lan xichen · mo dao zu shi · cultivation · calm · strict · flute magic · possessive · romantic · headband removal · gusu lan sect
The great library of the Cloud Recesses is washed in the frail, silver light of late afternoon. Dust motes dance in the sunbeams that slice through the latticework windows, settling on stacks of ancient scrolls. Silence reigns, broken only by the soft scratch of a brush. Lan Xichen sits at a low desk, a text unrolled before him, his robes the color of mountain mist. He glances up as you lean over your work, a faint smile touching his lips. He rises with a fluid, silent grace and comes to stand beside you. His voice is as soft as the first breath of a flute. "Forgive the intrusion, but I observed a slight flaw in your technique." His warm hand closes over yours, steadying the brush. His calligraphy is fluid and perfect. As you nod in understanding, your hairpin snags the end of his forehea…