When Shadows Meet The Lights

Chapter 1

Cool ocean breezes blew across the boardwalk and Lan Xichen took a deep breath. The salty tang on the wind coated his lungs and he felt some of his frustrations dissipate. It was unlike him to step out of the office midday like this, but the sky outside his windows was too blue. It seemed a shame to waste such a day.

His brogues tapped along the uneven wood and he enjoyed the sound. Leaving the office without telling anyone where he was going was probably not his wisest decision. Lan Wangji would be unhappy to learn that he had left with no bodyguards, either, but there was little point in getting some air if he was surrounded by people.

It was noon on a weekday, so the boardwalk was scarcely populated. Lan Xichen was able to maintain his leisurely stroll without stopping. His hands were resting in the pockets of his expensive pants that matched the rest of his suit. Truthfully, he didn't know the brand. His housekeeper usually set out whatever clothes he would wear that day. He couldn't be fussed about things like labels and matching fabrics. That same housekeeper kept lamenting about the length of his hair, but he couldn't be bothered to get it cut either. The shaggy black locks hung down the nape of his neck and accentuated his pale skin in a way he found pleasing when he deigned to glance in the mirror.

Despite being raised to care about appearances, he found the entire process of shopping and picking out clothes to be tedious. It was easier to hire someone to do it for him. When asked, he truthfully told people he did not know what brand he is wearing that day. His brain was filled with expense reports, HR regulations, and other clerical work that came with running a massive fortune 500 company.

His days were usually filled with meetings that could have been an email, and emails that could have been solved with a google search.

But he knew what he signed up for when he took over the company from his aging uncle. He didn't really want to run the company, but if he didn't then the responsibility would fall to his younger brother. Lan Wangji would do an excellent job, of that there was no doubt. But his passions lie elsewhere, and while he would never say anything about it, Lan Xichen couldn't bear to take that from him.

So here he was. Taking an afternoon stroll as a small form of rebellion. A way to remind himself that he was still capable of stepping out of line. No matter how small an infraction.
Up ahead he could see a small crowd gathered around the railing of the boardwalk. At first he thought some lucky fisherman had caught something in the rough waters below, but upon closer look he could see it was a young painter.

A canvas was propped up on an easel that was held together with duct tape and prayers. It faced the ocean and Lan Xichen could see broad strokes in a myriad of blues across the bottom half of the black canvas.

He couldn't be sure why he stopped, he was far from an art aficionado, but something drew his attention.

There was something in the broad strokes that made Lan Xichen look a little closer. Clearly the artist had just begun the work, but already a shape was taking place. There was nothing definite but the way the ocean waves were mixed gave Lan Xichen the impression of drowning. In the infinite oceans, the feeling of claustrophobia began to choke him. The way the waves were spinning together in a maelstrom of deep blues and purple was at times intoxicating but at other times deafening.

Lan Xichen dragged his eyes away from the painting itself to the artist. He was a young man, which surprised Lan Xichen. He expected a grizzled old man of many years. Someone who had the experience to put such pain into his work. But no, this artist couldn't be more than 25. His violet colored hair was pulled up into a bun on his head. Thick braids were twined through the strands in a messy way that should not have looked as put together as it did. Thick bangs framed a thin face, brushing against an angular jawline as his eyes narrowed at the paining. The artist was scowling at the canvas as if he was angry at it. His brush strokes were hard too, like he was personally attacking the paint and the paintbrush was his weapon.

Several of the on lookers grew bored and moved off but Lan Xichen was frozen. He couldn't take his eyes off the artist. Despite the warm day he was wearing an oversized hoodie with the sleeves ripped off. It swallowed his thin frame, a complete opposite to the sinfully tight skinny jeans that hugged his hips. The young man was devoid of jewelry except for a thick silver right on his right index finger. Rather than jewelry, his forearm was decorated with an intricate looking lotus in dark ink. It spiraled and twisted around itself in delicate patterns that should have looked feminine but looked anything but on his muscled arm.

A sad ratty looking tote bag was slouched on the ground by the easel. Art supplies could be seen resting inside. Everything was covered in flecks of paint, including the artist.
Lan Xichen stood there so long, that he was the only one remaining.

Finally, the artist glanced over at him through the fringes of his hair. "You must have nothing better to do."

Lan Xichen chuckled. "I have too much to do."

The artist cocked his head and flicked a gaze up and down Lan Xichen once before returning to his work. His eyelashes were long and dark, framing eyes that were impossibly dark. A dot of blue paint was smudged on his right eyebrow and Lan Xichen felt an absurd need to wipe it off.

"Do you take commissions?" Lan Xichen asked after a moment.

The artist snorted. "Dude, for $50 I'll paint you whatever you want." He paused with his paintbrush halfway to the canvas. The head of the brush was so used that it splayed out like a
pinecone. "Certain things will cost you extra, though."

"Like what?" Lan Xichen asked with a small hint of amusement.

Dark eyes narrowed at him as the artist sized him up. "If whatever you want to paint is going to traumatize me then I'll need to be fairly compensated." he turned back to his work. "It's always the normal looking ones..." he muttered.

Lan Xichen laughed and could only imagine the strange things he was asked to paint. To be honest, he didn't know exactly what he wanted painted but he suddenly felt the urge to own a painting by this enigmatic artist.

A couple more people drifted by and he saw the artists gaze flick beyond his shoulder briefly before returning. "So? What do you want? Furry porn?"

"Nothing so exciting, I'm afraid." Lan Xichen assured him. "I'll take that one, whenever you finish." He gestured to the work in progress leaning on the dilapidated easel.

The artist shrugged. "Suit yourself."

"Oh." Lan Xichen said with an amiable smile. "You can tell your young friend that I don't carry cash on me. So, stealing my wallet won't do you any good."

The young man behind Lan Xichen was good. His fingers were light, and had Lan Xichen been anyone else, it might have worked. But as it was he could see the flash of dark leather disappearing into his pocket and he gently held out his hand.

"I'm quite fond of that wallet." he insisted, a smile still on his face.

Bright grey eyes stared at him in shock. The boy looked to be a bit younger than the artist. His long dark hair was pulled up into a high ponytail secured by a bright red ribbon. He was a handsome slip of a boy, with quick fingers. Rather than look sheepish, the boy's face broke out into a radiant smile as he placed the wallet into Lan Xichen's outstretched hand.

This boy was wearing a crop top and jeans with holes in the knee so large that they might have been considered shorts—only a final few valiant strings was holding up the bottoms of the jeans. Slim pale legs flashed in the fabric as the boy held up a peace sign and cocked his head.

"Whoopsie!" he giggled, before turning to dash down the boardwalk.

Lan Xichen had no intentions of following him, instead turning back to the artist.

The purple haired boy was also streaking down the wooden pier, in the opposite direction. With a dexterity that Lan Xichen couldn't believe, he hoisted himself over the railing and landed on the beach below with a tumble. He took off again and disappeared into the thin crowds.

Lan Xichen's lips curled up into a smile and he shook his head. Two young grifters on a boardwalk. He supposed he might be a strange person because he found their attempt rather adorable. Stooping low, he collected the artists supplies. There was a faded name scribbled onto the top of the worn tote bag.

"Jiang Cheng." Lan Xichen said the name. He liked how it rolled off his lips and tasted in his mouth. He glanced at the sand where the boy had landed in a heap of limbs and for the first time in a long time, he wasn't thinking about taxes at the end of a fiscal year or stock market prices.