The IKEA Dynasty might have fallen, but Wei Wuxian’s spirits certainly had not. If anything, the destruction of his pillow fortress seemed to spark a renewed determination to create even more chaos.

As soon as the employees were out of sight, Wei Wuxian popped upright, shark still clutched to his chest, and whispered conspiratorially, “Lan Zhan. Operation IKEA Resurrection begins now.”

Lan Wangji, sitting with impeccable posture on the sofa, turned his head slightly. “No.”

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian insisted, his grin spreading like wildfire. “You can’t kill an idea, Lan Zhan. Empires live on in the hearts of the people. Look at them!” He gestured dramatically toward the gawking customers, several of whom were still filming their antics from a distance. “The people need us. We are their entertainment in this soulless maze of MDF furniture!”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said, voice steady and quiet but carrying an edge like unsheathed Bichen, “sit.”

Wei Wuxian sat. For exactly three seconds. Then he bounced back up. “Okay, sitting was nice. Now—onward!”

This time, his target was the home office section.

“Lan Zhan, behold!” Wei Wuxian spread his arms wide at the neat rows of desks and shelves. “The cultivation world has sect rules, we have manuals and scrolls. IKEA has binders and ergonomic chairs. Truly, it is destiny that we establish our headquarters here.”

He plopped into a swivel chair, spun around once, and smacked into the desk with a loud thunk. “Ow. Alright, maybe destiny has sharp corners.”

Lan Wangji approached slowly, his expression carved in marble.

Wei Wuxian straightened, pointed at another chair, and said brightly, “Vice Sect Leader Lan, please, have a seat. We must discuss IKEA sect politics.”

“No.”

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian countered, dragging the chair closer and patting it insistently. “This is important. Our sect cannot be leaderless.”

After a pause long enough for Wei Wuxian to start making shark hand puppets, Lan Wangji finally sat down.

Wei Wuxian clapped his hands. “Excellent! Now, as sect leader, I propose we create the first IKEA cultivation technique. One: navigate using only the sacred arrows. Two: summon plush sharks as spiritual beasts. Three: meatballs are our offering to heaven. Thoughts?”

Lan Wangji stared at him, silent.

Wei Wuxian leaned closer. “You’re supposed to say, ‘En.’”

“…En.”

Wei Wuxian nearly fell out of his chair from laughter.

Their “sect meeting” was soon interrupted when Wei Wuxian discovered the stationary displays.

“Lan Zhan! Look! Pens! Not ordinary pens—Scandinavian pens!” He grabbed a pack, held it aloft, and declared, “With these, I could rewrite the Yin Tiger Tally in stylish modern ink!”

He stuffed the pens into his basket, added a stack of notebooks, and then squealed when he found a corkboard.

“This! This is perfect! We’ll pin up all our IKEA sect rules here. Rule number one: Wei Wuxian gets final say on lamp purchases.”

“No,” Lan Wangji said.

Wei Wuxian stuck his tongue out. “Fine, fine. Rule number one: Lan Zhan pretends to be in charge, but really, Wei Wuxian is in charge. Much more accurate.”

A nearby shopper chuckled audibly. Wei Wuxian spun, bowed theatrically, and said, “Thank you, loyal sect member!”

Lan Wangji’s patience was rapidly being tested to the breaking point.

The lamp section, unfortunately, was on their path again.

Wei Wuxian gasped the moment he saw the glowing expanse of bulbs, shades, and string lights. He turned, eyes sparkling with dangerous glee.

“Lan Zhan. It’s fate. We were brought back to the lamps.”

“No,” Lan Wangji said immediately.

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian argued, already darting forward. “Look! A lamp shaped like a dragonfly! And this one—Lan Zhan, it’s like the moon again! This is a sign!”

Lan Wangji followed at a measured pace, watching as Wei Wuxian tried to turn on five lamps at once.

“Imagine it, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian continued, arms full of glowing objects. “Our IKEA house will shine like the sun. No darkness, no resentful energy, no ghosts. Just lamps! We could banish Wen Ning’s shadows in an instant.”

Lan Wangji set down the lamps he’d confiscated earlier and said firmly, “No.”

Wei Wuxian’s pout was monumental. “Lan Zhan, you’re crushing my artistic vision. What’s a household without ambience?”

Lan Wangji didn’t answer, but when Wei Wuxian turned away, he quietly allowed one small lamp to remain in the basket.

The storage section was next.

Wei Wuxian peeked around a shelf, eyes glinting mischievously. “Lan Zhan, I dare you to fit inside one of these wardrobes.”

“No.”

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian insisted, already tugging open the door. “Come on! You’d look majestic emerging from it, like a cultivation Narnia! The juniors would lose their minds.”

Lan Wangji closed the wardrobe door without a word.

Undeterred, Wei Wuxian climbed into a different one himself. He pulled the door shut, then burst it open dramatically. “Ta-da! I am IKEA Emperor Wei, conqueror of arrows and devourer of meatballs!”

Customers applauded.

Lan Wangji stood at his side, face unreadable. “Ridiculous.”

Wei Wuxian bowed. “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all day—or until the employees drag me out.”

Eventually, they reached the mirror displays.

Wei Wuxian immediately posed in front of a tall one, shark tucked under his arm. “Lan Zhan, look! Don’t we look like a proper couple? Handsome cultivator and his devilishly charming partner, shopping for modern Swedish décor.”

Lan Wangji’s reflection stared back, flawless as ever. Wei Wuxian leaned closer to the mirror and squinted.

“Hmm. Do you think this mirror makes me look taller?”

“No.”

“Yes, it does,” Wei Wuxian said decisively, striking another pose. “Tall, handsome, and holding a shark. Truly the image of a modern cultivator.”

Lan Wangji walked away. Wei Wuxian scampered after him, still giggling.

The cafeteria lured them back for “dinner.”

Wei Wuxian piled his tray high again—meatballs, cake, lingonberry jam, soft-serve ice cream. He grinned across the table at Lan Wangji, who had selected a modest plate once more.

“You’re so restrained, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said, stabbing a meatball with his fork. “If I had your self-control, maybe I wouldn’t have accidentally burned soup that one time.”

Lan Wangji’s gaze was steady. “You burned water.”

Wei Wuxian slammed his hands on the table. “It was a complex spiritual reaction! Very advanced!”

“Ridiculous,” Lan Wangji murmured.

Wei Wuxian fed another meatball to a shark. “Don’t listen to him, A-Yuan. Papa Wei is a culinary genius.”

After dinner, chaos reached its peak.

Wei Wuxian discovered a stack of bedding sets and decided it was the perfect time to build a “night-hunt camp.” He piled duvets, arranged lamps like talismans, and declared the surrounding space a ghost-infested battlefield.

“Lan Zhan!” he cried, wielding a rolled-up blanket like a sword. “The resentful spirits are everywhere! Quickly, we must defend the IKEA sect!”

Lan Wangji sighed, but when Wei Wuxian thrust a pillow into his hands, he caught it without hesitation.

“Defend yourself, Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian shouted, launching himself forward.

The resulting pillow duel drew a crowd of spectators. Children squealed with delight, adults chuckled, and several phones captured the scene. Wei Wuxian attacked with wild enthusiasm, while Lan Wangji parried with calm, precise strikes.

Finally, Wei Wuxian collapsed in mock defeat, sprawled dramatically across the duvets. “Ah! Struck down by my own husband. Tragic! The IKEA sect mourns its leader.”

The crowd clapped. Wei Wuxian raised a hand weakly. “Thank you, thank you. Donations of sharks and lamps are accepted.”

Security eventually arrived.

Two uniformed guards approached, looking weary but polite. “Gentlemen,” one said, “we’ve had… numerous reports about your activities. You can’t keep rearranging the displays, and you definitely can’t stage battles in the bedding section.”

Wei Wuxian sat up, all innocence. “But sir, we were defending IKEA from resentful spirits. Very noble of us, don’t you think?”

The guard sighed. “Please finish your shopping and head toward the checkout.”

Wei Wuxian gasped. “Checkout? Already? But we haven’t tested the curtains yet!”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said firmly.

Wei Wuxian wilted, then leaned toward the guard conspiratorially. “Fine, but can we at least take the sharks? They’ve bonded with us.”

The guard blinked, unsure how to respond. Lan Wangji placed a hand on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder and said, “We will purchase them.”

Wei Wuxian lit up instantly. “See, Lan Zhan loves them too!”

As they reluctantly made their way toward the exit, Wei Wuxian continued to chatter nonstop.

“Lan Zhan, admit it. You had fun. I saw you swing that pillow with martial precision! You’re a natural IKEA warrior.”

“No.”

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian said cheerfully. “Don’t be shy. The IKEA sect welcomes all. Even stoic cultivators with lamp allergies.”

Lan Wangji didn’t reply, but when they reached the checkout, he quietly placed both sharks on the conveyor belt.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes widened, and then he broke into the brightest grin of the day. “Lan Zhan… you softie.”

Lan Wangji ignored him, but the corners of his mouth twitched.

Wei Wuxian hugged the sharks to his chest, triumphant. “Empire or no empire, at least our family survives!”