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Chapter Text

Lan Jingyi had not meant to eavesdrop.

But the break room was small, and Hanguang-jun’s phone call was… impossible to ignore.

“…Lan Zhan, I’m warning you,” came a cheerful voice through the speakerphone. “If you don’t come home early tonight, I’m leaving.”

A pause.

“And I’m taking the kids with me.”

Lan Jingyi, frozen halfway through pouring tea, nearly dropped the teapot.

The call continued, completely oblivious to the existential crisis brewing behind the tea counter.

“I’m serious. They miss you. I miss you. This isn’t sustainable. I’m making a healthy choice and walking away.”

Lan Wangji’s tone, calm as a winter river: “Mn. There is no need.”

Jingyi’s brain: short-circuiting.

Was Hanguang-jun… married? With children?? Since when? He had never heard a whisper of it in the sect. Or anywhere, really. But that was exactly the kind of secretive romantic life someone like Lan Wangji would have, wasn’t it?

Jingyi’s hand trembled. Tea sloshed onto the counter.

Lan Wangji’s voice again, quiet but warm. “I will return by six.”

“And you’ll stop by the store for the things I told you?”

“Mn.”

“Good. Love you.”

And then, without waiting for a response, the caller hung up.

Jingyi stood there, tea forgotten, heart pounding. He needed to tell someone.

Chapter Text

Which was how Lan Jingyi ended up dragging Ouyang Zizhen into the break room during lunch.

“Zizhen,” Jingyi hissed urgently, “listen to me. Hanguang-jun is married .”

Zizhen blinked. “Wait, what?”

“He even has children! He has a whole hidden tragic love life, I heard it myself!”

“Who- who’s the spouse?” Zizhen asked, already emotionally invested.

“I don’t know, I just heard a phone call. The spouse sounded very tense. ‘Come home early or I’m leaving and taking the kids,’ that’s what they said!”

Zizhen’s eyes widened. “Holy shit. Hanguang-jun is living a hidden drama.”

“Exactly,” Jingyi said grimly. “And it may not be a very happy one.”

~ ◊ ~

Later that afternoon, they stopped by Lan Wangji’s office under the pretense of delivering a project update.

They were halfway through a respectful bow when the office door swung open and a man stormed in- black hair tied loosely with a red ribbon, grey hoodie slightly damp from the rain outside, phone in one hand and a large canvas tote slung over the other shoulder.

“Lan Wangji!” the man announced, exasperated. “I asked you to put those photos away!”

Lan Jingyi and Ouyang Zizhen froze mid-bow.

Lan Wangji, seated behind his desk, looked up with that same quiet patience, tone softening inexplicably. “Wei Ying.”

The man- Wei Ying, apparently- marched over and plopped the tote dramatically onto the desk. “You left them on the kitchen counter. Again. We are not discussing It ever again, no matter what. I apologize and you refused to accept the apology, and that’s that.” Neither acknowledged the presence of the interns in the room.

“Mn. If Wei Ying insists. What about the children?”

“I spoke to Wen Qing about leaving them with her when we leave tomorrow.”

“...Wen Qing. I see.” Something in Lan Wangji’s voice dipped just slightly, and to Lan Jingyi’s experienced ears, it was…off. Like restrained displeasure, or forced composure. Like the polite mask someone wore when their in-laws were being mentioned, or, worse … like when a cheating spouse mentioned their new fling. Something lit up in the dark room of Lan Jingyi’s mind.

“And I’m still mad about the photos,” Wei Ying added, scowling. “What if someone had seen them?”

Lan Jingyi looked wide-eyed towards Ouyang Zizhen, finding him already looking back with a mirrored wide-eyed stare.

Was this affectionate bickering or a passionate couples’ argument? What was this talk about a Wen Qing? Secret photos? Children? They weren’t stupid- it was all adding up. And it was bad .

“Anyway,” Wei Ying sighed, ruffling through the tote. “I brought you lunch. Oh- don’t forget, we need to leave early tomorrow, or your uncle will have at me again about being a disgrace to the family.”

“Mn.”

“And I’ll be borrowing your shampoo. Mine’s finished.”

Lan Wangji nodded.

Lan Jingyi and Ouyang Zizhen bowed out of the room in stunned silence since it didn’t seem like they were being paid attention to.

They only made it halfway down the corridor before Ouyang Zizhen grabbed Lan Jingyi’s arm. “Okay. I think I have it. They definitely live together- ”

Lan Jingyi nodded. “- Right, obviously. He mentioned ‘the’ kitchen counter, brought lunch for Hanguang-Jun, and casually mentioned he’d borrow his shampoo - which means they’re sharing a bathroom and that means they’re engaging in domestic cohabitation!”

“And he was holding a tote bag,” Ouyang Zizhen added. “That had to be a care package. Definite spouse behaviour.”

“And photos,” Lan Jingyi added. “ Scandalous photos. Some kind of past incident Wei Ying refuses to talk about? Hanguang-jun looked… sad, didn’t he? He didn’t look much different than usual but everything about him seemed to have…wilted, a little.”

“Exactly! And the children - do you think there’s some sort of a custody arrangement? He’s planning to leave the kids with Wen Qing tomorrow. Hanguang-Jun didn’t seem to be very pleased about that. Does he not like her?”

“But Hanguang-Jun dislikes no one! He’s even patient with the extremely fussy, fickle clients that no one likes to put up with. So then, if it’s not about their personality, whom would Hanguang-Jun automatically dislike?”

“Oh. Oh. Oh no. ” Ouyang Zizhen looked sick.

“What? What is it, Zizhen?”

 “Do you think she’s the…mistress? The- the photos? Were they of Wei Ying and her? Didn’t Wei Ying say Hanguang-Jun refused to accept his apology?” Ouyang Zizhen looked horrified as he said it out loud. “And Wei Ying is leaving the kids with her?”

“Oh my god,” Lan Jingyi whispered. “Do you think they’re going to get a divorce?”

“But then why did Wei Ying bring lunch?” Ouyang Zizhen frowned. “Would you bring lunch to someone you were divorcing?”

“Maybe it’s complicated,” Lan Jingyi said solemnly. “Maybe they’re trying to make it work for the kids, but it’s not a happy marriage.”

“And an arranged marriage,” Ouyang Zizhen muttered. “I mean, Hanguang-jun is rich, he’s a Lan- probably married off to stabilize some family alliance.”

“It would explain why he’s always so quiet,” Lan Jingyi agreed, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “He’s the typical heartbroken husband.”

Ouyang Zizhen inhaled sharply. “We need to be discreet, for Hanguang-Jun’s pride, we can’t let on that we know. And supportive.”

Lan Jingyi nodded with all the grim solemnity of a soldier before battle. “For Hanguang-jun.”

Chapter Text

Lan Sizhui had impeccable timing, in the worst possible way.

He had gone to the break room only to overhear Hanguang-jun on a call again- voice as calm as ever, tone even softer than usual.

"Yes… I understand… But I can’t reschedule the meeting… Yes, you can call Wen Qing if you’re that upset… No, I simply do not wish for you to be stressing like this…"

Sizhui nearly dropped his notebook. He could hear faint complaining on the other end of the line, a man’s voice- but muffled. Was this the infamous spouse Jingyi had mentioned?

Later that evening, Sizhui returned to the intern group chat with the dreaded update:

Sizhui: “I overheard a call today. They’re fighting again. Hanguang-Jun said he had to work and Wei Ying said he’d call Wen Qing. And Hanguang-Jun just let him!”

Cue an emergency gathering after work, where the three convened at a small café with grave expressions.

Jingyi leaned in, voice low. “Okay. So, we know he’s married and it’s not a happy marriage. Zizhen and I heard them fight in person.”

Zizhen added, “He brought lunch though. And mentioned the children.”

Sizhui, visibly pained, whispered, “And now he’s been openly mentioning calling Wen Qing, too.”

Jingyi’s expression darkened. “It just keeps getting worse.”

“First his shamelessness about the photos, then leaving their children with the mistress on their day out, now threatening Hanguang-Jun by directly saying he’ll call her?,” Zizhen muttered grimly. “No wonder Hanguang-jun’s been working overtime- he’s probably trying to distract himself.”

“He’s too perfect,” Jingyi said bitterly. “Trapped in a political marriage, enduring it all in silence for the sake of the family name.”

Sizhui nodded solemnly. “And yet, despite everything, Hanguang-Jun is still so kind. Even when his spouse is rude, even when he’s quite obviously and openly cheating- or threatening to cheat, Hanguang-jun just… takes it.”

“Not to mention how considerate he is to the interns,” Zizhen said, eyes glistening with admiration. “And he’s been working late most nights, waiting for all the employees under him to wrap up their work before he leaves. That’s dedication.”

Jingyi slammed his hand on the table. “We need to do something to support him. To let him know he doesn’t need to suffer in silence.”

“Hanguang-Jun deserves happiness,” Sizhui said fiercely.

“Down with the cheating husband,” Zizhen agreed, eyes flashing. “Free Hanguang-Jun to find his true love!”

They raised their cups of bubble tea in solidarity. Their righteous mission had begun.

Chapter Text

“You know what we need to do?” Lan Jingyi declared, slamming a folder onto his desk with far more passion than the HR training material inside warranted. “We show him that someone appreciates him.”

“But how? Doesn’t he already know we appreciate him?” Ouyang Zizhen asked, uncertain.

“No, we need to make it clearer. With a gift! What does Hanguang-Jun like?”

“...Tea?” Lan Sizhui offered.

“Then let’s get him tea! No, bubble tea!!” Jingyi exclaimed, eyes shining. “He’s probably never tasted rebellion before- well, that’s about to change.”

Sizhui looked at Jingyi with the awe of a Song dynasty soldier looking upon General Yue Fei. He would never have thought of this himself. He was so glad to have friends like these.

~ ◊ ~

The next day, Zizhen arrived at the office half an hour early with an assortment of flavors (“Just in case he has preferences!”), and the trio marched to Lan Wangji’s desk with all the seriousness of envoys bearing tribute to a warlord.

Hanguang-Jun blinked once. “ ...I do not drink coffee.” There was a hint of a question in his voice.

“It’s not coffee,” Sizhui said quickly. “It’s… tea.”

“With boba,” Zizhen added, practically sparkling with hope.

Lan Wangji accepted the cup slowly, watchfully, like it might detonate in his hand. He took one long sip. 

The three interns watched. 

Lan Wangji swallowed.

 “...It is sweet.”

Jingyi made a strangled noise of triumph.

~ ◊ ~

Later that afternoon, their “surveillance operation” (read: Jingyi lying flat behind a big white pot with a fake plant with his phone camera peeking out from the side zoomed into a tiny gap through desks and office shades that let them catch a glimpse of Hanguang-Jun’s left ear) paid off.

“I tasted bubble tea today,” Lan Wangji was saying. Measured, yet somehow… triumphant.

From the speaker came Wei Wuxian’s scandalized voice: “You what? Lan Zhan, you’ve never had it before? With that sweet tooth of yours? If I’d known, I would’ve personally documented the moment! Tragic. Utterly tragic. My life’s greatest regret.”

“Uncle would not have approved of unhealthy and excessive things when I was younger,” Lan Wangji said evenly. Then, after a pause so striking it could have cleaved mountains: “...I am no longer obligated to his preferences.”

The juniors froze.

Jingyi’s phone nearly slipped from his hand.
Zizhen whispered, reverent: “That’s it. The shackles have broken. This is his liberation arc.”

Sizhui clutched the armrest of the waiting area chair beside the plant. “He’s finally putting himself first.”

“It’s working,” Jingyi whispered. “Our efforts are working.”

~ ◊ ~

The very next day, their zeal had not dimmed- in fact, it had doubled.

Normally, the weekly reflection sheets were a joke. Jingyi wrote two lines of nonsense (“I reflected on how my reflection in the bathroom mirror looks very handsome”), Zizhen copied last week’s answers and changed the date, and Sizhui filled his out properly while trying not to sigh too loudly.

But this time?

This time, when Lan Wangji came around to collect them, he paused. Instead of the usual thin stack, his desk acquired a veritable mountain of papers. Jingyi had written six full pages on “team cohesion and workplace kindness.” Zizhen had stapled together a seven-page handwritten manifesto about “the importance of supporting one’s superiors in difficult domestic circumstances.” And Sizhui, though bewildered, had also written more than usual, swept along by their fervor.

Lan Wangji set the stack down, testingly. It did not scatter apart pitifully like it usually did- it thudded.

~ ◊ ~

And it didn’t stop there. Jingyi and Zizhen, usually allergic to finishing assignments on time, began turning in work early. Then they began finishing each other’s work to compensate for any delays that occurred. And then , with the grim solemnity of monks performing a holy rite (on Zizhen’s part), or the enthusiastic zeal of an English teacher who had decided that this was the year students he would succeed in making students love Shakespeare (on Jingyi’s part), they began… helping other employees finish their work? 

The theory was sound, at least by Jingyi’s standards: if they helped the department clear their tasks faster, then everyone could leave earlier, and if everyone left earlier, then Hanguang-Jun would have no reason to stay late either.

It was, to his credit, surprisingly effective. Jingyi had always been sharp- too sharp, really, in ways that made teachers despair and supervisors groan. But here, unleashed upon overdue data forms, he excelled. What he lacked in composure and restraint, he made up for in sheer audacity, ADHD-fueled work sprees, and clever shortcuts. Zizhen pitched in with a flurry of eager good-will, Sizhui quietly double-checking things to make sure they weren’t breaking any laws.

By four o’clock, the floor was eerily quiet. Employees packed up early, whispering about how efficient the interns were today. Jingyi, working on the last spreadsheet for the day, looked smug. “See? Mission success. He’s going home hours earlier than usual.”

Except… he wasn’t.

The lights were still on in Hanguang-Jun’s office.

Nearly desperate, Jingyi knocked and poked his head in. “Sir? Why are you still here?”

The words came out with all the subtlety of a battering ram. Sizhui nearly fainted, as Zizhen nodded along. You did not demand explanations from Hanguang-Jun of all people.

Lan Wangji looked up, calm as ever. “I have a six o’clock meeting with Nie Corporation. Online.”

There was a long pause. Jingyi blinked at him like he’d just said the moon aliens had bought shares of the company.

Sizhui scrambled for their collective dignity, bowing as if trying to smother the situation with sheer politeness. “Ah. Yes. Of course. Thank you for entertaining us, Hanguang-Jun. Please- take care, and get home safe. Quickly.” He began backing toward the door.

From behind him came Jingyi’s loud whisper: “Why can’t he attend it from home if it’s online?”

There was the sharp smack of Zizhen whacking him with a folder, followed by Zizhen’s horrified hiss: “Stop trying to piss off the wife even worse, honestly, Jingyi!”

Chapter Text

Lan Jingyi had many talents: talking back, falling asleep during briefings, and getting into trouble were at the top of the list. “Suffering nobly for a cause” was… less familiar. And yet, here he was- flat on his bed, sniffling into a tissue box like a tragic scholar-poet, feverish enough to be used as a stove, and afflicted with the most dramatic common cold he’d ever had.

“It’s not overwork,” he rasped weakly at his ceiling, which looked back at him blankly, as ceilings usually do. 

It had started the day before. All they had done was stay late- until, what, six p.m.? It wasn’t even dark out. They’d gone home feeling smug about finishing not only their own assignments, but also covering for half the department in their misguided campaign to “save Hanguang-Jun’s marriage.” It wasn’t actual overwork. But apparently, when you were unused to concentrating on anything for longer than ten minutes, four-plus solid hours of effort was enough to obliterate your immune system.

Now, Zizhen was down with a sore throat. Jingyi himself was burning up.

And that was when his doorbell rang.

Dragging himself up, Jingyi shuffled down the narrow passageway to the door, still wrapped in blanket, and cracked it open- only to freeze. On the other side stood Lan Sizhui, the only survivor of the previous day’s ordeal, politely holding a bag of tangerines. And beside him, grinning like the cat that had not only caught the canary but also forced it to lead him back to its nest of eggs, was Wei Ying.

“Evening!” Wei Ying greeted cheerfully. “I heard one of Lan Zhan’s little ducklings was sick, so I thought I’d tag along. Make sure you weren’t dying on him. Surprise!”

Jingyi’s fever-spiked brain short-circuited. “You- what- ducklings- ”

“Lan Zhan seemed concerned,” Wei Wuxian explained, waving a hand as if that clarified anything. “He looked so gloomy, and, well, he wouldn’t tell me what was wrong- so then I thought- better investigate! And here we are.”

Lan Sizhui, ever the diplomat, added quickly: “Senior Wei happened to be visiting Hanguang-Jun when I left the office, so he… kindly offered to check in as well.”

Wei Ying grinned at him again, before saying “It’s nice to meet you! Properly, face-to-face. I’m Wei Wuxian, but to Lan Zhan, I’m Wei Ying. Do you mind if I come in?”

Lan Jingyi paused. He looked at Wei Ying. He looked at the door frame. That was the Wei Ying, and that was his doorframe and that was Wei Ying framed by his doorframe and he wasn’t dreaming.

This was it. The villain had come straight to his door. His boss’s cheating spouse- looking relaxed, smiling, bringing fruit. Or accompanying his friend who was bringing fruit- unclear.

“You- ” he croaked, finger trembling in Wei Wuxian’s direction. “You’ve got some nerve showing up here.”

Sizhui's eyes widened. “Jingyi!”

But the fever had lowered Jingyi’s inhibitions to sub-basement levels, and now the dam broke.

“How could you,” Jingyi burst out, voice cracking. “How could you do that to Hanguang-Jun? Do you even see him? He’s the kindest person in the whole world! He never even gets mad. He’s so patient, he even forgave me when I accidentally deleted that whole spreadsheet and replaced it with memes- do you know how long that must have taken him to fix?! And he still told me I did well in training last week! And- and he loves you, can’t you tell? So why do you have to go and break his heart?”

Wei Wuxian blinked. “...What?”

“Don’t play dumb!” Jingyi snapped, flushed red (fever or fury, unclear). “We hear you yelling at him over the phone all the time! He just sits there and takes it like a saint, and then- then he tells us you’re fine! He covers for you! And you- ” his voice wobbled, the righteous fury of a martyr bubbling out- “you don’t deserve him!”

Sizhui made a strangled noise. “Jingyi- please stop- ”

But Jingyi was unstoppable. “Do you know what we’ve been doing all week? We’ve been working. Working ourselves half to death trying to take things off his shoulders so maybe, just maybe, he could go home early and spend time with you so you wouldn’t fight anymore! And this is the thanks he gets?!”

Silence.

Wei Wuxian stared at him. Then at Sizhui beside him. Then back at Jingyi. Still outside the door of Lan Jingyi’s apartment.

Inside his head:
One: What the actual hell are they talking about?
Two: Wait, did he just say Lan Zhan loves me?
Three: No, no, go back- did he just accuse me of CHEATING?
Four: Ohhhhh. Oh. Oh?

And then Wei Wuxian started laughing.

Not just laughing- bent double, wheezing, half-choking on his own mirth. “Oh my- if only Lan Zhan could hear this- !”

Jingyi blinked, affronted. “It’s not funny!”

“It’s hilarious,” Wei Wuxian gasped, wiping tears from his eyes. “You think- I’m his husband?”

“Cheating on him doesn’t make you not his husband! Unless- unless you’re already planning to divorce him?” 

Sizhui let out a silent gasp, rushing to say, “Jingyi, it is not our place to- “

“How could you be so cruel?!” Jingyi went on, now trembling all over as though he were channeling the rage of generations. “Can’t you at least give him a chance? He works so hard! He’s- he’s perfect! And you just- ” He broke off in despair, muffled by his own blanket as he collapsed onto the wall beside him. “Unbelievable.”

Wei Wuxian clutched his stomach, barely able to breathe. “Lan Zhan- oh no, this is too good—”

Sizhui pinched the bridge of his nose, silently calculating whether it would be worth it to apologize to Hanguang-Jun preemptively, or just fake his own death and vanish into the mountains forever.

Wei Wuxian straightened at last, wiping at his face, still hiccupping with laughter. “Oh heavens. So that’s what you’ve been doing? That’s why you suddenly became model employees?”

Jingyi, glaring from the depths of his blanket cocoon, snapped, “Stop mocking us!”

“I’m not mocking!” Wei Wuxian protested- but the glint in his eyes said otherwise. “I mean, it’s very touching, isn’t it? So concerned for poor Lan Zhan, trapped in a tragic marriage with his terrible, heartless spouse…” He raised a hand to his forehead and staggered dramatically against Sizhui’s shoulder. “My beloved husband, so noble, so long-suffering, and me- cruel, fickle, screaming at him between scandalous affairs- what a villain I am!”

“Exactly!” Jingyi shouted, instantly falling for it.

“Jingyi,” Sizhui groaned, low and desperate, “please stop talking.”

Wei Wuxian turned the full beam of his grin on them both. “Tell me, do you also take turns hiding outside the office to overhear us? Do you make notes about how tragic he sounds?”

Jingyi froze. Sizhui went very still. Zizhen, if he’d been present, would probably have tried to- no, if emotionally mature Zizhen was here, they definitely wouldn’t be in this situation. Probably. 

“Oh, you do.” Wei Wuxian’s eyes sparkled. “Lan Zhan would be so embarrassed if he knew.”

Sizhui finally found his voice, bowing hastily. “Senior Wei, there’s been…a misunderstanding. I promise we’ll explain- ”

But Jingyi cut him off, practically wailing, “So you admit it! You admit you’re cheating on him and  torturing him on purpose!”

Wei Wuxian blinked. Then, with a straight face that lasted all of three seconds, he said, “Cheating? Oh no. No, no, no. To cheat, we’d have to be married, wouldn’t we?”

The silence that followed was so dense it could have been bottled and sold as a landmine.

“…You’re not?” Jingyi croaked.

“Nope. Just roommates.” Wei Wuxian bit back another laugh at the look on Jingyi’s face. “You should see your expression right now. Priceless.”

Jingyi gaped. “But- you live with him. You fight like a married couple. He lets you into his office! Why aren’t you married?”

Wei Wuxian’s mouth twitched, caught between delight and something softer. “That’s…a very good question,” he said at last, a little too quiet. Then, brightly: “But one for another day! For now, how about I make you tea before you pass out? You look like a little tomato peeking out of a burrito wrap.  I’d offer soup but that’s really my A-Jie’s thing and I might end up killing you accidentally.”

Jingyi, feverish and scandalized, could only whisper, “Unbelievable…” again, as Wei Wuxian swept past him into the apartment like he owned the place, rambling all the while.

Sizhui followed, already wondering how he was going to explain this entire disaster to Zizhen and how they were going to face Hanguang-Jun the next day.