#ig shen wei is the one reincarnating and forgetting him oof oof

[sanctissimx]

remember me + weilan... roleswap? hehe

meme.

Leave a “Remember Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character trying to get yours to remember them [be it from an accident, meeting them after years apart, feel free to specify.]

@yishuns

He liked the quiet afternoons sat with the begrudging professor, who took the time Zhao Yunlan had intended for them to get to know each other to instead grade papers in a terse silence. Shen Wei had refused to come over to his place, and had similarly refused to let him over, so outside venues were really the only choices they had. Unfortunately for Shen Wei, Zhao Yunlan was too much of a flirt not to literally talk his way into getting temporarily but embarassingly banned from the university library. But most fortunately for Zhao Yunlan, that just meant more proper dates to take the reticent professor on.

Shen Wei was determinendly avoiding Zhao Yunlan's gaze, fixating on the stack of papers while the tips of his ears burned a charming red at the attention hee refused to acknowledge. Zhao Yunlan watched as he tucked a too-short hair behind his ear. An almost reflexive gesture that struck Zhao Yunlan with a surge of nostalgia for the way the little ghost king used to do the same with his unruly hair so many eons ago. He wondered if Shen Wei remembered at least that. Even if he didn't remember him.

Shen Wei had only smiled when Zhao Yunlan had delivered the bouquet of bright fuschia Ice Soul roses. Even the little box of lollipops had been consumed without comment, and received with minimal acknowledgement. Today, he'd brought a beautifully decorated tin of snow chrysanthemum tea and set it between them silently.

Shen Wei lookeed up briefly from his papers. "For me?" he asked, almost a liittle exasperated.

Zhao Yunlan took no offense, knowing it was likely due to his work and not him or the present. "Mm. I thought you might like it. The flowers are yellow when dried, but the tea is a vibant red. I'm told it has notes of caramelize dark honey. Really, probably more my style than yours, but ... I thought you might appreciate it. It's quite rare."

Shen Wei reached for the tin, examining the paper label where an ink painting of a large mountain range lined the the background. "Is this Kunlun mountain?" he asked, curiously, turning it around fully before opening the tin to take in the scent. "Snow chrysanthemum. It must have been difficult to procure."

Zhao Yunlan's eyes brightened with that cursory recognition, though the realization that Shen Wei would of course know such a thing as a professor of classics was like being excited a mathmetician could count. But hearing his ancient names on those soft lips set his heart into a racing, wild gallop that he could only be dragged along with to oblivion.

Boldly, his hand reached out to rest upon Shen Wei's, expertly avoiding the red pen still lodged firmly in his fingers to slip his own within the creche of hiis grasp. The thought of Shen Wei drinking the flowers of his mountain, the soul of his ancient, primodial power within him could not have thrilled him any more completely. "Let's share a cup together one day?" he asked, his voice shamefully hopeful. But even after a hundred centuries and a hundred lives, his relic, archaic heart still knew nothing but hope.