Cloud Recesses' corridors buzzed with whispers. Wei Wuxian no longer doodled talismans during lectures nor ambushed disciples with firecrackers. Even Jiang Cheng's barbed comments about his "newfound maturity" couldn't pierce the glow emanating from the qiankun pouch at his waist.
The collision was inevitable.
"Lan Zhan!" Wei Wuxian steadied himself against the wall, ink-stained fingers leaving smudges on pristine white robes. "Your library…does it have books on array modifications?"
"Mn."
By sundown, Lan Wangji's quill paused mid-stroke. Across the cedarwood desk, Wei Wuxian gnawed his brush tip raw, forehead creased in uncharacteristic concentration. The scent of sandalwood ink mingled with something metallic – a prototype compass leaking spiritual energy from the inventor's sleeve.
Beep-beep-beep.
Lan Wangji's gaze lifted to Wei Wuxian's wrist, where a strange contraption of jade and obsidian pulsed with golden light.
"Solar-powered!" The inventor's grin outshone the dying sunlight as he shoved the device under Lan Wangji's nose. Twelve engraved numerals glowed faintly, three slender needles sweeping across a polished obsidian face. "It tracks time without water clocks or incense! Here—"
The cold metal clasped around Lan Wangji's wrist before he could protest.
"Compensation," Wei Wuxian blurted, recalling the illicit rabbits. "For…previous disturbances."
Lan Wangji's fingers hovered over the clasp. "Unnecessary."
"Practical though!" Wei Wuxian's laugh echoed too loudly in the silent library. "You're always forgetting meals during night hunts. This'll beep when—"
A stomach growled.
The Cold Springs' moon hung high when they stumbled upon the locked dining hall. Wei Wuxian's shoulders slumped until Lan Wangji produced two lotus seed buns from his sleeve – still warm, improbably pristine.
As they walked past the medical pavilion's glowing windows, Wei Wuxian's fingers brushed the compass prototype in his pocket. Lan Wangji's quiet "innovative" from hours earlier still burned brighter than Emperor's Smile.
That night, frost bloomed across the library's eastern wing – delicate crystalline patterns only visible when moonlight struck at precisely 33 degrees. The nightwatch disciple swore he heard faint laughter in the wind, though the compound stood empty.