The shop does not open on Sundays.

It quickly becomes a relief after working for six days nonstop, and Lan Zhan is glad that Wei Ying insisted on this rule from the get-go, since he himself was inclined to feel guilty about not working all the hours available. His Uncle Qiren had thoroughly ingrained a good work ethic in him and his brother, and now he was trying not to feel guilty for taking some time to rest.

Lan Zhan has already had breakfast and is just putting away the dishes when his phone rings.

It's Uncle Four.

"Good morning, A-Zhan. We were wondering-" There's a lot of noise in the background, and another voice insists in hushed tones, "Go on, ask him!" And Uncle Four clears his throat rather pointedly, while the second voice apologises, and then Uncle Four continues, "Would you like to join us this morning? We're taking A-Yuan to the temple."

"Temple?" Lan Zhan asks tentatively. He's not super religious. It's more of a deep level of respect from afar, so he wants to know more. He's not naive - he's heard of cults before.

"Yes, there's a nice one in Ealing, and we're all going, so A-Ying thought you might want to join us. You can look it up," and he gives Lan Zhan the address so he can Google it.

Lan Zhan uses his own laptop, which is already open and updated, unlike his mother's one lying next to it, and takes a look. It really is an authentic looking Buddhist temple, all shiny and red and terribly nostalgic for him, a slice of home in this foreign country.

"Yes, thank you. I would like to join you," he murmurs, and there's a huge whoop not from Uncle Four in the background.

"We'll be leaving in about twenty minutes," Uncle Four says and ends the call.

Lan Zhan had been about to spend the day catching up on his other business, and maybe facetime with MianMian to discuss their latest acquisitions...but he can do that later.

Staring at the picture of the temple, Lan Zhan thinks there's something familiar about it, but for the life of him, he cannot recall what it might be. And there's no time to find out, either, because he must freshen up and get ready. In twenty minutes' time, he's going to see Wei Ying on a day he thought he wouldn't, and that requires a change of clothes.

Usually, Lan Zhan doesn't really care what he wears; but that philosophical attitude has evaporated in these last few weeks. So it's a real challenge to pick something out of his closet that is not strictly speaking, home wear. No lounge suits, no comfy linens, and no soft t-shirts, even if it's already quite warm outside. He must dress respectfully given that the location of today involves a temple, so it's definitely a smart-chic casual vibe he's aiming for.

In the end, he opts for a white button-down long sleeve shirt with beige trousers already pressed on the hanger.

He's just locking up when a horn sounds behind him, and he turns to find a white minivan waiting for him, and around twenty curious faces looking back at him, all smiling and waving.

Initially, Lan Zhan thought the 'we' in Uncle Four's invitation meant him, A-Yuan and of course, Wei Ying, the person behind the enthusiastic responses in the background, but he had no idea that many of them were going.

"Plenty of room in the back," yells Wei Ying, and Lan Zhan has to swallow down his embarrassment and climb on board.

Uncle Four smiles welcomingly at him, and he waits in the driver's seat until Lan Zhan reaches his seat at the back as Wei Ying promised, with A-Yuan seat belted in between them. He's had to greet all the aunties and uncles on his way back here, and two faces are notably absent.

"Where's Wen Qing and Wen Ning?" He murmurs as A-Yuan whispers conspiringly, "Dwagon! Shhh!" And looks around theatrically.

"They're following on behind, with the tools." Wei Ying jerks a thumb behind them, and through the grainy glass of the rear window, Lan Zhan peers down at Wen Ning driving Uncle Four's trusty van with Wen Qing scowling back at him.

Wen Ning, a sweet chap, gives them a little wave.

Lan Zhan waves back because A-Yuan tells him to.

"Tools?" He asks because the description sounds cryptic.

"You'll see," Wei Ying smiles enigmatically.

And then they're off.

*************

The GuanYin Temple is a large complex, bright, and colourful, with prayer drums lining both sides of the wide path leading up to the impressive stairs climbing up towards the gilded doors. Huge round columns hold up the vast sloping roof, and the names written on carved wood are both in Chinese and English, inlaid with gold paint.

Flower garlands are wrapped around every available surface, white, yellow, and orange, to enhance this already stunning view and architecture. Maroon and ochre robed Buddhist monks hand out alms and offerings blessed by the inhabitants of the temple to worshippers leaving after having gone inside to visit with them, and despite the cheery atmosphere, there's a niggling feeling at the back of Lan Zhan's mind that he just can't shake.

There's something about this place, not just a feeling but something even more important, something tangible that he's missing, and it's incredibly frustrating to Lan Zhan, like recalling the name of a place that rests on the tip of his tongue and yet eludes him. The feeling grows as he climbs the steps with Wei Ying with A-Yuan between them holding their hands, who has been chattering all throughout the bus ride there, and his musical babbling continues until they walk through the golden doors intricately carved with depictions of the Buddha's life.

But from the moment they enter, A-Yuan quietens down immediately, looking around in awe.

There is a deep silence around them, apart from the hushed chants from the rows of monks sitting along the sides facing the huge golden statue of GuanYin, the Buddha of compassion. The walls are decorated with thousands of smaller Buddha statues, the many avatars of himself, and each one is different and unique. There's a small plaque underneath each one, with their name and a few lines of their stories carved upon them. Each one has a diwa, a tiny light fueled by ghee, flickering with the slightest movement, and yet Lan Zhan has never felt so peaceful before.

He follows behind the aunties and uncles as they walk to the front and bow before the statue, and follows their lead of lighting the incense sticks and planting them in the ashes of their predecessors in the vast urns of beige fragrant powder.

They sit for a while on the sides, absorbing the atmosphere and the tranquillity freely enveloping them as they listen to the quiet chanting. Even A-Yuan is calm, instinctively knowing that he must be quiet in this place.

When they rise to leave, Lan Zhan is surprised that almost an hour has passed by. They receive offerings from the monks, and Lan Zhan fully expects them to leave because they've done everything they are supposed to do on a visit to the temple, but they don't.

Wen Ning and Wen Qing meet them at the gates on the side of the main temple, armed with trowels and brooms and pickers, the implements used by those who cannot bend to pick something up from the ground. Wei Ying grabs a few garbage bags and hangs back as the Wen Siblings take A-Yuan ahead towards another gate.

They are visiting the graveyard.

Sharp realisation slams into Lan Zhan as he stumbles upon seeing the sign above the simple wooden gate. He's seen that sign before. He knows it. And no wonder he couldn't shake the initial familiarity of this place because although this is his first time visiting it in person, he's seen pictures of the temple. Especially that particular sign.

He wasn't able to visit for his mother's funeral at the time, but this is where she's buried. Her ashes after she was cremated, to be exact.

"Lan Zhan??!!" Wei Ying is by his side in a heartbeat, grabbing his arm and steadying him as Lan Zhan comes to terms with this new discovery. "Are you alright? What's the matter?" He asks urgently.

"Mama..." Lan Zhan doesn't need to say anything more as Wei Ying takes him to the nearby wooden bench to sit down for a few minutes.

"Listen, you don't have to go in there," Wei Ying says quietly but fiercely. "We usually come every few weeks and visit the temple, and then afterwards help clean up inside," his chin points towards the resting place of hundreds of people who have passed away. "I'm sorry," he adds desperately, shaking his head to himself. "I should have known that this is where Mama Lan was buried - it never occurred to me. I just thought to myself, what's Lan Zhan going to do all by himself on a Sunday except get bored, why don't we invite him to come here and he'll see that we have still managed to preserve our culture even if we've cut ties with the motherland. I never imagined-"

"Wei Ying." Lan Zhan has to interrupt. Not that it isn't nice listening to Wei Ying's rich voice as he talks, but Lan Zhan isn't a fan of him beating himself up about something out of his control. "It is not your fault. And I must admit, I should have come here first. To pay my respects. It's just that I was not prepared. It was a shock, that's all." He reaches over to entwine their fingers together.

It's a warmth that is welcoming given that Lan Zhan's hands are suddenly very cold.

He stands up and pulls Wei Ying up with him, looking around.

"There must be someone we can ask who will know where she is," Lan Zhan says with renewed determination.

"There is," Wei Ying agrees, fully wanting to help him.

****************

They find Wen Popo deep within the gardens, sitting under a cherry blossom tree and murmuring quietly, her gaze concentrating on two wooden plaques engraved with the names of her children.

"A-Yuan is the best boy," she says, wiping her eyes and courageously continuing. "He makes friends easily and charms all who come near him. You should be proud of him, and rest assured that he's being well looked after." When she notices Wei Ying and Lan Zhan hanging back, respectfully waiting for her to finish, she beckons them to come forward and sit on the bench next to her.

All she has to do is smile quietly, and Wei Ying spills his guts, telling her why they've sought her out.

"What is her name?" She asks softly.

"Lan Meihua, though she dropped the Lan for her maiden name, I believe, after she left Suzhou. Gao Meihua," Lan Zhan replies.

All of this feels like a dream, like walking through a thick fog that blanks out everything else.

"Use the East path and walk towards the field of wildflowers. There's a lone oak tree under which her plaque lies, though it's a little early for the gentians to bloom. But you might be lucky." She winks and waves them away.

This cemetery is different from the western graveyards Lan Zhan has driven past on occasion. His experience has consisted of uniform plots of land with aesthetically pleasing placards stating the birth date and death date, impersonal and concise, perhaps with an added note of the person's title or role within their family.

Older graveyards were nicer, romantic, and quirky in a gothic way, with individual and unique gravestones bearing interesting messages that led one to ponder upon the lives of the persons who had passed away.

But this last resting place of beloved souls spoke of appreciation, a celebration of their lives lived well, and a hope towards them reaching some kind of peace in the afterlife.

As Wei Ying and he walk onwards, following Wen Popo's directions, with Wei Ying's hand clutched tightly in his, Lan Zhan looks around with new eyes, feeling the care and consideration that must have gone into each last resting place, choosing every one after careful thought and scrutiny to fit the person who would be residing there.

They pass a few family plots of graves with the same names all in one place, others scattered with obvious intent under the shadow of a huge boulder or overlooking a hill; under particular trees favoured by the deceased, or surrounded by seasonal flowers coming to bloom. As they leave the most common grounds being cleaned by various volunteers, their path continues further away until Wei Ying points out the lone oak tree thriving in a field of wildflowers.

The length of the walk calmed Lan Zhan's agitation, the fear that he might not be ready to face one of the most important people in his life. Part of that is the guilt that won't go away, the doubts that suggest perhaps he hadn't tried hard enough to come back and see his mother while she was alive.

But it is no use beating himself up like this. For good or bad, he is here now, and regardless of whether he feels ready or not, it is time to see his mother.

As they get closer, Wei Ying squeezes their joint hands together, unconsciously giving him much needed strength and support, and then suddenly, he gasps.

"Look, Lan Zhan!" he exclaims, and Lan Zhan follows the line of his gaze where he's pointing.

There, underneath the simple monument, a tablet with Lan Zhan's mother's name engraved upon it, a single blue gentian flower lifts its delicate head, the first of its kind this year. Nodding his way, almost as if it were waiting here for him, calling out to him that he is welcome, no matter what his own opinion might be.

They continue forward at the same pace, except now, Lan Zhan's feet feel weighed down as if his shoes are made out of lead. He is both eager to reach her and terrified of what he will find, and both feelings are equally unbearable.

Wei Ying leads him to sit down in front of her memorial, following him down to kneel next to Lan Zhan. He says nothing, simply letting the warm breeze caress their faces as Lan Zhan stares at the lone flower.

The moment is bittersweet.

When his mother's name blurs, when he can no longer make out the individual characters of her identity, Lan Zhan closes his eyes. He lets himself absorb the feelings, the whole experience from the gentle fragrance sweetening the air around them, to feeling the soft breath of the wind kissing his wet cheeks, and Lan Zhan lets himself remember her.

His free hand drifts past the wild grasses too close to the roots of the tree to be trimmed, this connection to the earth acting like a conduit between himself and his mother, as if he can truly hear her voice again.

"ZhanZhan...what are you doing here?" she asks him, the words hanging in the air all fragile like dewdrops on a silken web.

A moment later, and they're gone, as if they had never been.

"I don't know," Lan Zhan hears himself whisper.

There's a tinkling laugh that brushes like a breeze through water weeds, a hushed sound enveloping them.

"All I ever want is for you to be happy..." the voice gusts over them.

Is he? Lan Zhan is shocked that he doesn't know the answer.

What is happiness?

Is it fleeting like a cloud, impermanent and unreliable, or like catching water through his fingertips?

It feels like Lan Zhan has been unconsciously reaching out towards this imaginary concept all of his life, chasing after it as if it were a wayward, drunken butterfly sated by the magic of tasting the nectar of blooming buds.

"I don't know if I am," he admits.

The thought is crushing. If the only thing his mother wanted was that, then it feels as if Lan Zhan has failed somehow. Such an elusive thing, this thing called happiness. Like moonlit shadows hiding from the stars, Lan Zhan has never been able to touch any one thing and claim that this was it, the thing that made him happy.

Is it even possible that his happiness could be attributed to a materialistic endeavour? Is he really that shallow?

He certainly lacks for nothing, and his lifestyle can skim the surface of existing on the right side of being rich. He could buy anything if he wants to, and yet he is content.

So not money, then, because that quality feels like a parallel to his life, in that it exists but it's not affecting his state of mind. Yes, whatever wealth he has makes a difference to his day-to-day living, but these are additions that wouldn't change his mental state if they were not around.

"ZhanZhan, ah, sweet ZhanZhan..." the voice laughs quietly, "You don't need to figure it out straight away. The answer will come when you're ready. Go away and don't come back until you know. You have the freedom of choice, so use it well."

Wei Ying pulls him up and then they're walking slowly back to the entrance.

Lan Zhan takes a momentary awareness of his surroundings, snapshots of understanding, but he does not engage because it feels like that would take too much effort from him. He trusts Wei Ying to look after him, since he feels incapable of doing anything for himself.

He notices the people who wave at them, or more specifically, at Wei Ying, as they pass by, and yet Lan Zhan feels like a zombie trudging through the air and feeling the maximum resistance in the atmosphere. It's like wading through a swimming pool full of custard, letting the strange coldness cover his skin like an extra unwanted blanket.

The sun is hot on his neck and his back, and then there's the weird relief again and Lan Zhan startles because suddenly, they're back inside the minivan, so much darker than outside and sitting at the back again. Wei Ying hasn't said anything, and Lan Zhan is too grateful to him for letting him have the window seat; he lists towards the support of it, the glass cool against his temple as he closes his eyes.

He remembers the odd quietness, and then seeing A-Yuan passed out in Wen Ning's arms, and people trying not to stare at him as Wei Ying leads him out of the vehicle. Even thinking is exhausting.

Oh.

They are at home now.

Sitting on the couch, Lan Zhan is aware that Wei Ying keeps shooting him desperate glances full of worry, and yet he can't make himself snap out of whatever this is. He can't even lift his hands, just too lethargic to move on his own. He leans back and is immediately assaulted by the relief of not keeping his back straight, of holding his posture and staying upright. He closes his eyes and lets everything go.

**************

Lan Zhan drifts in and out of consciousness, riding that wave just because he can.

If he cannot identify his possession of happiness, this at least, he understands. It is peaceful. Just lying here and letting the dreams come and go, letting his mind rest.

Voices a little further away wake him from the bliss of sleeping and he listens without wanting to, words sneaking past his conscious brain.

"Nah, I think something's really wrong with him."

"I think I've broken Lan Zhan...."

There's a pause.

"You really think so? What if he's still sleeping?"

"Yeah, rest is good. He says he usually gets up at five."

A giggle, though it sounds nervous.

"Alright, put him on...hi, good morning, A-Yuan! Did you have breakfast?"

"Ahuh, ahuh...."

Muffled words now, and as Lan Zhan sits up and looks around, he wonders how he got in bed. And then he looks down at himself and his ears heat up. He's wearing pyjamas, most specifically, the ones he saves for winter because they're made from good quality winceyette, worn soft through numerous washes over the years. Lan Zhan only ever wears them when he's extra cold, or he needs comfort. They were the last ever present he received from his mother.

He has no recollection whatsoever of changing into them.

Did Wei Ying change his clothes for him?

His gut clenches at the thought...and it's not unpleasant.

He's throwing back the covers and just about to leave his bed when Wei Ying enters, shoving the door aside. For a few seconds, they just stare at each other, wide-eyed and startled, shocked into surprise.

Wei Ying is wearing his clothes. Lan Zhan's clothes. Lan Zhan's sweatpants which are too long for him, and he's obviously tried to roll up the trouser legs, and yet one has unrolled completely, a puddle of jersey hiding his toes. And Lan Zhan's favourite white t-shirt, an indulgence that he's never had the heart to wear because the bunny on the front was too cute with tiny little red love hearts around its head.

Wei Ying breaks the silence first, looking down at himself in bashful embarrassment.

"Ahaha...I hope you don't mind...I kind of stayed over. Had to borrow some clothes to sleep," he says awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck while a rosy blush sneaks across his face.

He looks utterly divine, this first glimpse of Wei Ying in the morning.

"I do not mind," Lan Zhan says hoarsely, needing to clear his throat a few times.

He likes this, he realises, as the seconds pass.

"I'll throw these in the wash-"

"NO!" Lan Zhan stumbles out of bed and somehow tangles his feet in his blanket and prepares to face plant on the floor, but instead, gentle hands grip his upper arms to steady him. He's never washing those clothes, he thinks distantly, looking into bright silver worried eyes.

"How are you feeling?" Wei Ying asks him, finally letting him go.

Lan Zhan feels the loss of his warmth acutely.

"Ask me after breakfast," he says, glancing at his alarm clock.

It's just past nine in the morning.

"I need to go home and shower-"

"Wei Ying can shower here," Lan Zhan says fiercely, not knowing where this heated possessive feeling is coming from. All he knows is that he likes seeing a flustered Wei Ying, and knowing very few people ever see him like this makes it even more precious.

"But my clothes-"

"Wei Ying can borrow more. I'm sure we can find something."

"But Lan Zhan-"

"Unless...Wei Ying does not wish to stay?" The thought is like an ice bath to his face. What if Wei Ying WANTS to leave?

"Um...it's not that." Wei Ying looks away, and Lan Zhan doesn't like that at all.

"Then what is it?"

"Well. It's just that I know you're a private person and I've already taken advantage of-" he waves a hand up and down the length of Lan Zhan's body.

Lan Zhan grabs his wrist in the air. "Wei Ying."

"Hm?"

"Don't make this weird. I'm going to go for my shower. Please stay." Lan Zhan stares deeply into shimmering silver eyes, mesmerising and just as beautifully charming as the first time he ever saw him.

Wei Ying lets out a ragged breath and nods silently.

***************

Lan Zhan has never showered so fast in his life, but the fear still grips him that when he leaves the bathroom, Wei Ying will have disappeared. It spurs him on to move through his usual efficient routine that much faster, anticipation curling in his gut like a restless snake.

He dresses quickly, not paying attention to what comes off the hanger and throwing it on as if it doesn't matter. But he chooses the set of clothes for Wei Ying with much more care, a secret thrill flashing through him at the knowledge that today, Wei Ying will either wear Lan Zhan's underwear, or go commando.

The darkest things he has is a navy blue button down shirt with short sleeves and a white bunny embroidered on the top pocket, along with a pair of dark grey slacks and he even finds a belt, since Wei Ying's waist is much slimmer than his own.

He goes back to the kitchen with the pile of clothes and a fresh towel, and his shoulders sink with relief as Wei Ying slips off the breakfast bar stool, tripping up off the longer legs of his pyjamas.

"Wei Ying, may I hug you?" Lan Zhan finds himself asking.

Wei Ying is already nodding as his arms come around him. They both let out a breath of relief.

"Lan Zhan...tell me, are you alright?" Wei Ying asks him, leaning back to stare into his eyes.

"After breakfast. Go shower," Lan Zhan orders him, resisting the urge to slap his cute bottom.

"Urrgh! You're like some crappy author with a shedload of cliffhangers!" Wei Ying grumbles, as he stomps off, but he's smiling. Then he takes a good look at the clothes in his arms and turns his head slyly. "Not your usual fare, huh?"

"My brother gifted those to me, though I suspect they were gifted to him first." In truth, Lan Zhan had been hoping to leave them here in the UK before he had to go back home, conveniently "forgetting" them, since his preference in clothes was quite the opposite, but letting Wei Ying have them is even better.

"Ah, I see! Petty brotherly love, then!" Wei Ying giggles. "You should totally get him back for foisting them on you, but I must admit, they're really nice. I shall have to tell your brother a big thank you. I wonder what you'd look like in dark clothes..." he muses, sauntering away.

Lan Zhan, definitely not letting himself think about those last words, calculates the minutes it will take for Wei Ying to finish up in the bathroom, and decides that it's just enough time to whip up a few scallion pancakes and make a quick stir-fry for their meal. He hums to himself as he works, his fingers doing everything automatically as Lan Zhan meditates through each part of the cooking process. He brings his mind back every time it wanders until it no longer makes a dash for it, and by the time Wei Ying leaves the bathroom towelling his long hair dry, Lan Zhan is plating up their food and pouring out freshly brewed tea.

"Wow...I could get used to this," Wei Ying exclaims, sitting across from him.

"Mn." Lan Zhan feels the stabbing want of it right down to the marrow of his bones.

Wei Ying eyes him all through the silent meal, aware that Lan Zhan will not speak if he can help it. There's a pot of boiling anticipation simmering between them now, a building climatic tension that only keeps growing.

Finally Wei Ying puts his chopsticks down after inhaling his food, rubbing his flat belly with satisfaction. He twitches periodically, waiting for Lan Zhan to do the same.

Lan Zhan uses the opportunity of chewing every mouthful thoroughly and organising his thoughts properly, finding it extremely amusing that by doing so, Wei Ying's patience is visibly wearing thinner and thinner with every minute that passes by.

He can see Wei Ying's fingers clutching the edge of the granite breakfast bar, joints almost white with the fierceness of his grip, and he's momentarily regretful of making him wait.

When he pushes his own plate away, Wei Ying's eyes lose their tightness and he smiles tentatively, relaxing his high shoulders.

"Wei Ying, thank you for looking after me yesterday." It's a good beginning, Lan Zhan thinks but it switches to alarm because as soon as Wei Ying registers what he's said, his forehead thunks onto the hard surface.

"Lan Zhaaaaan!" He wails, "I TOLD you, none of that! You really had me worried, you know!" He looks up mournfully, and there's now a red patch of skin above his eyes.

Lan Zhan reaches across their empty dishes and rubs at it with his thumb, hoping to ease away the pain. He frowns silently and Wei Ying chuckles self consciously.

"Anyway, tell me, are you really okay?" He carries on as Lan Zhan withdraws his hand.

"Yes, I am now," Lan Zhan replies truthfully, after thinking about it.

"What happened to you? I asked Wen Qing about it, and she said it's called disassociation." He still looks worried.

"Mn. That is an apt name. I was with you, but I wasn't, if that makes sense." Lan Zhan goes back to thinking about yesterday. "I am not sure how I slipped into that, but when we were sitting in front of my mother's tablet, it felt as if she was there." His gaze lifts up to look at Wei Ying, unsure about what he will see on his face.

"Wow...but like, that's honestly quite possible," Wei Ying murmurs, rubbing at his own nose.

"You believe in ghosts?" Lan Zhan asks him, sceptically.

"And you don't?" Wei Ying raises a brow.

"Oh, let me clarify. My disbelief is not towards ghosts in general, but that you would believe in them." Lan Zhan winks at him to water down the impact.

"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan," Wei Ying shakes his head while tutting. "It's not that I don't believe in them...or maybe it's better to say that I don't not believe in them," he snickers. "There's this whole other world that isn't visible to the naked eye - of course I'm going to believe in that shit. And would you believe it, it was my chemistry teacher that got me started thinking about the hidden world."

"Chemistry teacher? A scientist?"

"Right? Right??" Wei Ying slouches back against his stool rest. "I can remember that moment like it was yesterday. It was too hot for indoor classes and back then, we didn't have air conditioning installed so we were taken outside to the playground. Our teacher pulls out a prism and lets the sun shine on it. We saw so many rainbows that afternoon, but he proved that on either side of the seven odd colours that WERE visible, there were X-rays on one side and gamma rays on the other, and I couldn't help thinking it was soooo cool! Indirectly, that got me watching Ghost Hunters, but that's by the by. My point is, just cos you can't see them, doesn't mean they're not there. Anyway, what did she say?"

"She asked me if I was happy."

Wei Ying leans forward. "And what did you say?"

"That I don't know." Lan Zhan can't look at him then. He doesn't want to see disappointment on Wei Ying's face about his answer, though he suspects Wei Ying wouldn't feel that way.

"Well, like I said before, hardly anyone has their shit together these days. I don't blame you. And I'm glad you were honest." He shivers slightly. "It wouldn't do to lie to a ghost, even if she was your mother. Did she say anything else?"

"Mn. She told me not to go back until I figured it out."

"Oh, I don't agree with that!" Wei Ying cackles. "How's she gonna stop you if you wanted to? In fact, you should totally be a rebel and keep going to see her."

"And say what?" Lan Zhan doesn't mean to sound snarky but it is what it is.

Wei Ying shrugs. "I dunno, but if I was you, I'd start off telling her about your life, all the parts she missed. Then I'd go on to tell her about your day, stuff she might find funny, or be on your side about, you know, things you can tell a parent about."

"Why?" Lan Zhan is a little flabbergasted.

"So she can get to know you better."

"She already knows me." Lan Zhan stands up and begins to clear away the breakfast bar.

Wei Ying jumps up to help him. "Yeah, she USED to know you...but people change. I think it would be therapeutic to do it. And who knows, you might find out something you didn't know about yourself. You should definitely try it, just to annoy her if nothing else."

"I thought you said not to get on her wrong side?" Lan Zhan demands, rolling up his sleeves and putting on his yellow plastic gloves to wash up.

Wei Ying is staring at his arms without blinking when he stirs. "Uh, uh, I said not to lie to ghosts. Irritating them is on a whole other level."

"I'll see." It's not a promise, Lan Zhan thinks...but it's not not a promise, either.