By midday on the third day, Cloud Recesses had never felt so warm.

The sun shimmered gently on the stone pathways, and the distant murmur of the waterfall blended with the flutter of robes drying on long bamboo lines. The laundry courtyard—usually bustling with disciples—remained peacefully quiet, claimed entirely by Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji for yet another day.

Wei Wuxian lounged lazily under the cherry tree that stood just outside the courtyard, a single blade of grass between his lips, and a half-folded robe forgotten across his lap. He gazed upward through the leaves, watching the light shift and dance.

“I could get used to this,” he said dreamily.

Lan Wangji, several feet away, continued hanging freshly washed robes. He didn’t respond, though Wei Wuxian was fairly certain he’d heard.

“I mean it,” Wei Wuxian continued, voice lilting with mischief. “The sun, the wind, the scent of fresh laundry—and of course, the company.”

Lan Wangji paused, glanced over his shoulder. “Then help.”

Wei Wuxian snorted, rolling onto his stomach. “Lan Zhan! I’ve been slaving away for two whole days. A hardworking man must rest his weary bones.”

Lan Wangji arched a single brow in response and reached for another damp robe.

Wei Wuxian rolled back and sat up. “You’re impossible.”

But even as he said it, he rose to his feet, brushing off stray leaves, and returned to Lan Wangji’s side.

“Let it be known,” he said, stretching dramatically, “that I, Wei Wuxian, am generous of spirit and strong of will.”

Lan Wangji handed him a robe silently.

Wei Wuxian chuckled. “And unappreciated.”

The two of them fell into a rhythm again—one lifting, one pinning. Robes swayed gently in the breeze, drying in the warmth of the day. It should’ve been monotonous, yet somehow, time passed easily. There was something soothing in the silence they shared—something grounding in the simplicity of movement and stillness, of glances exchanged when fingers brushed and eyes met.

Wei Wuxian stole a look at Lan Wangji’s profile as he worked. The pink-stained headband still graced his forehead, contrasting against his pale skin and snowy robes. Wei Wuxian didn’t know why it struck him so deeply—but every time he looked at it, it stirred something fond and warm in his chest.

“You know,” he said suddenly, breaking the quiet, “I never thought I’d see you wearing color.”

Lan Wangji glanced at him.

“Not that white doesn’t suit you,” Wei Wuxian added quickly. “It does. Immaculate. Noble. Aloof. But the pink adds something.” He tilted his head. “Softens you. A little less… untouchable.”

Lan Wangji looked away, as if unsure what to do with that.

Wei Wuxian, unbothered, leaned closer. “Do you like it?”

After a pause, Lan Wangji said quietly, “Yes.”

Wei Wuxian’s grin widened. “Then I’ll make more mistakes.”

A soft gust of wind swept through the courtyard then, picking up a half-pinned robe and sending it billowing into the air. Wei Wuxian scrambled after it with a shout.

“Ah! Not again!”

The robe fluttered like a great white bird, twisting out of reach. Wei Wuxian leapt, arms wide, narrowly catching it before it sailed over the courtyard wall.

“Ha!” he cried triumphantly. “Caught you!”

He turned, beaming, to find Lan Wangji standing nearby, hands folded serenely behind his back. “You should tie them properly.”

“You could thank me, you know,” Wei Wuxian said, returning to the line. “This is quality heroism.”

Lan Wangji took the robe from him and began folding it. “You are the one who failed to secure it.”

Wei Wuxian threw his head back and laughed. “Lan Zhan, you wound me.”

He flopped onto the nearby bench again, the wind tousling his hair as he sprawled dramatically. “What I need is a reward for my efforts. Something small. Something sweet.”

Without speaking, Lan Wangji walked toward the guest quarters. Wei Wuxian blinked, watching him disappear around the corner.

“…That wasn’t a hint, you know,” he called after him.

Five minutes passed. Then ten.

Wei Wuxian was almost dozing when Lan Wangji returned. In his hand, he held a small, lidded wooden box.

“Eh?” Wei Wuxian sat up, curious.

Lan Wangji set the box beside him.

Wei Wuxian opened it.

Inside were three sweet osmanthus cakes, delicate and slightly sticky, wrapped in thin parchment. The scent wafted up instantly—light and floral and perfectly familiar.

Wei Wuxian stared, mouth falling open. “Where did you—?”

“There is a storage room near the library,” Lan Wangji said simply. “I remembered you like them.”

Wei Wuxian looked at him, something unreadable flickering in his expression. “Lan Zhan…”

He picked one up and bit into it slowly, chewing with deliberate appreciation.

“…You do care.”

Lan Wangji’s gaze didn’t waver. “I do.”

The honesty of it nearly made Wei Wuxian choke on his cake. He coughed once, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because!” Wei Wuxian sputtered, “My heart’s not strong enough for this.”

Lan Wangji was quiet, but the pink in his ears returned, soft and telling.

Wei Wuxian leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand as he looked at him. “You really mean it, don’t you?”

“I would not say it otherwise.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian murmured, “you’re going to ruin me.”

The sun began to dip lower, casting golden light across the courtyard. Laundry fluttered like sails all around them. Lan Wangji sat beside him on the bench, the silence stretching between them—this time rich and full, like an old song neither needed to sing aloud.

Wei Wuxian tilted his head until it lightly bumped Lan Wangji’s shoulder.

Lan Wangji didn’t move.

“I’ve always liked it here,” Wei Wuxian said quietly. “Even when I pretended I didn’t.”

Lan Wangji’s gaze shifted toward him.

“I used to think the rules were stifling. That this place was too clean. Too strict. But now…” Wei Wuxian exhaled. “It’s peaceful.”

Lan Wangji nodded once.

“And I like being here with you.”

That caught something in Lan Wangji’s expression. A softening.

Wei Wuxian grinned, the mischief returning. “I still think you’re too serious, though.”

“You are too loud.”

“I’m charmingly loud.”

Lan Wangji didn’t argue.

Wei Wuxian finished his cake and leaned back, hands behind his head. “Tomorrow, we’ll have to do more laundry, won’t we?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe I’ll mix the whites with the reds again. See what happens.”

Lan Wangji’s eyes slid sideways. “You will not.”

Wei Wuxian beamed. “You’ll stop me?”

“If necessary.”

Wei Wuxian leaned closer. “Would you chase me?”

“I would catch you.”

A beat of silence.

Wei Wuxian’s breath caught, just for a moment. He stared at Lan Wangji, blinking once.

“…That was very smooth,” he said, stunned.

Lan Wangji stood slowly. “The day is not over.”

Wei Wuxian jumped to his feet, pointing a finger. “You have been practicing! Admit it!”

Lan Wangji gave no answer.

Wei Wuxian chased after him anyway, laughter echoing between the stone walls as the golden light of the setting sun wrapped them both in a quiet, golden warmth.

And the pink headband danced gently in the breeze behind Lan Wangji, soft and bold, like a secret shared with no one else.