The sun hung low over the peaks of Cloud Recesses, its golden light diffused gently by the wispy clouds drifting lazily across the sky. The mountain breeze stirred the pine trees and made the long, drying laundry lines flutter like banners in a slow, silent procession. For once, Cloud Recesses was quieter than usual—not because of the Lan sect’s strict rules, but because most of the junior disciples were away on a week-long excursion to the outer provinces. Only a few elders remained, tucked deep in study or meditation.

Wei Wuxian stretched his arms high above his head and let out an exaggerated yawn, the sleeves of his borrowed white robes fluttering slightly. "Ah, what a beautiful day for domestic servitude."

Lan Wangji, kneeling in front of a wooden washtub, said nothing. He dipped a robe carefully into the water, his sleeves pinned neatly back. The soft swishing of fabric echoed quietly in the courtyard.

Wei Wuxian stepped over a pile of wet garments and leaned against the railing, grinning. “Come on, Lan Zhan. Don’t tell me you’re actually enjoying this.”

Lan Wangji didn’t look up. “Laundry is necessary.”

“Necessary? Yes. Fun? Absolutely not,” Wei Wuxian declared, tugging one of the freshly washed robes from the line and holding it up to the sunlight. He squinted. “Didn’t know the Gusu Lan Sect used this kind of material. It’s almost see-through when wet. How scandalous.”

Still no response from Lan Wangji.

With a quiet sigh, Wei Wuxian dropped the robe back over the line and wandered closer to where Lan Wangji was working. He knelt beside him, his robes crumpling without care. “Alright, alright. I’ll help. But only because you look too serious doing this alone.”

A small splash of water greeted his arrival as Lan Wangji shook the soaked robe gently, wringing out the excess liquid. Wei Wuxian stared at the clear water and mischievous ideas began to churn in his mind.

After a moment of innocent scrubbing, Wei Wuxian dipped his fingers into the cold water and flicked a single droplet toward Lan Wangji’s cheek.

Lan Wangji paused. His head turned slightly.

Another flick. This one landed right on his jaw.

Then, the tiniest twitch of his eyebrow.

Wei Wuxian leaned closer, grinning. “Is that a smile trying to form, Lan Zhan? Careful. You’ll ruin your reputation.”

In a flash, Lan Wangji dipped his hand into the tub and flicked water back—just once. A small retaliation. Just enough to wet the front of Wei Wuxian’s collar.

Wei Wuxian gasped in mock outrage. “So you do have a sense of fun hidden behind all those rules!”

Lan Wangji didn’t reply, but there was something just a little too calm in the way he resumed scrubbing.

Wei Wuxian narrowed his eyes. “You’re hiding something. You have a devious side, don’t you?”

Another robe was rinsed and set aside. No response.

But Wei Wuxian was already plotting.

Ten minutes later, the courtyard was filled with the soft thuds of splashing water and the flutter of robes being lifted by the breeze. The once neat piles of wet and dry laundry were now in slight disarray. Water dripped from Wei Wuxian’s sleeves as he crouched behind a basket, watching Lan Wangji who, despite the disarray, remained impossibly composed.

“I must say, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian called, half-laughing, “for someone supposedly above earthly distractions, you look very cute when you’re wet.”

Lan Wangji’s head lifted. A blush rose faintly on his pale cheeks, though he gave no other reaction.

Wei Wuxian tilted his head. “Aw, are you blushing?”

“No,” Lan Wangji said quietly.

“That’s a yes,” Wei Wuxian teased.

Lan Wangji continued folding a robe with quiet precision, though the tips of his ears had clearly turned pink.

Wei Wuxian stood, dripping slightly. “You know, all this wet clothing reminds me of something.” He disappeared behind a screen for a moment, rustling and muttering to himself. “Let’s just see how breathable these inner robes really are...”

Lan Wangji looked up just in time to see Wei Wuxian re-emerge, dressed in one of Lan sect’s inner garments, slightly damp and clinging far too comfortably to his form.

“Don’t worry,” Wei Wuxian said, spinning once with arms wide. “I’m only borrowing it. Just testing the quality, you know. Very fine material. Very... soft.”

Lan Wangji's gaze dropped involuntarily, then flicked away so quickly one might’ve missed it.

Wei Wuxian grinned. “Lan Zhan. Your face.”

Lan Wangji stood abruptly and turned toward the drying lines, clearly intent on ignoring him.

But the corner of his mouth twitched again.

Wei Wuxian sighed dramatically and picked up one of the headbands from a nearby basket. “Hmm… These always look so delicate. Are they all handmade?”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji replied, still not facing him.

Wei Wuxian lifted it carefully, studying the soft embroidery along its edge. “Beautiful work. I wonder—oh.”

A splash of pink marred the pristine white.

Wei Wuxian held it up, aghast. “Oh no. Oh no no no.”

Lan Wangji turned slowly. His gaze fell on the stained headband in Wei Wuxian’s hands.

“I think… I think I may have dropped one of your red outer robes into the wash by mistake,” Wei Wuxian admitted, sheepish. “And, uh… This one must’ve gotten caught in the wrong tub.”

He braced for an outburst. Or at the very least, a stern reprimand.

Instead, Lan Wangji stepped forward, took the headband gently from his hands, and studied the soft pink streak across it.

“Fashion,” Wei Wuxian said quickly. “It’s a fashion statement now. Very avant-garde. Very... you.”

There was a long pause.

Then, incredibly, Lan Wangji tied the headband neatly around his forehead, adjusting it with the same careful precision he used for everything else. The soft pink hue looked strangely elegant against his otherwise immaculate appearance.

Wei Wuxian stared. “You’re actually going to wear it?”

Lan Wangji turned his head slightly. “It is still functional.”

“That’s not the point! You—you actually don’t mind?”

“No.”

Wei Wuxian blinked, then smiled, something warm and almost shy curling at the edge of his lips. “You’re full of surprises today, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji didn’t respond, but the faintest upward tilt of his lips gave him away.

The courtyard settled into a soft quiet once more, the late afternoon sun casting golden patterns across the tiled ground. The wind picked up again, sending the drying robes flapping gently as if applauding their mischief.

Wei Wuxian, still half-dressed in borrowed robes and entirely soaked, flopped back onto the wooden bench. “I might actually enjoy laundry day.”

Lan Wangji moved to sit beside him, robes pristine despite the earlier chaos.

“Only when you're around, though,” Wei Wuxian added with a grin.

“Mn.”

And in the hush of the high mountain courtyard, with robes fluttering like soft sails and the scent of fresh water in the air, their laughter faded into a comfortable silence neither needed to fill.