Until We Meet Again...(YiZhan)

The next few days were filled with quiet unease for both Xiao Zhan and Wang Yibo. Though they hadn't seen each other since their chance encounter at the gallery, their thoughts constantly drifted back to the strange connection they shared. Each moment felt like a jigsaw puzzle that was just out of reach, one piece hovering in the air but never quite falling into place.

Zhan found himself thinking about Yibo during his meetings, while Yibo couldn't stop himself from replaying their brief interactions in his mind. There was something so familiar about Zhan—the way his eyes held depth and sorrow, the way his presence brought both calm and chaos at the same time.

It was late one night when Zhan received another text from Yibo.

"I've been thinking about that sketch… and about us. I don't think it's just coincidence, Zhan."

His fingers hovered over the screen, unsure of how to respond. What did Yibo mean? Was it just a fleeting thought, or something deeper?

"I don't know either," he typed finally, the words feeling too heavy.

"Come meet me tomorrow. I have something to show you. Something that might make all of this make sense."

Zhan's heart raced. What could Yibo possibly have to show him that would explain the strange pull between them? Still, curiosity got the better of him.

The next afternoon, Zhan met Yibo at a quiet café, a place they had both visited before without realizing it. Yibo was already sitting at a corner table, his usual air of nonchalance replaced by a seriousness Zhan hadn't seen before.

"What's this all about?" Zhan asked as he took a seat across from him.

Yibo didn't say anything at first. Instead, he slid a small, weathered book across the table. Zhan raised an eyebrow as he looked at it. It was old, its cover worn and pages yellowed with age. There was no title, just a simple insignia embossed on the front—two intertwined symbols that Zhan immediately recognized.

The moment his fingers brushed the book, a strange sense of déjà vu flooded him. He opened it slowly, his breath catching as the pages revealed intricate sketches, most of them depicting two figures—one in flowing robes, the other in armor, their faces always obscured but their connection undeniable.

Zhan's heart skipped a beat as he turned to the next page. It was the same sketch he had drawn—two figures standing under a full moon.

"Where did you find this?" Zhan whispered, his voice trembling.

Yibo's gaze met his. "I found it years ago, long before I met you. I didn't understand it then. But now… I think it's something we both need to understand."

The silence between them was thick with unspoken words, a shared realization slowly dawning on them both. Zhan's fingers ran over the paper as memories—no, visions—began to surface.

He saw himself in a different life—standing on a cliff, looking down at a battlefield below. He could feel the weight of a sword in his hand, the air thick with the scent of smoke. Beside him, a figure stood tall and unyielding, his gaze unwavering, as though he had always been there, watching over him.

And then, as if it were a whisper in the wind, a name echoed in his mind.

Wei WuXian.

Zhan's breath caught in his throat. The name felt like a key unlocking a door deep within him, a door that led to memories he didn't understand but recognized with every fiber of his being.

Beside him, Yibo's face had gone pale, his hand gripping the edge of the table tightly. "Do you feel it too?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

Zhan nodded, his head spinning. "I… I think I do."

Yibo's fingers twitched, and then, with a quiet breath, he opened the book to the very last page. There, etched into the parchment, was a final drawing—two figures, their faces clear this time, standing together under the full moon.

Wei WuXian and Lan Zhan.

Zhan's heart stopped. The realization hit him like a tidal wave. The man standing beside him—this person who had captured his thoughts and dreams—was the very same person who had once been Lan Zhan, his soulmate in another life.

"You…" Zhan's voice trembled, unable to fully process what was happening.

Yibo closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at Zhan with a soft, knowing gaze. "I think we've been here before, Zhan. In another life. Together. And somehow, we've found each other again."

Tears pricked at the corner of Zhan's eyes. He felt a rush of emotions—confusion, fear, but also… something deeper, something comforting, like coming home.

"I don't know how to explain it," Zhan whispered, his voice hoarse. "But… I feel like I've been waiting for you my whole life."

Yibo reached across the table, his hand gently covering Zhan's. "You haven't been waiting alone."

For a moment, everything else faded away. The bustling café, the noise, the confusion—none of it mattered. There was only the two of them, and a past that had never truly been forgotten, just waiting to resurface.

And in that moment, Zhan knew that this wasn't just fate. This was something eternal, something that had been written in the stars, across time and lives.

They were meant to be together.