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eleanorfenyxwrites · 2 years

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Tales from Jianghu Shopping Center

@lansplaining made this post a few days ago reimagining all the Great Sects as shops in a weird roadside strip mall, and weird strip malls are, unironically, one of my favorite things in this world so I had to do this. I had no choice. For Vibe Purposes, I want y'all to know that this is set in the late 90's, early 00's, it barely matters except I think it really gives it a fun nostalgic ~flavor~. (Also I very much have a very specific strip mall that I like in mind for this because I'm normal 😂)

This is currently only a one-shot but I'm in love with this concept and would be happy to do more little one-shot vignettes/headcanons if anyone has anything in mind that they'd like to see! Ask box is always open ♥

[Masterpost] [AO3]

-/-

Lan Wangji stands behind the counter, hands resting lightly on the ever-so-slightly sticky vinyl as he listens to the thrum of the air conditioner lumbering to keep up with the latest midsummer heatwave. Through the windows - beyond the clustered rows of antique bric-a-brac and the glimmering crystal display winking in the blocks of light creeping slowly across the first few feet of the shop - the sun beats down unhindered to bake the blacktop tarmac and the handful of cars parked neatly between the cracking white lines. As he watches, a family of five steps out of a silver-gray van into the shimmering heat and heads across the lot, children’s hands tucked neatly into their parents’ likely-sweaty palms as they head for the corner restaurant a few doors down.

It’s lunch time, and though the strip mall doesn’t see a ton of business during the week, most days there’s always a bit of a bump right around noon, families and dating couples out for a wander passing through to enjoy the Jiangs’ cooking.

Lan Wangji lights a fresh stick of his favorite sandalwood incense and watches the smoke curl lazily up towards the half-length bead curtain clicking gently overhead, swaying a little in the breeze from the AC over the hallway through to the back just behind him.

“Wangji, do you want to take your break?” Lan Xichen asks from the back office, head poked around the door frame. He’s been doing the books and inventory this morning and Lan Wangji doesn’t envy him the job even if it is cooler back there, tucked well away from the sun-drenched front windows as it is.

“No need,” he says simply, the tip of an index finger tapping just once against the vinyl under his hand. “It has been quiet, I am fine.”

“Alright. I’m going to take mine and eat something, take yours when I get back alright? Shufu packed us cold noodles today, they’re perfect for this weather.”

“Mn.”

The smoke continues to curl lazily up towards the ceiling as Lan Wangji watches life go on outside the cool peace of the Cloud Recesses Antiques and Spiritual Supply Depot that’s belonged to his family for a few generations now, through several iterations spanning multiple decades. The air conditioner sputters but Lan Wangji doesn’t spare it a glance. Another family passes their front windows to head for the restaurant, and it’s only a matter of time now before he gets to appreciate his favorite sight of the day.

-/-

“I’m going!!” Wei Wuxian shouts over his shoulder and Madam Yu waves him off impatiently with her usual thunderous frown.

“Go, go!”

“Be careful A-Xian,” Jiang Yanli calls from where she’s standing over her favorite wok, hair pulled back tightly though the heat and humidity of the day - and the busy kitchen - have already coaxed little baby hairs around her ears and at her temples to hang loose around her sweetheart face. “It’s hot today, and people may not be paying as much attention as they should be.”

He gives both his sister and his aunt a salute and his usual wide grin before he hustles out the creaking back door of the restaurant, the storm door slamming shut with a clatter just behind him. The kickstand on his bike is a bit rusty but he knows just how much force to use to get it out of the way once he’s stuffed the crinkling plastic takeout bag into the insulated delivery pouch behind the seat. Not that he really needs the carrying pouch in this weather, he thinks with a sigh, but ah well. That’s the part of the setup that’s got the purple lotus logo, so he’s got to use it either way.

He kicks off from the pavement of the alleyway that burns his feet even through the soles of his sneakers and he’s off like a shot, pedaling furiously to an address he’s delivered to enough times that he hadn’t even needed to check the map back at the restaurant. At the speed he’s going the heat isn’t so bad, the artificial wind of his passing ruffling through his hair and through the gaping, cut-off arm holes of his t-shirt. The red of it is so sun-bleached it’s nearly pink these days and he really only keeps it because it’s the thinnest and therefore the coolest thing he owns for summer day deliveries (and because Madam Yu hates it with a passion).

“That’ll be 13.95,” Wei Wuxian says when he’s reached his destination a few minutes later, and he offers the guy a wide grin when he hands him a ten and a five and tells him to keep the change. “Thanks man, enjoy your meal!”

He hops down the stairs back down to the front walk and gets back on his bike to pedal back to the restaurant, a little less eagerly now that he doesn’t have to worry about delivery time but still more than fast enough to get a good breeze going in an attempt to dry some of the sweat turning his skin powdery with salt.

“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng shouts for him when he’s just about to turn into the parking lot of the strip mall again and he grins at his brother frowning at him in a perfect imitation of Madam Yu.

“Hi A-Cheng - good delivery?”

“Got stiffed on the tip for no damn reason,” Jiang Cheng grumbles as they both pull to a stop in the parking lot and hop off to walk their bikes the rest of the way to the restaurant.

Wei Wuxian pauses as he always does after his first run of the day in front of the window of Cloud Recesses to squint into the welcoming dimness of it and spot Lan Wangji standing primly behind the counter, right where he always is unless on the rare occasion he’s helping a customer. He’s standing there alone today as usual though, so Wei Wuxian cups a hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun as he waves eagerly with the other, bike resting against his hip.

“Would you quit bothering Lan Wangji for one single day of your miserable life?!” Jiang Cheng demands with a shove at his shoulder, but Wei Wuxian ignores him in favor of watching Lan Wangji lift his hand to wave back at him in the cute, shy way he always does. Fingers still pressed tightly together. A tiny left, right, left, and then he puts his hand back down on the counter. It’s so little, but it’s also everything.

“Don’t be jealous just because I got a tip and Lan Zhan likes saying hi to me and nobody else,” he says smugly once they’re on their way back to the restaurant. They cut around the corner of the building to stick their bikes back in the alley before they head inside; Madam Yu’s glare at the both of them where she’s helping Jiang Yanli finish up the next round of dishes is the only thing that saves him from being shoved into a stack of produce crates in retaliation for his needling.

He steps up to the till and punches in the order he’d just delivered, slots the bills into the proper little plastic trays and snags a single from under its clip with a snap of the spring, though he doesn’t bother with the nickel. Jiang Cheng steps up behind him to punch in his own delivery, grumbling as he drops the exact change he’d been given into the proper spots with a rhythmless clatter.

The lunch rush continues just like that, Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng running deliveries as the others run the restaurant. Madam Yu is seating and serving with her usual stern glare - no one dares complain about Jiang Yanli’s perfect cooking with her staring them down. Uncle Jiang, having helped with the prep in the kitchen during the morning, is holed up in the office as per usual. He always says he’s in there doing the books and ordering, but Wei Wuxian wonders how much time he spends in there actually doing nothing but avoiding the sticky bustle of the restaurant in favor of kicking back in front of their ancient window-unit and ducking away from his wife’s glares while she’s otherwise occupied.

Ah well. Lotus Pier Asian Cuisine runs just fine either way, a well-oiled machine full of the smells of home, and when the lunch rush is over he’s happy enough to sit down at one of the tables near the kitchen doorway and roll silverware while Jiang Cheng does the dishes in the back, clanking and splashing and swearing when he thinks Madam Yu can’t hear him where she’s balancing the till with ruthless precision.

-/-

“Huaisang!” Nie Mingjue huffs when Nie Huaisang comes slinking out of the backroom - Nie Huaisang has been ‘reorganizing’ for the last two hour-long classes lest he be dragooned into service. A very strategic move on his part, he thinks, since the backroom is where they keep the box fan that’s at least better than nothing in the middle of the heatwave currently turning everything – him included - into soup.

“What is it, da-ge?” he asks and fans himself with the silk folding fan he’d picked up in Cloud Recesses and started carrying around a few days ago. It smells like it used to be in an old lady’s house but he doesn’t care if it still smells like mothballs and incense - it gets the air in front of his face moving so it’s an automatic win.

Nie Mingjue stops in the middle of the wrestling mats, bare feet sticking audibly to the vinyl when he lifts them and Nie Huaisang can’t help but wrinkle his nose. Their AC went out three days ago (hence the desperate search for a fan at Cloud Recesses), and while any sane person would see that as a sign to close up shop until it can get repaired, his brother doesn’t apparently see the wisdom in taking a rest. He’s drenched in sweat from the mid-afternoon boxing class and apparently unfazed by that fact, so very unlike Nie Huaisang’s wilting exhaustion that kicks in the moment the temperature creeps above a nice comfy 75. Considering the weather guy on the local community radio station said it’s ‘a sizzling 98 today!’ - in the shade - he’s far over his threshold for any work to be done. A tragedy, really, but one he’s powerless to stop. Oh well.

“Can you go over to Xichen’s and see if they’ve got any water in their fridge? We’re all out.”

“They’ve always got a whole tower of 24-count packs in the back,” Nie Huaisang huffs. “Can’t you just call him and ask him to bring a flat over?”

“I said in their fridge, A-Sang, come on,” Nie Mingjue growls and goes back to picking up the scattered body-pads off the floor, each step on the black mats still sounding like someone starting a fresh roll of masking tape. “I’ve been sweating my ass off out here, just go get me some cold water!”

Nie Huaisang feels the tiniest pang of guilt at that, and despite his hatred for the sun burning so hot it’s white outside he sighs and nods. Nie Mingjue goes back to clearing up with some more grumbling, and when Nie Huaisang finally manages to force himself to step outside with a jingle of the bell over their door he leaves Nie Mingjue furiously wiping down sweat-drenched exercise equipment with the strong smelling anti-bac spray that always makes Nie Huaisang’s throat tickle.

The fresh air when he steps outside is actually kind of nice, even if it feels like it singes his nose hairs off on its way down to his lungs. At least the air out here is moving a little, faint gasps of a breeze ruffling his sweat-stringy bangs against his forehead as he tries to keep to the shade under the awning even though it’s a losing battle this time of day. He waves at the Jiang siblings rolling silverware before the dinner crowd shows up on his way past the front windows of Lotus Pier, and studiously avoids looking into the front window of Golden Carp when he passes it next - no one wants to see Jin Guangshan if they don’t have to, and it’s not like Jin Zixuan’s stupid frown is much better.

“Oh sweet god, air conditioning!” Nie Huaisang sighs in heavenly relief the moment he steps into Cloud Recesses, dim and cool after the glaring brightness of the parking lot.

“Hello Huaisang,” Lan Xichen says warmly from where he’s sitting on the stool behind the counter flipping through what looks like an order catalog for at-home gym equipment. Why he would bother when their gym is right there, he has no idea, but whatever, not his place to judge.

“Hi er-ge,” he sighs with a particularly pathetic flutter of his fan that earns him a smile that’s equal parts amused and sympathetic.

“Still no luck with your air conditioning?”

“No one’s even been out to look at it yet, but da-ge swears he called somebody. I don’t know why he doesn’t just close until it gets fixed - I mean I know hot yoga is a thing but who wants to run around doing dumb exercises or boxing class with da-ge in a sauna?!”

Lan Xichen tuts at him and smiles again as he flicks his catalog closed. “A-Sang, you know Mingjue can’t just close down, especially not if he’s going to have to pay up front for the unit to be repaired,” he chides. “Though I do recognize that it must be very draining to be without cool air right now and closing is an attractive alternative in that respect. Would you like some water?”

“Yes, thank you er-ge!” Nie Huaisang huffs as pathetically as he can. “And can I have some to take back to da-ge too? He said we’re out-”

“I can take it,” Lan Xichen says too quickly to be totally casual, but far be it from Nie Huaisang to interfere in whatever that is. “You sit here in the cool and drink this - slowly! Don’t make yourself sick, just take your time.”

Nie Huaisang hops up on the newly-vacated stool with a pleased smile and a little kick of his feet as Lan Xichen sets a bottle of water in front of him next to their ancient – antique, they always correct him- cash register.

“Thanks er-ge.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll take Mingjue some water and stock up your fridge with more. When you’re finished with yours stay here until you’ve finished cooling off, no need to rush. I can help him until you’re ready to head back over.”

Nie Huaisang hides the urge to laugh behind his mothball fan and waves Lan Xichen out of the store with his armload of water bottles. He watches the man cross the parking lot to the Unclean Realm Fitness Center, sitting in lone, separate splendor caddy-corner to the Jiangs’ restaurant at the short end of the parking lot, and he wonders how in the world he doesn’t seem fazed at all by the heat turning the foot or two of air above the pavement into a shimmering mirage.

“Huaisang.”

“Wangji! Fuck!” Nie Huaisang yelps, heart hammering as Lan Wangji slips out of the back office and shuts the door quietly behind himself. “You need to start wearing a bell or something!”

“No need.”

Nie Huaisang grumbles around the mouth of his water bottle and fans himself as Lan Wangji steps up next to him to stand at the counter, hands resting lightly on the marble-patterned vinyl covering the battered wood top. A corner of it is peeling up near the register and Nie Huaisang wonders how Lan Wangji can stand here all day long and not pick at it.

“Er-ge just went over to the gym,” he says when the silence goes on too long. “Da-ge needed water.”

“Mn.”

They lapse back into silence then and Nie Huaisang pouts a little as he sighs, looks around the familiar interior of Cloud Recesses. There doesn’t seem to be anything new since he was in to buy the fan. The same crystals are displayed in the windows and in the glass case that makes up the body of the checkout counter. The same type of incense they usually put on is burning in the little dish beside the register, more scents displayed in a rack full of tidily stacked little boxes on the other side of it. The shelves in the middle of the floor and along the two side walls are laden with the usual selection of antiques : rusting tableware, random bits of kitschy crockery that look like they were last used in the 70’s, stained and/or creepy dolls, old photos of people who are probably long gone in poorly-fitting frames, small art or craft pieces from local independent makers scattered throughout the junk like pearls to be sold on consignment. The side-room behind its gauzy blue curtain is stuffed to bursting with meditation books and floor cushions, more crystals with little price tag stickers scattered on every flat surface.

He’s distracted from his lazy study of the shop by a flash of purple and red on the other side of the windows and he and Lan Wangji watch together in reverence as the Jiang brothers walk past, Wei Wuxian gesturing expansively and Jiang Cheng’s brows down like he wants to be pissed even though he’s smiling just a little at whatever it is his brother is saying.

They sigh in tandem - Lan Wangji nearly inaudible and Nie Huaisang dramatic enough for both of them - and turn their heads to watch the pair of them walk across the length of the storefront.

“Well. I should probably get back to da-ge,” Nie Huaisang says once they’re gone again, probably headed for the convenience store on the other side of the strip mall for some ice cream like usual this time of day.

“They will come back,” Lan Wangji retorts, and to anyone else he’d probably sound like he doesn’t care. Nie Huaisang, who’s known him (somewhat unwillingly) since they were toddlers can hear how anxiously he’s looking forward to it.

“You make an incredible point, Wangji-xiong, and we have to make sure we see them from both directions. The left side might be Wei-xiong’s best, but A-Cheng’s is his right.”

Lan Wangji’s jaw is set mulishly as he glares daggers out at the parking lot. “Wei Ying is beautiful from both sides.”

Nie Huaisang just smirks behind his fan and settles in more comfortably on the stool again - with both Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji encouraging him to stay in the shop (and away from the gym) in their own ways, Nie Mingjue can’t possibly get mad at his extended break, can he?

They lapse back into silence, nothing to break it but the straining AC and the quiet clicking of the bead curtain that hides it. They both perk up - Lan Wangji’s posture straightening even further and Nie Huaisang sitting straight up out of his heat-melted slump - when the Jiang boys jostle back into view a couple minutes later, laughing about something together this time. Jiang Cheng is always more cheerful when he’s had some sugar, Nie Huaisang has noticed over the years.

The gentle electronic chime over the door rings when Wei Wuxian pushes it open and Lan Wangji feels like he was practically carved out of marble beside him.

“Hey Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian chirps, totally at odds with the quietly peaceful aura of Cloud Recesses. “I brought you a present!”

“It’s just ice cream, dumbass, not a new tape of that weird music you both like or something,” Jiang Cheng snorts as he shoulders in behind his brother and Nie Huaisang smiles over his fan as they lock eyes.

“Hi A-Cheng.”

“Huaisang,” he says gruffly, cheeks bright red from the heat and the sun as he ducks his head and runs a hand through his hair, a little sweat-damp from the day.

“Shut up, it’s still a present, I bought it for him with my tips and everything!” Wei Wuxian retorts, undeterred as he bounds up to the counter and holds out a plastic-wrapped popsicle to Lan Wangji, the package covered in condensation just from the short walk back from the gas station. “Go on Lan Zhan, it’s an orange creamsicle! Your favorite.”

“Thank you, Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says with all the gravity of a man whose life has just been saved as he reaches out and takes the popsicle with a quiet crinkling of the wrapper. Nie Huaisang very bravely, very valiantly, does not laugh at his childhood friend as he delicately peels the plastic apart and withdraws the popsicle like it’s fucking Excalibur, reverent and awed.

“No problem! Eat it quick, I think it probably already started melting just on the way here. We’ve got to get back to the restaurant but I’ll at least swing by again when you lock up okay? And don’t forget I can walk you home if you want, too!”

Nie Huaisang raises his eyebrows at that. Cloud Recesses closes right in the middle of the dinner rush and the Jiang brothers can usually only come hang out in the store for a few stolen minutes with the rest of them in the evenings, but he supposes Wei Wuxian could probably slip away during a delivery for the amount of time it would take to walk Lan Wangji home. He’d very much like to see what that entails, honestly. These two are the best source of gossip in their social circle, as per usual, and Nie Huaisang loves using his position as Lan Wangji’s only close friend to get all the juiciest bits before everyone else.

“Mn.”

“NIE HUAISANG!” Nie Huaisang jumps right off the stool at the sound of Nie Mingjue’s thundering shout from across the parking lot, perfectly audible through the door Jiang Cheng is still holding open with his shoulder.

“Busted,” Lan Wangji mutters out of the corner of his mouth because he’s secretly a bitch, which is good because Nie Huaisang wouldn’t be able to tolerate his taciturn company otherwise. He swats his friend’s back with his fan as he crosses behind him and then purposely brushes up against Jiang Cheng on his way out the door to slink back across the parking lot to the gym where Nie Mingjue is standing, arms crossed over his chest so he blocks the entire doorway with his bulk. Nie Huaisang laughs uncomfortably and darts a frantic glance at Lan Xichen over his brother’s shoulder but all he finds there is a sympathetic smile - not nearly as helpful as Lan Xichen seems to think.

“What were you doing in the back room while I was running classes?” Nie Mingjue demands the second he’s in earshot.

“I was organizing..”

“Is that why there’s a stack of dirty magazines and a half-eaten bag of potato chips stashed under dad’s old office chair?”

Busted indeed. Nie Huaisang squeaks and turns to run away, but his brother isn’t the best personal trainer this side of town for nothing and he catches him easily, hauling him up under his arm to carry him dangling back into the sweltering heat of the gym, ignoring all his whining protests.

“Sorry A-Sang,” Lan Xichen says as he heads out the door. “Good luck!”

“Five laps around the gym to start with, get going,” Nie Mingjue barks when he drops him rather rudely down onto the mats and Nie Huaisang knows when his efforts will just go to waste. He groans and hauls himself up to get started on the laps, protesting the injustice the whole way even as he starts wondering just why in the hell Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen were tucked so far into the back room that they’d found not only his favorite hiding spot amongst all the old equipment and boxes of exercise tapes, but his entertainment stash too.

Questions for another day, when he’s not about to die of heat stroke and the effort of exercising under his brother’s watchful glare.

-/-

Jin Zixuan rests his elbow on top of a glass case full of diamond engagement rings and doesn’t bother caring about the smudge he’s going to leave on the flawlessly polished surface. There’s no one in the store this afternoon anyway, nothing to keep him company but the humming AC units running full blast and the tinkly canned piano music crackling through the speakers overhead to break up the monotony. For as quiet as the strip mall usually is, during most of the year there’s decent foot traffic through Golden Carp Fine Jewelry - people buying engagement rings, wedding bands, high-end watches for their fathers or their husbands, glittering trinkets for their wives. The cases around the store are stuffed to the gills with tennis bracelets, earrings of all kinds, gold-chained solitaire diamond necklaces, brooches in all sorts of interesting geometric shapes crusted with diamonds and gems of all colors, anything anyone could possibly want.

Jin Zixuan looks out at all of it and sighs again, bored out of his mind. Jin Guangshan is around somewhere and could conceivably come out and catch him slacking off at any moment. That being said, the likelihood of his father stirring himself from his office is hilariously low at the best of times, but especially when the store is empty and there’s no one around to impress. He’s pretty sure if he focused he’d be able to hear him through the closed door of his office, but it’s probably better not to know whatever his father’s getting up to in there.

He watches through the front windows as Lan Xichen makes his way across the parking lot to the Nie gym, and then almost ten minutes later he sees the obnoxious Jiang boys come out of the restaurant next door to go across the mall in the direction of the gas station at the corner like they do most days. He sits up straight for a minute or two just in case Jiang Yanli comes out after them, but when she doesn’t appear he slumps down again, chin in his hand and a bored pout on his lips. If his mother was here she’d scold him for the unbecoming posture, but she’s not so he’s free to look as lazy as he wants as the minutes tick by.

“NIE HUAISANG!”

Nie Mingjue’s roar is loud enough even through the windows and over the ambient noise of the shop to make Jin Zixuan jump and sit up straight again, and he watches with some amusement as the boy in question - the youngest of all of them - goes slinking across the parking lot to Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen, who look like nothing so much as parents about to play good cop bad cop as they discipline their wayward son. The mental image of that amuses him so much that he’s too distracted to notice the Jiang boys coming back before they’re banging hard enough on the window to make him jump all over again. He glares at them as hard as he can manage, but of course Wei Wuxian just laughs and Jiang Cheng flips him off on their way back to the restaurant, popsicles in hand and dripping on the pavement in their wake.

Jin Zixuan settles in again with a huff to glare absently at the red splatters on the bone-white sidewalk from Wei Wuxian’s rocket pop, stark in the late-afternoon sunshine. The light creeps slowly across the cream-colored carpet, blinding and too hot even with both AC’s running full blast; it’s the kind of sunlight that he doesn’t have to even be standing in to feel, the weight of it pressing at the other side of the windows a red-hot collar around his neck, the heat shivers out in the parking lot both beckoning and oppressive at the same time.

He sits up straight again as a young couple wanders past the front of the store hand in hand. They stop in front of the left-hand window to look over the display he’d spent the whole morning adjusting out of lack of anything better to do, their fingertips leaving little smudges on the glass he’d polished as they point and gesture, their conversation inaudible. They move on without stepping inside and Jin Zixuan slumps down again, free hand tapping out a senseless rhythm on the glass with drumming fingertips as the summer slips by one bland, royalty-free song at a time.

-/-

Fifteen minutes before Cloud Recesses closes for the day, Wen Qing slips out of her uncle’s crowded sports bar with no one the wiser to walk quickly through the short alleyway between their back doors. She knocks on it politely, wary as ever that Lan Qiren usually puts in an appearance at the end of the day to check over the sales figures - and sure enough the man himself opens the door with a frown that softens ever so slightly when he sees her (being one of his best students for the entirety of her high school career had gone a long way towards earning his forgiveness for her surname, but she’s not a miracle worker).

“Wen Qing,” he greets in his usual gruff way as he steps aside to let her in. “Don’t distract the boys, they’re doing closing checks.”

“Yes Teacher Lan,” she says and slips into the backroom. He steps around her to return to his desk in the little office, and she continues past him into the shop proper to hop up on the stool behind the counter. There’s a catalog for at-home exercise equipment - the kind of stuff she’d expect to see peddled in the middle of the night on the QVC or something - sitting next to their clunky old brass register so she pulls it closer to flick through it lazily as she waits. She’s usually the first to show up for their nightly meetings so her presence goes unremarked upon by Lan Wangji, who just nods at her on his way to straighten up his already obsessively neat crystal display in the window, everything burnished orange by the slowly westering sun.

“Ah - hello Wen Qing. Are you also here for the air conditioning?” Lan Xichen teases when he spots her through the aisles and Wen Qing smiles just a little - she can imagine everyone’s stopped in at some point today for just that purpose except maybe Jin Zixuan, considering his dad is more than wealthy enough to run their AC into an early grave.

“Just here to supervise the usual loser check-in.”

“Ah yes, of course. I believe the rest will arrive soon.”

As if on cue, the electronic bell over the door chimes its muted three-toned song and Nie Huaisang leans heavily on the handle, panting for breath and so red in the face Wen Qing is actually concerned this time rather than irritated by his over-the-top nature.

“Da-ge is a monster,” he huffs as he shlumps his way into the shop proper to lay himself across the counter. She twitches the catalog away from his sweaty forehead and continues flicking through it, now reasonably assured that he isn’t about to die considering he’s still capable of dramatics. “Qing-jie, please. Please. Tell him I’ll die if he makes me exercise anymore.”

“Not a doctor yet, Huaisang. I can’t offer anyone any kind of medical advice or recommendation,” she says without looking up from her perusal of assorted pilates machines and the rainbow of neon lycra-clad models gesturing to them in all their airbrushed, hairsprayed glory. She flicks to the next page and Nie Huaisang turns his face towards the small breeze of it pathetically.

“Is the old dragon here?”

“Watch your words, Nie Huaisang,” Lan Qiren calls icily, “Or I will show you a dragon.”

“Sorry, Teacher Lan!”

“Before you ask, no I won’t hide you from him-” she jerks a thumb over her shoulder towards Lan Qiren’s draconian presence in the back - “Though I will happily help Teacher Lan hide your body.”

“I do not require assistance murdering Nie Huaisang, Wen Qing, and your willingness to commit a major crime has been noted.”

“Sorry, Teacher Lan,” she turns her head to call, though judging by his unimpressed grunt she knows he can tell she’s not sorry at all.

Wen Qing smirks again as Nie Huaisang whines pitifully into the countertop. Things lapse back into quiet then, likely because Nie Huaisang is too tired to continue his complaining and Wen Qing is uninterested in coaxing him into sharing more of his woes. She’s really only here tonight with news that feels pertinent for everyone to hear, so there’s no use saying anything until they’re all present.

“Hiiii,” Wei Wuxian sings as he sails into the shop a few minutes later, Jiang Cheng hot on his heels. The pair of them are thrumming with their usual keyed up energy, so Wen Qing can only assume it’s a hectic night at the restaurant - either because of a crowd or because of another argument between Madam Yu and Uncle Jiang, the reason hardly matters when the result is the same. “We can’t stay long, jie’s working on orders for both of us to take in the next ten minutes or so and Madam Yu’s on a tear. We still waiting on the peacock?”

“Fuck you Wei Wuxian, I’m right here,” Jin Zixuan says from behind them on the sidewalk just outside the open door, expression sour, and Wen Qing rolls her eyes as they all pile into the shop. The antique cuckoo clock on the wall beside the register sings 7 o’clock, and Lan Xichen smiles indulgently as he turns the lock and flips the sign on the door to ‘Closed’.

“I’ll just head to the back with Uncle,” Lan Xichen tells Lan Wangji - both a statement and a warning to the newcomers that they’re not alone and therefore not free to swear as much as they might otherwise.

“Any news worth sharing?” Wei Wuxian asks as he props an elbow up on the counter on Nie Huaisang’s other side so he can lean in and pat at his sweat-drenched back in rough sympathy.

“New record shop opening Friday,” Lan Wangji says first and Wei Wuxian’s eyes light up - clearly Lan Wangji’s goal judging by his self-satisfied little smirk. Wen Qing barely refrains from rolling her eyes at their blatant flirting that’s only getting worse and worse by the day.

“Yeah?? Lan Zhan we have to go this weekend, okay? Promise!”

“Mn. We can go.”

“Does anyone have anything relevant to everyone?” Jin Zixuan asks a bit sourly, and though usually Wen Qing would find some way to subtly needle him for his attitude, tonight it’s actually helpful.

“I’ve got something,” she says to the room at large and all eyes turn to her, even Nie Huaisang still slumped over the counter. “I overheard Uncle talking to the landlord earlier today. Something about the Changs’ old nail studio next to us, and ah…you guys. Cloud Recesses.”

Lan Wangji blinks at her a few times and then his brows pucker into a frown.

“What about here?” Jiang Cheng asks for him, frowning far more thunderously than Lan Wangji’s perpetually minimal expressions. “What’s Cloud Recesses got to do with the nail salon? Or Uncle Wen for that matter?”

Wen Qing clears her throat delicately, aware of the audience likely (hopefully) listening in from the back, and straightens her shoulders. “I think Uncle wants to buy it out and expand the bar. He definitely wants to knock down the wall to the nail salon to extend the smoker’s lounge, and I think he’d like to buy out Cloud Recesses too.”

Wen Qing shrugs in response to the general cries of outrage around the room at that, plenty loud enough on Lan Wangji’s behalf that he doesn’t even bother opening his mouth.

“Why the f- heck would he want to buy Cloud Recesses? It’s been here forever,” Nie Huaisang asks, finally straightening up from hogging the entire counter to look at her directly. “People love it!”

Wen Qing shrugs again and presses her hands between her thighs to hide how they’re shaking.

“I think he thinks that it’s not a profitable enough business and would be better handled by him.”

She doesn’t have to turn around to know that Lan Qiren has appeared - all of her friends suddenly standing at near-military attention is enough of a hint.

“Wen Qing.”

“Yes, Teacher Lan?” She turns her head to look at him over her shoulder and she’s…relieved to see that he’s frowning, as per usual, but thankfully not like he’s angry at her personally for spreading what technically counts as gossip.

“You heard Wen Ruohan discussing this yourself?” She nods. “Did anyone else hear?”

“A-Ning did. He couldn’t come out with me tonight, but he definitely heard it too. We were doing chores outside Uncle’s office while he was on the phone.”

“Hm.” The room falls silent again as they all watch Lan Qiren think this revelation over, stroking his goatee in a gesture they’re all familiar with as his current (and former, in her case) students. “Bah! Meddlesome fool. I’ll take care of it,” he finally says with an impatient wave. “Go back to lighter topics, children shouldn’t worry about such things. Wangji.”

“Yes, Uncle?”

“Man the store on Saturday until lunch, you may take Wei Wuxian to the record store after you’ve done your duty. Your brother needs the morning off.”

Lan Wangji nods before Lan Qiren turns to retreat back into the dim recesses of the back half of the shop, every inch the wizened dragon returning to his lair, and there’s a beat before Nie Huaisang taps his chin with his closed fan, looking pensively up at the ceiling.

“Huh. Da-ge said just a bit ago that he’s taking Saturday morning off from the gym, too,” he muses. “Weird.”

Wen Qing - who is well aware of which way the wind blows there considering Lan Xichen had been in her class in high school and had been painfully infatuated with Nie Mingjue (two grades their senior) even back then - just keeps her mouth shut and watches her friends try to piece it together over the next couple of minutes until Lan Xichen himself comes out of the back room, red as a tomato, and shoos them all out to head home - or back to work, for her and the Jiang boys.

She can’t quite resist shooting Lan Xichen a knowing Look on her way out onto the sidewalk, and she has to hide a laugh in her hand as she turns away from the sight of him winking and holding a finger to his lips to tell her to keep quiet and not spoil the joke. One thing she can always rely on around these idiots is gossip that’s ridiculous enough to keep her entertained, at least, and she’s already looking forward to the day they all realize what’s going on right under their noses.

And when Lan Qiren quietly takes her aside a few weeks later to reassure her that she doesn’t have to worry about getting into trouble for having told him Wen Ruohan’s plans - nor worry that said plans will come to pass at all - she’s relieved to realize that she can also count on her weird little extended family looking out for her just as much as she tries to look out for them.

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