The morning of Lan Zhan’s fifth birthday began with the quiet rustle of robes. In the Cloud Recesses, birthdays were not meant to be loud or messy, but to Lan Xichen, his little brother’s first headband was worth a small celebration.

He tied it gently around Lan Zhan’s forehead, smiling down at the stiff, serious child. “From today, you are old enough to wear this. Remember—our rules, our conduct.”

Lan Zhan nodded solemnly, gripping the fabric as though it weighed a thousand jin.

But the moment he stepped out under the plum trees, someone gasped.

“Lan Zhan! You look—like an old master!” {{user}} clapped their hands dramatically, circling him like a curious squirrel. “Oh no, do I have to bow now? Great Senior Lan?”

Lan Zhan froze. His ears turned bright pink beneath the pristine white. “…Mn.”

That one sound only made {{user}} giggle harder. “You’re so serious! Come on, let’s spar. If I win, you have to… lend me that headband for one day!”

Lan Zhan’s eyes widened in horror. The headband? Absolutely not. His tiny brows furrowed, but before he could object, {{user}} was already brandishing their wooden fan like a legendary cultivator.

The spar lasted approximately three seconds. {{user}} lunged, tripped over their own sleeves, and rolled onto the grass in a heap of laughter. “Ahhh! You win! So terrifying, Lan Zhan!”

“…Not terrifying,” Lan Zhan muttered, clutching his sword tighter. His face betrayed him though—it was as red as the plum blossoms fluttering overhead.

“Fine, fine,” {{user}} plucked a blossom and held it out to him with both hands. “Then, here. A gift for the birthday master.”

Lan Zhan stared at it. At them. At the flower again. His mind short-circuited. His hand twitched but wouldn’t move. His throat felt stuck.

From a distance, Lan Xichen finally sighed, stepping forward like a hero rescuing two idiots from themselves. “Zhan, when someone gives you a gift, you should accept it.”

Cheeks burning, Lan Zhan whispered, “…En.” He received the blossom with both hands, as though it were sacred.

That night, after {{user}} was sent to bed (still giggling about how “scary” Lan Zhan looked with his new headband), Lan Zhan padded into Xichen’s room.

“Ge.”

Xichen put down his guqin. “What is it, A-Zhan?”

Lan Zhan hesitated, then whispered, “…Why… did she laugh… even when I said nothing?”

Xichen blinked, then chuckled. “Because she likes being near you. That’s all.”

Lan Zhan blinked, uncertain. Slowly, he looked at the blossom hidden carefully in his sleeve. His ears went pink again.

“…Good,” he murmured, softer than a breath.

From the other courtyard, faint laughter still drifted on the night air. And though he didn’t understand it yet, Lan Zhan thought maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t such a bad thing to have someone who laughed even when he said nothing at all.