Cosplay (A Wang Ye-centric Oneshot)
Out at night, he was him. But also, her and them and all the possibilities he knew were unreachable except for this short moment out of time.
🏷️: Genderqueer!WY ; Hints at QingYe ; fluff without plot
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Well... I say oneshot, but this is actually a part of a longer fic about trans!Wang Ye that'll never see the light of day lolololol
Written for @yrzx-archive's Yiren Disco 2026! Day 1: Night Life
Jin Yuanyuan had become a famous fashion designer, known for her street-style hanfu clothing lines. She had amassed 6.6 million followers on Weibo and 8.8 million followers on Douyin over the years and had built her own empire of clothing shops around the world.
It all started back in 2016, when Jin Yuanyuan was only seventeen, armed with her phone and her dreams. She could count on two hands the number of followers she had when she started posting pictures of her designs online—one of which was her private account, and three were her close friends who would sometimes do some modeling for her.
Unfortunately, all of her ‘models’ were male, so one of them had to model some of the more feminine pieces with her to make it more balanced. Of course, the person who drew the shortest stick was Wang Ye.
Wang Ye didn’t mind it as much as he thought he should. Their weekly night photoshoots were good distractions from cram school and the reason why he was enrolled in so many of them. His grades had been slipping away, sure, but it wasn’t because he needed extra help. It was just that—his grades, the gaokao? It all felt meaningless.
But dressing up as a Qing-Dynasty princess whose robes were cut a little too short and tight to be accurate? He could at least derive some meaning from that—some purpose—even if it was as simple as helping his friend.
Besides, having a night out with his friends as someone who wasn’t entirely him—the boy who was wasting his time and his parents’ money—felt… freeing.
Out at night, under the warm lighting of the restaurants in the hutongs they frequent, she was a demure noble lady always hiding behind fans. Or if the outfits were more urbanized, they were some mysterious person, skateboarding through the streets of Sanlitun with a face mask and a cap.
Out at night, he was him. But also, her and them and all the possibilities he knew were unreachable except for this short moment out of time.
That was nine years ago. Jin Yuanyuan had eventually realized her dreams, and Wang Ye could stop dressing up for her. But it felt as if Wang Ye still wore a costume even after hiding away the box of robes Jin Yuanyuan gave him as a token of gratitude before going their separate ways—her to Paris and him to Wudang.
The very same box lay on his bed, very dusty, and the cardboard was already disintegrating. Surprisingly, the hanfu inside was untouched by time—the colors were as vibrant as he remembered: oranges and golds and green accents. Though perhaps that shouldn’t be a surprise at all, for it had never seen the sun all these years.
Wang Ye was back in Beijing, and he was without purpose once more. Zhang Chulan and the others came by to check on him, and Zhuge Qing was adamant that he showed Beijing’s nightlife, which he supposedly ‘had hidden from him the first time he visited.’
It would be a good distraction. He didn’t have a lot of that after they finally had quelled the burgeoning calamity due to the resurgence of the Eight Supremes.
He could don the robes and be everything all at once again. Size wouldn’t even be an issue. He could just shapeshift into a person who could fit in such old robes. He was more powerful now. He could be out of time and out of space.
The problem was his friends. His old ones would understand—Jin Yuanyuan had already understood, way before he even did. But he didn’t know what he would do if his new friends laughed at him or grimaced in disgust.
Ultimately, he decided that living in the uncertainty of whether or not he’d be accepted was far worse than being rejected. Besides, the robes weren’t too feminine anyway—that is, if you ignore the blatant inspirations from a ruqun. It would be fine.
He first met with Zhang Chulan, Feng Baobao, and Zhang Lingyu, who just raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t say anything.
“Wah, Lao-Wang,” he braced himself for whatever shameless nonsense that came out of Zhang Chulan’s mouth, but was surprised when the other only said, “You should’ve said that we’re dressing up! I didn’t know you liked hanfu street fashion. Are there rentals nearby?” Then Zhang Chulan gave him a coy look, saying, “Are you sponsoring us to have the full tourist package? I’ve always wanted to try a hanfu photoshoot! After you show us all there is in Beijing... We should go to Xi’an next~~”
He rolled his eyes, and whatever reply he had died on his lips when Feng Baobao left without saying anything. Out of everyone, he expected Feng Baobao to have a negative reaction the least. He shifted his weight from one foot to another, not knowing what to say or how to say it without choking.
“Aiyoh, Bao’er-jie! Wait up!” Zhang Chulan called out for her before turning to him, “She’s probably hungry already. Let’s go. Lao-Qing said he’s saving us a seat in that nai lao place you brought him to before. He said it was so packed that you had to sit on the sidewalk!”
He swallowed the lump in his throat. “It’s because we came there at midday on a weekend. Nanluoguxiang is usually packed with people at that time. Tonight… we should be okay.”
He wasn’t lying when he said that, but they still lost one another in the crowds. Trusting that the others would eventually find their way, he went to find Zhuge Qing.
The man was on his phone when Wang Ye sat beside him. Five cups of frozen yogurt were already on the table, ready for them, kept cold by a small talisman underneath them. “Did you really do a divination to get our orders? Such an unnecessary risk. Tsk, tsk, tsk.”
Zhuge Qing finally looked up from his phone, almost dropping it when he saw him. “A-ah... Meimei, sorry but I’m reserving this table for my friends.”
“Lao-Qing, ah. Didn’t you hear what I just said? Don’t you recognize me?” He didn’t change much about his face. He had always liked it, to be honest—the roundness and sharpness of it were all in balance. He just made himself a little shorter and had his body fill out the parts of the robes that were meant for the curves of a woman.
“Lao-Wang?”
“There you guys are!” Zhang Chulan excused himself through the crowd. He was now wearing some cheap hanfu rental and was followed by the others in similar clothing. “Lao-Qing, go find some robes too!”
“Ah?”
“Ai, just do it; ask later.” Zhang Chulan hauled the other up from his seat.
“But my nai lao...”
“Eat it later. Go, go, go! We’ll wait for you here.” He pushed the poor man out the door and then turned to him. “Lao-Wang, Lao-Wang! Bao’er-jie has something for you.” He gestured for the woman to come closer.
With all the seriousness and true sincerity, Feng Baobao declared, “Someone once told me: a pretty lady should have pretty things.” Then she presented what looked like a simple hairpin at first, but it had such exquisite, engraved patterns along the stick.
“Ah-hah... But Lao-Wang, that’s part of the rental package, okay? So, it’s yours only for tonight...”
That didn’t matter. He’d probably just buy it from the rental place. “Thank you,” he said to Feng Baobao. “This is very lovely.”
“Mn. Can I eat that?”
“Sure, go ahead,” he replied, chuckling. If some of the fullness of his heart spilled out, nobody commented on it. But he kept smiling as he put the pin in his hair, and they started their eating spree with the yogurts.
Later, Zhuge Qing rejoined them. They texted him that they were already at the fifth store down the river, sampling some stinky tofu this time. The robes that he chose—they were of the same shade as the green accents of Wang Ye’s robes, and the accents, while not entirely the same shade, were gold and a light brown that was almost orange.
“Do you like it?” He asked, sidling up to Wang Ye, who didn’t follow the others and just stayed outside.
“Yeah...”
“Aiyoh, but Lao-Wang~ I didn’t have enough money to get some accessories too…” This fox pouted at him. As if he wanted for money. Regardless, Wang Ye took one of his other hairpins—careful not to pull out the one that Feng Baobao gave him—and offered it to the man.
“Put it on me?” Zhuge Qing was already tilting his head down without waiting for his answer.
He sighed at this guy’s antics but still untied Zhuge Qing’s hair. He finger-combed it a few times before rolling it into a bun and sticking the pin to hold it up. His hands lingered. “Thank you. For not making this weird.” He said because he needed to say it to someone, and it felt like it would be easier if it were to Zhuge Qing. A lot of things felt easier with Zhuge Qing.
“Now why would anybody make it weird?” Zhuge Qing straightened up, catching his hands as they slid. “You’re just being you.”
“Woah, woah, woah, Lao-Qing! How come your robes look like they’re better quality? Where did you get that?”
“A-Lian, this is your karma for forcing me away from my yogurt.”
“You could’ve eaten it while waiting for us, you know.”
“I can’t start eating without you guys, can I? But the opposite is clearly not the case!”
The group continued down the road along the river, lined with lanterns and willow trees whose leaves dance and sway to the song of the wind.
Wang Ye was right all along. Everything ended up all right.
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