Wei Wuxian was still babbling about living in IKEA when he discovered the bed section in earnest. The first collapse had only been the opening act. Now, faced with an entire maze of mattresses, duvets, and pillows arranged into fully decorated bedrooms, his excitement went from dangerous to catastrophic.

“Lan Zhan!” he exclaimed, flinging himself onto the nearest bed with all the enthusiasm of a child at a trampoline park. “This one is soft! Come lie down with me, quick!”

Lan Wangji remained standing, as dignified as ever, his eyes scanning the carefully painted arrows on the floor like they were divine scripture.

“Wei Ying. Get up.”

“No, no, no,” Wei Wuxian said, rolling dramatically across the bed and tangling himself in a throw blanket. “You can’t just pass by an IKEA bed without testing it. That would be a crime against modern furniture science! Look at this one—it has memory foam! Memory, Lan Zhan. Do you know what that means? This bed would remember me forever.”

He paused, pressing both hands to his heart, and adopted a solemn tone. “Unlike you, you cruel man, who forgets my pleas for stuffed sharks the second you see an arrow on the floor.”

Lan Wangji’s face didn’t change, but the tips of his ears went faintly pink.

Wei Wuxian kicked his legs up and beamed. “Alright, fine. Don’t lie down on this one. But! I’m conducting a full investigation of all beds in this section. For… research purposes. Very serious research.”

Lan Wangji exhaled through his nose, the faintest signal of resignation.

The investigation began with chaos.

Wei Wuxian leapt from bed to bed, sprawling across queen-sized displays, wrapping himself in duvets, and fluffing pillows as if they were sacred relics. He tested every mattress with exaggerated groans of approval or outrage.

“This one is too hard! My bones feel like they’re on trial!”

“This one is too soft! I’m sinking! Lan Zhan, save me, I’m drowning in fluff!”

And then—rolling dramatically onto another—“Ah! Perfect! This is the Goldilocks bed of destiny!”

A young couple walking past snorted in laughter. Their child pointed at Wei Wuxian and shouted, “Look, Mommy, silly man!”

Wei Wuxian waved cheerfully from his nest of pillows. “That’s me! Silly man, at your service!”

Lan Wangji stood stiffly nearby, pretending not to be associated with him, though the faintest twitch of his jaw betrayed inner turmoil.

Eventually, Wei Wuxian dragged Lan Wangji into the chaos.

“Come on, Lan Zhan,” he coaxed, patting the mattress beside him. “Just for a moment. You’ve been walking so stiffly! Your back must be crying out for mercy. Lie down, just once.”

“No.”

Wei Wuxian clasped his hands together dramatically. “Lan Zhan, please! Think of it as… quality assurance. Wouldn’t Hanguang-jun want to ensure the common people are not cheated out of comfortable rest?”

Lan Wangji gave him a look so dry it could have set the entire bedding department aflame.

But Wei Wuxian was relentless. He tugged lightly at Lan Wangji’s sleeve, tilted his head, and smiled with that particular mischievous softness that he knew was nearly impossible to resist.

At last, with infinite reluctance, Lan Wangji sat down on the edge of the bed.

Wei Wuxian gasped. “He did it! Lan Zhan, the sofa police, has been defeated by the mighty mattress!”

“Be quiet,” Lan Wangji murmured.

Wei Wuxian flopped onto his side, propping his chin on his hand. “See? Isn’t this nice? Just you, me, and—oh, look—this sign that says the bedframe only takes forty-five minutes to assemble. Imagine us, Lan Zhan. Domestic bliss. Arguing over which Allen wrench fits where.”

Lan Wangji lay back stiffly, arms at his sides, as though testing a coffin rather than a mattress. Wei Wuxian giggled and poked his cheek.

“You look like you’re about to conduct a funeral, not a nap.”

Lan Wangji closed his eyes, perhaps in prayer for patience.

Wei Wuxian’s “research” quickly spiraled into roleplay.

“Lan Zhan,” he said, dragging him into another display bedroom. “This is our IKEA house. Look—two bedside tables, matching lamps. You on that side, me on this side. Perfect domestic harmony!”

Lan Wangji glanced at the laminated tag on the table. “Model BRIMNES. 599 yuan.”

Wei Wuxian gasped. “Lan Zhan! You memorized the price? You really are a husband shopping for furniture!”

“We are not.”

“We are!” Wei Wuxian insisted, flopping onto the bed and patting the empty side. “Here, let’s pretend. You come home after a long day of, I don’t know, lecturing juniors about the virtue of silence. I’m already here, cooking instant noodles on the BRIMNES nightstand, and—bam!—domestic bliss.”

Lan Wangji gave him a look that said everything: Why am I here, and how do I escape.

Wei Wuxian escalated the bit. He raided pillows from nearby displays and began constructing a fort around one of the beds.

“Lan Zhan, hand me that cushion.”

“No.”

“Lan Zhan, please. For science.”

After a long pause, Lan Wangji handed him the cushion.

Together—well, mostly Wei Wuxian with Lan Wangji silently correcting his poor balance—they built a sprawling pillow fortress. Customers stared. A teenager snapped photos.

Wei Wuxian sat proudly inside, shark plushies guarding the entrance like loyal soldiers.

“Welcome to the Wei-Lan household,” he announced. “Population: us. Rules: no shoes indoors, plenty of lamps, and everyone must sing the IKEA theme song before bed.”

“There is no IKEA theme song,” Lan Wangji said.

“There is now,” Wei Wuxian replied, humming nonsense while swaying side to side.

Lan Wangji’s silence was eloquent despair.

Things only got worse when Wei Wuxian discovered the closet displays.

“Lan Zhan, look at all this storage space!” he cried, throwing open sliding doors to reveal racks of carefully staged fake clothes. “You could hang all your boring white robes in here, and I could—” He pulled out a fake blazer from the rack. “—become CEO of IKEA!”

He struck a pose, shark tucked under one arm like a briefcase. “Wei Wuxian, top executive, here to revolutionize lamp distribution worldwide.”

Lan Wangji’s expression barely shifted, but the corner of his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly.

Wei Wuxian gasped. “Lan Zhan! Was that… was that a smile? Did IKEA finally break you?”

“No,” Lan Wangji said immediately, but the faintest curve lingered.

Wei Wuxian clutched his chest dramatically. “My life is complete. IKEA gave me Lan Zhan’s smile.”

At some point, Wei Wuxian commandeered a trolley. He piled it high with random items: throw pillows, tea candles, three more sharks, an entire stack of rainbow dish towels, and a lamp shaped like a jellyfish.

Lan Wangji walked beside him, occasionally removing items when Wei Wuxian wasn’t looking.

“Hey!” Wei Wuxian caught him in the act of taking out the jellyfish lamp. “That’s vital!”

“We do not need it.”

Wei Wuxian gasped. “Lan Zhan, everything in IKEA is essential. These tea candles could save us in an apocalypse! This jellyfish lamp could—could provide light during a night hunt! Imagine: terrifying corpses illuminated by glowing tentacles.”

“No.”

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian countered, tossing the lamp back into the trolley.

Lan Wangji sighed softly, the sound of someone rethinking all of his life choices.

They eventually reached the cafeteria. Wei Wuxian nearly wept with joy.

“Lan Zhan! Meatballs!” He grabbed a tray and began piling it high. “This is it. This is why IKEA exists. Furniture is secondary. The real cultivation path is paved with meatballs and lingonberry sauce.”

Lan Wangji followed calmly, taking a modest plate.

Wei Wuxian sat down, immediately shoving a forkful into his mouth. His eyes went wide with exaggerated ecstasy. “Lan Zhan. These meatballs are divine. Forget lotus root soup, forget Cloud Recesses bland tofu. This—this is the taste of the heavens.”

Lan Wangji took a single bite. “They are acceptable.”

Wei Wuxian slammed his fork down. “Acceptable?! These are life-changing! These are—Lan Zhan, you’re hopeless.”

He fed a meatball to one of his sharks for emphasis.

Several nearby diners looked on in varying states of confusion and amusement.

After lunch, Wei Wuxian’s energy surged to new, dangerous heights. He insisted on “digesting” by testing every single armchair in the lounge section.

“Lan Zhan, this one’s too rigid. This one swallows me whole. This one makes me feel like a refined gentleman sipping wine by the fireplace. Look, look!” He struck a dramatic pose, swirling an imaginary glass. “Ah yes, the peasants will never understand the burden of my genius.”

Lan Wangji stared at him, expression blank.

Wei Wuxian leaned over and whispered, “That’s your line, Lan Zhan. You’re supposed to say, ‘Be quiet, Wei Ying.’”

“…Be quiet, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian grinned. “Perfect delivery, as always.”

The climax of Part 2 came when Wei Wuxian decided to stage an entire fake household.

He began dragging furniture displays together: a sofa here, a coffee table there, rugs, chairs, pillows. The sharks were carefully arranged as children sitting on the sofa.

“Lan Zhan, look! Our family portrait!”

Lan Wangji stood stiffly nearby.

Wei Wuxian continued, utterly absorbed. He pulled plates and cups from kitchen displays, set them on the coffee table, and mimed pouring tea. “Darling husband, welcome home. Dinner is ready. The children are waiting.”

A passing group of teenagers recorded the scene on their phones, stifling laughter.

Lan Wangji finally spoke. “…Wei Ying.”

“Yes, dear?” Wei Wuxian chirped, fluttering his eyelashes.

“Stop.”

Wei Wuxian burst out laughing, collapsing onto the sofa between two plush sharks. “Ah, Lan Zhan, you’re no fun. But admit it...our fake IKEA house is the best one here!”

Lan Wangji’s silence was long and heavy. Wei Wuxian snuggled into the sharks, grinning ear to ear, utterly pleased with himself.