The automatic glass doors slid open with a polite hum, welcoming shoppers into the fluorescently lit labyrinth of modern domestic perfection. Wei Wuxian stopped just inside the threshold, squinting dramatically as though he were entering an ancient battlefield instead of a Swedish furniture store.

"Lan Zhan," he said in a voice full of awe, nudging his long-suffering companion in the ribs. "Do you smell that? It’s the fragrance of affordable interior design. This, my dear Lan Zhan, is what heaven must smell like. Sawdust mixed with meatballs."

Lan Wangji, immaculate in his white cardigan that looked suspiciously like a cloud-patterned robe with sleeves far too long for practicality, gave him a single glance. His expression was flat, his mouth a straight line of silent judgment.

"…It smells of MDF board and grease," he replied, tonelessly.

Wei Wuxian clapped his hands together, unbothered by the lack of enthusiasm. "Exactly! The aroma of ambition! The scent of commitment! Today, we will conquer IKEA."

He spun around with a flourish, nearly colliding with a young family pushing a trolley stacked with flat-packed boxes. The toddler in the seat pointed at Wei Wuxian and shrieked something unintelligible, possibly “shark,” though it could just as easily have been “chaos incarnate.”

Wei Wuxian winked at the child, then tugged at Lan Wangji’s sleeve. "Come on, come on! Don’t just stand there looking like you’re about to lecture the entire furniture section about Confucian virtues. We’re adventurers! Explorers of domestic bliss!"

Lan Wangji’s gaze followed the arrows painted neatly on the floor, each one guiding customers along a predetermined path through the store. His voice, when he spoke, was resolute.

"We must follow the arrows."

Wei Wuxian blinked. "The arrows?"

Lan Wangji inclined his head once. "They indicate the correct path. Rules must be obeyed."

Wei Wuxian groaned loudly, tossing his head back. "Lan Zhan, this is IKEA, not the Cloud Recesses! No one is going to punish us if we wander a little. It’s not like a fierce corpse is going to jump out of the wardrobe section and chase us down the lighting aisle. We can roam free!"

"Rules," Lan Wangji repeated, his voice implacable.

"Fine, fine," Wei Wuxian muttered, throwing up his hands. "We’ll follow the holy arrows of IKEA, o mighty Lan Zhan. But if I happen to get distracted by, say, a life-sized plush shark… well, that’s fate, isn’t it?"

Lan Wangji’s expression did not change, but Wei Wuxian thought he saw the faintest flicker of his eyelids, which meant that Lan Zhan was already bracing himself for disaster.

The first section of IKEA was laid out like a series of miniature homes, each perfectly curated to showcase how one might live if they were Scandinavian, minimalist, and completely devoid of chaos. Wei Wuxian immediately dove headfirst into the nearest display.

"Lan Zhan, look! A fake living room!" He threw himself onto the sofa, limbs splayed dramatically. "This is it. This is my throne. From this day forth, I am the King of IKEA."

A passing employee gave him a mildly concerned look. Lan Wangji gave him a colder one.

"Wei Ying. Get up."

"But Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian protested, wriggling deeper into the cushions, "it’s so comfortable! Feel this! You have to try it!" He patted the spot beside him invitingly.

Lan Wangji remained standing, arms folded. "It is for display."

Wei Wuxian gasped. "Display?! Lan Zhan, life is too short to merely look at sofas. One must experience them. Taste them. Live them!"

"You will not taste the sofa," Lan Wangji said, with the weary certainty of a man who had dealt with Wei Wuxian far too long to dismiss the possibility.

Wei Wuxian burst into laughter, so loud that another customer nearby looked up from testing the durability of a coffee table. "Lan Zhan! You’re funny, you know that? Hanguang-jun, destroyer of chaos, protector of arrows, and now, sofa police!"

Lan Wangji ignored him and began walking forward, following the arrows. Wei Wuxian sprang up and jogged after him.

"Alright, alright, I’m coming! Don’t look so stern, I promise I’ll behave. For at least…" He paused, considering. "Ten minutes."

They passed through the dining room setups next. Wei Wuxian immediately grabbed a wine glass from one of the displays and raised it in a toast.

"To us, Lan Zhan! May our IKEA journey be long, confusing, and full of unnecessary throw pillows!"

A stern cough came from behind them. A store employee with a clipboard gave him the kind of glare usually reserved for shoplifters and children drawing on the walls.

"Sir," she said firmly, "the display items are not for use."

Wei Wuxian set the glass down with exaggerated care. "Of course, of course. My apologies! I was just… admiring the craftsmanship. Yes, admiring."

The employee gave him a suspicious look, then walked away. Wei Wuxian leaned toward Lan Wangji and whispered, "Did you see that? We’re already on their watchlist. We’re going to be IKEA fugitives."

Lan Wangji’s gaze was flat as glass. "You are."

Wei Wuxian laughed again, delighted.

It wasn’t long before he strayed from the path. Lan Wangji was carefully studying the arrows, methodically making his way toward the next section, when he realized Wei Wuxian had vanished.

He turned. Silence. Only the faint sound of shopping carts squeaking.

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji called, his voice even.

No answer.

A moment later, an unmistakable voice came from three aisles over.

"Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan! Look what I found!"

Lan Wangji walked toward the noise with the resigned patience of a saint.

Wei Wuxian emerged from behind a mountain of plush toys, hugging something large and blue against his chest. His grin was uncontainable.

"Behold! A shark! And not just any shark—a plush shark!" He held it up triumphantly, as if he’d discovered a rare spiritual artifact.

Lan Wangji looked at it. Then at Wei Wuxian. Then back at the shark.

"No."

Wei Wuxian gasped, clutching the plush dramatically. "No? How can you say no? Look at his face, Lan Zhan! He’s begging to come home with us. He’s practically family already!"

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji said, tone unbending, "we do not need it."

"But it’s destiny! I was walking along, minding my own business, and then—bam!—this little guy called out to me. He said, ‘Wei Wuxian, please rescue me from this lonely pile of discount sadness!’ And what kind of man would I be if I ignored such a heartfelt plea?"

"A rational one," Lan Wangji said.

Wei Wuxian pouted, hugging the shark tighter. "You’re heartless, Lan Zhan. Heartless! Fine, if you won’t accept him as family, then he’ll just be my IKEA battle companion. Together, we shall conquer the labyrinth of arrows!"

Lan Wangji said nothing, which was tacit permission. Wei Wuxian beamed and skipped forward, shark tucked under his arm.

By the time they reached the kitchen displays, Wei Wuxian had somehow acquired a second plush shark ("He was lonely, Lan Zhan!") and was using both of them to act out dramatic puppet theater scenarios.

"Lan Zhan," he said in a deep, gruff voice, waving one shark, "I am the fierce beast of the IKEA seas! Rawr!"

The other shark wiggled in his hand. "Oh no, save me, handsome cultivator Lan Wangji!"

Several customers stopped to watch. A child clapped enthusiastically. A middle-aged man muttered, "What the hell is going on," under his breath.

Lan Wangji stood perfectly still, face blank, as though this had nothing to do with him.

Finally, Wei Wuxian dropped the act and leaned the sharks against a display oven. "Alright, Lan Zhan, your turn. Make them talk."

"No."

"Come on! Just once! For me?"

Lan Wangji’s silence was absolute.

Wei Wuxian sighed theatrically. "Fine, fine. But just so you know, you’d make an excellent shark voice actor. Deep, noble, intimidating. The stuff of legends."

Lan Wangji’s eyebrow twitched.

As they moved on, Wei Wuxian discovered the kitchen utensils section and lit up like a child in a candy store.

"Lan Zhan, look at this whisk! And this spatula! And—oh my god—tiny tongs!"

He began shoveling random utensils into a shopping basket he had stolen from a nearby display.

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji said, "we do not cook."

Wei Wuxian gasped, hand on his chest. "How dare you! I cooked once! Remember? It was that hotpot, and okay, maybe the soup tried to set itself on fire, but the point is, cooking is in my soul!"

Lan Wangji simply took the basket from his hands and set it back on the display.

"Hey!" Wei Wuxian protested.

"No," Lan Wangji said, final.

Wei Wuxian muttered something about tyrants and oppression but followed along, already distracted by the lighting section ahead.

And that was when the true chaos began.

Wei Wuxian entered the lighting department like a pilgrim reaching the holy land. His eyes widened. His grin spread dangerously.

"Lamps, Lan Zhan," he whispered reverently. "So many lamps."

He darted forward, touching every single one. Floor lamps, desk lamps, pendant lamps, novelty lamps shaped like mushrooms. He flicked switches, turned knobs, and pressed buttons with manic glee.

"Lan Zhan! Look at this one! It’s like the moon! Oh, and this one—it changes colors! This one looks like a turnip! We need them all!"

By the time Lan Wangji caught up, Wei Wuxian had gathered an armful of lamps, wires tangling everywhere.

"Wei Ying."

"Yes, Lan Zhan?"

"No."

Wei Wuxian pouted. "But imagine it! Our house lit up like the night hunt, but instead of resentful energy, it’s cozy IKEA ambiance!"

Lan Wangji took the lamps from his arms and set them back neatly.

"You’re no fun," Wei Wuxian grumbled, then perked up instantly when he saw a chandelier shaped like a cluster of icicles. "Lan Zhan! We could put this in the bathroom! Imagine showering under this masterpiece!"

"No."

Wei Wuxian collapsed against him dramatically, shark still tucked under one arm. "Lan Zhan, you crush my dreams daily. Daily!"

Lan Wangji’s hand twitched at his side, as if resisting the urge to pat his head.

It was only after Wei Wuxian nearly caused a small electrical incident with a string of fairy lights that an IKEA staff member approached them.

"Excuse me," she said carefully, clipboard in hand. "Are you two… finding everything alright?"

Wei Wuxian gave her his brightest, most innocent smile. "Perfectly! We’re just… appreciating the artistry of IKEA’s lighting solutions."

Lan Wangji gave a curt nod. "We are following the arrows."

The employee blinked at them, visibly unsure what to do with that information, then backed away slowly.

Wei Wuxian snorted. "See, Lan Zhan? They fear us. We are unstoppable."

Lan Wangji sighed, so softly it was nearly inaudible.

Wei Wuxian darted forward again, this time into the bed section. He flung himself onto the nearest display bed, limbs sprawling like a starfish.

"Lan Zhan! This bed is amazing! Let’s just… stay here forever. We’ll live in IKEA. We have everything we need—sharks, lamps, meatballs! It’s paradise!"

Lan Wangji stood at the foot of the bed, expression carved from ice.

"We are not staying in IKEA."

"But Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian said, rolling onto his stomach and kicking his legs in the air, "imagine it! We’d be legends. The mysterious couple who live among the display furniture. Children would whisper our names. Staff would bring us offerings of lingonberry jam."

"Wei Ying."

"Yes?"

"Get up."

Wei Wuxian sighed, dramatically rolling off the bed and landing in a heap on the floor. He popped back up instantly, still grinning. "Fine, fine. But admit it, Lan Zhan...you’d look good as a domestic IKEA husband. I can see it now. You, me, and a fleet of plush sharks."

Lan Wangji looked at him. Then, with infinite patience, turned and continued following the arrows.

Wei Wuxian scampered after him, already planning their next ridiculous adventure.