him! I am calling the Jiangs tonight and putting an end to this nonsense,” Lan Qiren says. He lets out a long gusty exhale at the end, reassured by his own plan.
“He’s my boyfriend,” Lan Zhan insists.
Clearly, Lan Qiren has been too lenient with the boy. Taking up with a shameless hussy! A shameless hussy who sends three-quarters naked photos to respectable young men. Zhan’er has been seduced!
“No boyfriends! You’re only 12!” Lan Qiren shouts.
“Uncle,” Lan Zhan says, as if emphasizing their family relation will quiet his anger, “I’m 17.”
Lan Qiren points an accusing finger at his nephew. Wordless with rage, he backs out of the room with his eyes focused on his recalcitrant nephew. He cannot bear to see the sight of this wayward nephew now.
Yu Ziyuan stares blankly at the thin package in her hands. Wei Ying, the recipient area reads with neat, refined writing. Lan Zhan, the sender area reads with the same writing. The sender is from Gusu and she begins to regret not arguing harder against Wei Ying’s inclusion in the family. The address is too familiar to her and the surname is also regrettably familiar. The first name is almost familiar, but not quite. The sender is most likely of the Cloud Recesses Lans—exorbitantly wealthy, philanthropic, and known for their excessive adherence to decorum.
EXPRESS and NEXT-DAY DELIVERY glare out at her. She has no idea why anybody would send Wei Ying overnight mail, considering the cost and considering that it’s Wei Ying, who is a menace. Alas, parenthood means dealing with your delinquent children, one of whom somehow bamboozled a sheltered Lan into sending overnight packages and another who aided and abetted the delinquent.
Yu Ziyuan takes a deep breath. Then she yells, “Wei Ying! Jiang Cheng!” Promptly, she hears thundering footsteps down the stairs.
When they appear in the hallway, A-Cheng looks smug, most likely because his name was not called first, and the delinquent looks cheery. She does not want to sigh at the sight of them—she wants to throttle them.
“Wei Ying,” she begins thunderously. She brandishes the package in the air. “What did you do?”
“It’s from my boyfriend in Gusu!” Wei Ying exclaims.
In horror, Yu Ziyuan watches heat suffuse Wei Ying’s cheeks. The boy looks uncharacteristically shy in his pleasure at the sight of the package. Then, she begins to register the words that have left the boy’s mouth. The delinquent is truly a delinquent…seducing a Lan. The fallout on the Lan side will be catastrophic because she now recalls that Lan Zhan is the youngest son in the main family—the main family with whom Lotus Pier Inc. is beginning negotiations with for a joint venture.
“Jiang Cheng, explain this,” Yu Ziyuan says. She stares her son down as she fiddles with her ring. Her fidgeting is no weakness and she watches her son’s eyes stare at her hand with a growing nervousness.
Wei Ying continues to dazedly stare at the package, visibly torn between lunging for the package and respecting his aunt.
“Why do I—” Jiang Cheng begins to protest. He stops at his mother’s glare.
“Explain,” Yu Ziyuan says. With the way Wei Ying is acting, she doubts the coherency of his answer and privately believes that even trying to listen to him would be an exercise in the prompt creation of a headache.
Cowed, Jiang Cheng explains.
Yu Ziyuan wants to pretend that she never heard the stupid explanation.
“He’s my boyfriend from Yunmeng,” Lan Zhan says with a blank face.
Lan Huan stares down at the collection of framed photos on his younger brother’s desk. He doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry. A-Zhan’s first boyfriend…and it’s the kid that got kicked out of summer camp years back and had teased Lan Zhan until they ended up fighting. A-Zhan’s first boyfriend…and it’s the result of an internet chat room encounter.
“…Congratulations,” Lan Huan eventually settles upon.
“Thank you,” Lan Zhan says stoically. He returns to rearranging his collection of photos in some precise order unknown to Lan Huan.
The collection of photos faintly reminds Lan Huan of a shrine. An almost excessive amount of pristine images secured in wooden frames decorate the desk. There’s even a loose red ribbon situated just so in front of the central image. The central image, of course, is a young man clad in only swimming shorts. Helpfully and possessively, Lan Zhan had draped another red ribbon around the framed picture to censor what would undoubtedly be Wei Ying’s nipples.
“You two exchanged a lot of pictures then?” Lan Huan decides to ask. He can only hope that Lan Zhan is not being catfished but considering the variation of photos displayed, it seems like it truly is Wei Ying.
“Yes,” Lan Zhan says. Contemplatively, he shifts one of the images away from Lan Huan’s view.
Lan Huan stares helplessly at his younger brother. He thinks he should ask A-Yao for some advice, well-known for corralling his half-brothers. On that thought, he slips out of his brother’s room with only a hum of acknowledgement from his brother.
“He’s my boyfriend from Gusu!” Wei Ying exclaims. He clutches the printed image of a mournful young man to his chest.
Jiang Cheng stares at Wei Ying. “You’re being catfished. I’m pretty sure mom told you specifically about the dangers of the internet.”
Wei Ying frowns. “Wait…do you mean youdidn’t get the internet safety talk?”
“No, because I have something called self-preservation,” Jiang Cheng says. Admittedly, he had even thought the internet safety talk was excessive. Wei Ying couldn’t be that dumb and he had been privately insulted on behalf of his brother. But the truth is is that Wei Ying wants to believe in the best of people–of a just world–and acts accordingly. It isn’t naivete but more of an attempt to out-stubborn the evils of the world.
Wei Ying pouts. He stares down at his printout. “But we sent pictures with our emails!”
“You’re an idiot,” Jiang Cheng says flatly. “It’s probably a pedophile collecting pictures.”
“Excuse you,” Wei Ying huffs, “he’d have to be an ephebophile. And anyways, it doesn’t explain his pictures!”
Jiang Cheng snatches the printout out of Wei Ying’s arms.
Wei Ying clutches at his chest like a scandalized maiden and opens his mouth for a scolding and a warning to take care of the picture.
“You idiot! It’s Lan Zhan!” Jiang Cheng waves the picture for emphasis.
Wei Ying looks at Jiang Cheng, as if he is mentally deficient.
It’s Wei Ying who’s mentally deficient. Because…
“You met him at summer camp! The one you got kicked out of! Like 5 years ago. And he hated you! Don’t you remember?!” Jiang Cheng shouts.
“Huh…I guess that’s why his name seemed familiar,” Wei Ying concedes. His mental image of summer camp Lan Zhan does not match the image of internet boyfriend Lan Zhan.
These are amazingly ridiculous. I can’t believe I didn’t notice them in-game. Commentary and art by Zack Rock:
Doing things a bit differently this Drewsday. Since I totally dropped the ball last week, and since this week’s Drewsday is a full day late, I’ve decided to post SEVENproducts for you - seven magical magazines no self-respecting convenience store owner can hope to succeed without.
The catch is, none of these actually feature any illustrations by me - just Photoshop work. They do, however, prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that I’ve missed my calling as a magazine pitchman.
A series of portraits of all of the explosions from Mob Psycho 100 inspired by both the anime and manga panels. Finally finished after almost a year since making the first one *high-fives myself* TTvTT
