Archive of Our Own

Snippet 1: - (Inspired from: - https://youtu.be/r9rpSTABp-c?si=QhfDxkOda3gW0oQX

Those who know Bengali can watch it).

The Lan–Wei residence is, on a good day, a circus.
But today, with a fully stocked couch of guests?
It’s a mega-corporate meltdown wearing the polite mask of “family time.”

Lan Shufu was sitting on the single sofa like an emperor, a storm cloud with opinions—back stiff, hands folded, face scrunched like he’s inhaling dirty laundry. Everyone else was sprinkled around like a dysfunctional audience.

On one side was Lan Huan, all calm elegance with his polite smile that said, ‘I am above this nonsense, but also, this is entertaining as hell.’ Jiang Cheng sat beside him, trying to look offended on principle, but the corner of his mouth kept twitching upward.  Jingyi, A-Yuan, and A-Ling were squished together on the rug like a trio of gremlins warming up for mischief. Nie Huaisang fanned himself with his hand with enthusiasm—finally, free entertainment. Jin Guangyao sat perfectly poised, hands in his lap, eyes sparkling like a man watching office politics unfold in real time, and Lan Zhan sat on the far side of the couch, laptop closed now, trying to mask his exasperation.

Lan Shufu was fuming slightly but trying to maintain composure. The tea he had requested ten minutes ago was still absent, and the lingering traces from Wei Ying’s earlier barking session didn’t exactly soothe him.

And then—
Lan Shufu’s voice exploded like a gong being beaten by a vengeful deity: “I asked for tea TEN MINUTES ago! Not TEN YEARS! What is going on in this household?! Does nothing in this household happen on TIME?! WEI YING!”

A-Yuan sighed deeply. “Here we go…”

Everyone prepared.

From the kitchen: BANG
CLANG
SLAM

Wei Ying’s voice bawled back: “COMING, SHUFU! Calm your ancient bones!”

Everyone’s eyebrows shoot up—
Jingyi whispered, “He said ANCIENT—”
A-Yuan smacked his arm, “Shh, it’s just warming up!”

Wei Ying finally stormed in, hair a little frazzled, sleeves rolled up, holding a steaming cup like he’s presenting a sacred relic.

He set it on the side table with a flourish: “Here, Lan Shufu—your tea.”

Lan Shufu snatched it as if it had personally wronged him. “You take ten hours to make a tea. A household cannot be run by people like these!”
He inhaled.
His nose wrinkled.
He took a sip.

His face transformed into the definition of “disgusted beyond divine measure.”

“YUCK—YUCK—! What IS this?! Is this even TEA?! This tastes like drain water!”

And with that, the war began.

A stunned silence.
Then—

Wei Ying’s smile spread, slow and dangerous, like a cat ready to flip an entire table. “Oh? Drain water?” He put a hand dramatically on his heart. “WOW, Shufu… you’ve ALSO tasted drain water? Really… I mean—look at you. You truly have left nothing in this world untasted, it seems.” His voice was sugar and venom in perfect harmony.

The three teenagers immediately fell over each other like bowling pins.

Jingyi wheezed, “YING SHUFU NOOO—”
A-Ling: “YESSSS KEEP GOING!”

Lan Zhan, shifting on the couch, deadpanned, “Perhaps just let him drink it, quietly.”

“Quietly?” Wei Ying shot him a grin. “Oh no, Shufu must know my full reaction.”

Lan Huan coughed into his fist, shoulders shaking.
Jin Guangyao’s lips twitched.
Nie Huaisang openly applauded.

Jiang Cheng muttered, “Finally, entertainment.”

Lan Shufu SLAMED the cup down so hard even Lan Huan twitched. “WEI YING! Do you not know how to talk to your elders?! Is THIS what your parents taught you?!”

Wei Ying’s smile became sweeter, faker, shinier than a corporate HR pamphlet. “Whatever my parents taught me, Shufu, it’s enough to handle people like YOU.”

A-Yuan’s eyes sparkled. Baba’s winning already…

Jiang Cheng snorted.
Nie Huaisang actually had tears in his eyes.
Jingyi whispered, “Write that down—write that down!”

Lan Huan and Jin Guangyao exchanged a knowing look—
The show has begun.

Lan Shufu’s face went red as if the words had scalded him. “THIS! This is EXACTLY WHY one should NOT marry a punkster like YOU! THIS is why this household is DISORDERED! Because of YOU! Because of YOU, MY A-ZHAN has become like this! The LAN family’s name is in dust—because of YOU!”

Lan Zhan, sitting stiffly on the couch, deadpannly murmured: “The family name might survive, but the living room doesn’t stand a chance.”

Wei Ying’s grin widened, passive-aggressive mode activated to 100%. “Oh? Really? Dust?!” He leant forward, eyes blazing with faux searching. “Where where? SHOW ME.” He scanned the room exaggeratedly. “Tell me, Shufu—I’ll bring a scrubber and polish it clean RIGHT NOW.”

The teens collapsed again.
A-Ling kicked his feet in the air.
A-Yuan screamed, laughing, “He’s going to scrub PEOPLE now!”
Jingyi: “Shu gongong’s dead. He’s DONE.”

Lan Shufu sputtered, “YOU—YOU—!”

Wei Ying searched dramatically. “Where is the dust? Come on—point it out! I have the scrubber READY.”

Lan Huan hid his face in his hands.
Jin Guangyao coughed delicately into his hand, but he’s absolutely dying inside.
Nie Huaisang fanned the flames: “Shufu, maybe he really CAN clean it!”

Lan Shufu shook like a leaf in a hurricane. “DO YOU SEE THIS, A-ZHAN? DO YOU HEAR HOW HE TALKS?! He has ALREADY scrubbed off our face and prestige in society! What ELSE do you want, Wei Ying?!”

Lan Zhan: “I… I suggest the scrubber stay in the cupboard for now. Unless someone wants a permanent scouring on the living room floor.”

But Wei Ying tilted his head, mock agreement in his tone. “Ah, THAT explains it. No wonder your face is shining so much today, Shufu! Next time I’ll scrub your hands and legs too!” He bared his teeth slightly in a grin that was all charm and threat. “With the SCRUBBER! The tan will vanish!”

Nie Huaisang clapped wildly.
Lan Huan was smiling politely-but-actually-very-hard.
Jin Guangyao’s shoulders were shaking.

The children were rolling on the floor.

A-Yuan: “Baba no—Baba YES!”
Jingyi: “This is better than TV.”
A-Ling: “Break his ankles NEXT, Ying Shufu!”

Lan Zhan’s shoulders shook slightly—not with laughter, but with second-hand embarrassment. “I… cannot…” he muttered quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Lan Shufu nearly choked. His voice cracked. “A-ZHAN!! A-ZHAN DO YOU HEAR THIS?! WHY DIDN’T I DIE BY DRINKING POISON BEFORE HEARING THIS FROM HIM?!”

Lan Zhan, stoic as ever: “Shufu, please—”

But Wei Ying stepped in immediately. “Poison? You should’ve told me earlier, Shufu! I can bring it IMMEDIATELY!” He tilted his head. “How will you have it? Directly? Or should I mix it in the tea?”

Silence.
DEAD silence.

Then—

The room erupted.

Lan Huan laughed into his palm.
Nie Huaisang screamed.
Jiang Cheng finally gave up pretending and starts cackling.
The children cheered like a crowd at a stadium.
Jin Guangyao, trying not to laugh, muttered: “This is… delicious chaos.”

Lan Shufu just… breathed.
Loudly.
Furiously.

Convulsing with majestic rage.

And that’s where the snippet ends—
With Wei Ying smirking, Lan Shufu vibrating, and the entire household losing the last sliver of dignity they ever had.

~*~

(This part is inspired by: -https://youtu.be/OiSOPksy6zE?si=9FD5ZNbVx8OUjKxB

Those who know Bengali can watch it).

Wei Ying strolled out of the kitchen, wiping his hands like a chef about to receive a Michelin star. He picked up the empty cookie plate from the tea table and beamed at Lan Shufu. “Shufu, how were the cookies? Homemade! Pure love!”

Jingyi: “Ying Shufu’s cookies are LEGENDARY—”
A-Ling: “I had like six—”
A-Yuan: “You had eight. I counted.”
Nie Huaisang: “Wei-xiong ALWAYS cooks well!”
Lan Huan smiles gently.
Jin Guangyao nods like a five-star food critic.

Lan Shufu glared, waving a hand in disgust. “My goodness! Was THAT even edible?! Even dogs won’t eat rubbish like that!”

A-Yuan smirked. “Oh ho, round two?”

Wei Ying blinked sweetly with absolute venom. “Dogs won’t eat… but YOU ate them ALL quite happily, Shufu. See? Not even a crumb is left.”

He lifted the plate dramatically like Rafiki presenting Simba.

Jingyi choked laughing.
A-Ling collapsed sideways.
Lan Huan covered his mouth.
Nie Huaisang was wheezing.
A-Yuan: “BABA PLEASE—” (he’s laughing too much to breathe)

Lan Shufu snapped, “So you want me to waste food?! It couldn’t even be chewed properly!”

Wei Ying gasped loudly. “Oh my? YOU chew everyone’s HEAD just fine, but you can’t chew COOKIES? SHOCKING.”

Everyone lost it.
Jiang Cheng smacked Jingyi’s shoulder for laughing too loudly.
Jin Guangyao hid behind his cup.

Lan Shufu summoned all his ancestors. “How DARE you talk to me like that?! A-ZHAN! DO YOU HEAR THIS?!”

Lan Zhan quietly said, “…Shufu, please lower your voice.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to laugh at Wei Ying’s ridiculous antics.

Nie Huaisang whispered to Jin Guangyao, grinning: “I swear, the way he talks, it’s like watching a sparring match. We should charge admission.”

Jingyi whispered, “Shufu’s about to cry.”
A-Ling: “Not cry. Ascend.”

Wei Ying trembled like he’d been cursed. “OH NO. HE SHOUTED. I AM SO SCARED. LOOK AT MY FINGER—IT SHOOK.”

He wiggled his pinky.
The three kids screamed with laughter.

Nie Huaisang fanned himself with his hand. “This is BETTER than television…”

Lan Shufu went melodrama level 9000. “WEI YING!”

Wei Ying placed a hand over his chest. “I got SO scared that I TREMBLED, Shufu! Look—my nail shook!”

Jingyi: “Ying Shufu STOP—”
A-Ling: “NO, DON’T STOP.”
Nie Huaisang: “Encore!”

Lan Shufu launched into a full tragedy opera: “Do you see A-Zhan how he humiliates me?!  How many days’ guest am I?! You want me to DIE at this age after hearing such things?!”

Lan Huan muttered, shaking his head: “I didn’t expect cookies to turn into a battlefield.”

Wei Ying cut in, voice laced with haughty passive-aggressiveness, “Shufu… with the way you TALK, I don’t think you’re going ‘up’ anytime soon. Even Buddha will say ‘no vacancy. Try again later.’ Even HE will get tired of handling you.”

The room detonated.

Lan Huan wheezed.
Jin Guangyao coughed violently, trying to hide his laughter.
Jingyi wheezed. “Did he just drag Buddha into this?”

A-Ling snickered. “Of course. Extra dramatic effect.”

A-Yuan was laughing on the floor: “Note to self: passive-aggressive superpower—Baba is unstoppable.”

Nie Huaisang was crying-laughing into a pillow.

Lan Zhan blinked slowly as if questioning every life choice.

Lan Shufu, shaking, spat out: “Jiang Cheng is BETTER than you, Wei Ying! At least he RESPECTS me!”

Jiang Cheng, caught off guard, freezes. “EXCUSE ME?! Why am I dragged in?!”

Wei Ying waved a hand. “Of course, he respects you. He doesn’t know how to HANDLE people like you. Not his fault— You steamroll him like a bulldozer.”

Jiang Cheng: “I DO NOT– okay maybe sometimes– BUT STILL!”

Jingyi: “Baba… you ALWAYS get dragged in. Accept destiny.”

A-Yuan: “Cheng Shufu, you’re a recurring character.”

Lan Zhan deadpanned, exasperated: “Perhaps… cookie eating should include a test of tolerance.” His shoulders twitched with laughter he couldn’t fully suppress.

Wei Ying added smugly: “If you got TWO sons-in-law like me, Shufu, you’d be shipped to an old-age home with EXPRESS DELIVERY.”

A-Yuan cheered softly: “Baba wins this round.”

Wei Ying ended with a flourish: “There should always be someone to lick your feet devotedly, Shufu. But it will NEVER be me.”

The living room erupted for the 47th time in 20 minutes.

Lan Shufu vibrated with pure rage.

A-Yuan leant back, arms behind his head, grinning: “Ahh… drama AND snacks. Best day ever.”

~*~

Lan Shufu stood up with a violent rustle of his robes as if the very air in the Lan-Wei residence had personally offended him. He grabbed his cane—not because he needed it, but because it made his indignation louder—and huffed, “I can’t stay here another moment! This… this idiocy! This disrespect! This… Wei Ying-ness! I’m going home!”

Everyone froze mid-snack, mid-sip, mid-gossip.

Jiang Cheng muttered under his breath, “Oh boy… here he goes. Exit of the century.”

Nie Huaisang whisper-shouted, “Quick, someone play dramatic music—he’s about to monologue!” (Oh my God 🤣🤣)

Jin Guangyao calmly adjusted A-Ling’s collar. “Let him. It’s always educational.”

Lan Huan couldn’t even hide his smile. “Ah… here comes the final performance.”

Lan Zhan, long-suffering, long-breathing, long-dead-inside, stood up halfway. “Shufu… perhaps you—”

But Lan Shufu raised a hand like an emperor dismissing an unworthy servant (Wow… Lan Zhan’s now compared to a servant by his own Shufu, not the least). “No! I have endured enough! I will not sit and be insulted in my family’s house! Not another second!”

Wei Ying stood up too—smile angelic, tone sugary sweet, voice sharp enough to slice bamboo. “Aiyooo, Shufu, leaving so soon? You didn’t even finish insulting me properly today! Half-day leave only?”

A-Yuan choked on his juice. Jingyi slapped his knee in pure joy.

Lan Shufu huffed, “Stop talking to me! I don’t want your voice following me home!”

Wei Ying clasped his hands dramatically. “But Shufu… how will you walk on the road without my voice guiding you? Should I record it for you? Daily motivation: ‘Wei Ying exists.’ You’ll walk faster out of anger, good exercise!”

Jiang Cheng actually snorted.

Lan Shufu stomped toward the door. “You—you! Shameless brat! I hope the heavens—”

Wei Ying cut in brightly, “—bless you with peace of mind? Yes, yes, I also hope so! Otherwise, your blood pressure will reach cloud level, Shufu. Take care of your heart! Don’t let me live rent-free there.”

Everyone: OOOOHHHHHHHHHHH

A-Ling whispered, “He’s gonna explode… he’s gonna turn into a firework—watch!”

Lan Shufu paused at the door, turning back dramatically like a hero betrayed by fate. “A-Zhan! You live here with THIS?! How have you not gone mad?!”

Lan Zhan folded his hands politely. “I meditate. A lot.”

Jingyi clapped. “Fair.”

Wei Ying added, leaning casually against the wall, “Also, Shufu, the door is on that side. Don’t take the wrong turn and blame me later, saying ‘Wei Ying misled me again.’ You know, ah? My influence is too strong.”

Lan Shufu, shaking with righteous fury, yanked open the door, snapped, “I will not come here again!”

He expected silence. Fear. Regret. Respect.

What he got instead was Wei Ying stretching his back like a cat, rolling his wrists, and smiling with the serene confidence of a man who has already predicted the weather for the next four seasons. “Aiyoo, Shufu,” he sighed dramatically, “I know the whole rhythm by heart now. You say you won’t come—next month only you’ll end up in my house again.”

The room exploded.

Jingyi fell backwards on the couch, wheezing.
A-Ling slapped his thigh as he’d just watched a comedy show live.
Nie Huaisang: “This is art.”
Jin Guangyao was smiling into his glass like he was witnessing diplomacy at its finest.
Jiang Cheng muttered, “Truth. Pure truth.”

Wei Ying continued, leaning forward with the confidence of a man ready to deliver his TED talk on Shufu Psychology. “No way you’ll let me breathe peacefully so soon, Shufu! I know that! You’ll miss yelling at me too much. Don’t act.”

Lan Shufu choked on nothing. “You—! YOU—!”

Lan Zhan, eyes closed, exhaled through his soul. “Wei Ying…”

“WHAT? I’m encouraging him!” Wei Ying defended with mock innocence. “See how much he visits? If I start believing he won’t come, I might get emotional.”

Nie Huaisang: “Iconic.”

Lan Huan: “I’ve never been this entertained in my life.”

Lan Shufu pointed at the door with enough force to spear it. “I am leaving! Don’t talk to me anymore!”

Wei Ying waved him off. “Go go. Walk safely! And when you come next month, try bringing pineapple cake. At least make the visit productive!”

A-Yuan, clutching Jingyi’s arm, dying of laughter, “Babaaaa stopppp! He’ll explode!”

Jingyi whispered, “Let him, I want fireworks!”

Lan Shufu stormed out, nearly tripping over his own outrage. He flung one final parting shot: “I WILL NOT COME BACK!”

Wei Ying cupped his hands. “LOVE THE CONFIDENCE, SHUFU! SEE YOU BETWEEN THE 10^th AND 15^th OF NEXT MONTH! SAME TIME, SAME ANGER!”

Door. Slam.

Silence.

Then—

Everyone collectively burst into laughter so loud the walls shook.
Lan Zhan slowly sat down, massaging his temples like he needed divine intervention.
Wei Ying flopped onto the couch triumphantly.

“Ah,” he sighed, “finally some peace. For 29 days approximately.”

~*~

The door had barely stopped vibrating from Lan Shufu’s dramatic exit when Lan Zhan turned slowly—slowly enough to qualify as a horror-movie reveal—toward Wei Ying.

Everyone immediately sensed: Ah. A-Die mode activated.

Wei Ying blinked innocently. “What? Why are you looking at me like I stole something?”

Lan Zhan’s voice was calm. Too calm. “Wei Ying… you cannot speak to elders like that.”

A collective gasp from the audience.
This was content.

Wei Ying placed a hand on his chest like a fainting heroine. “Elders? That man? Elders are supposed to bless you, not stress you!”

Jiang Cheng snorted into his tea so loudly he choked.
Jingyi slapped A-Ling’s shoulder: “OH GOD.”

Lan Zhan continued, deadpan. “He is older than you.”

“So is the dust in that corner,” Wei Ying shot back. “Should I respect that too?”

Lan Huan covered his face, shoulders shaking.
Nie Huaisang: “Oh heavens, stop, stop, I can’t—”

Lan Zhan narrowed his eyes just slightly—his version of yelling. “Wei Ying,” he said, voice low, “you provoked him.”

Wei Ying raised both hands. “Excuse me? I? Provoked? He insulted my tea, insulted my cooking, insulted me—if he insulted the house plant one more time, even THAT would have slapped him!”

The guests collectively nodded as if this were credible evidence in court.

Lan Zhan: “Still. You should have remained calm.”

Wei Ying leaned dramatically against the sofa. “A-Zhan, my beloved, my lotus-root chips, how calm do you expect me to be? He said the tea tasted like drain water! DRAIN. WATER. Tell me—how does he even know the taste?”

Jingyi and A-Ling flipped over laughing.
Jin Guangyao sipped his tea elegantly. “To be fair, that was a valid question.”

Lan Zhan rubbed the bridge of his nose. “We are supposed to maintain harmony.”

Wei Ying looked around the room at the giggling chaos. “Is this not harmony? Look—everyone is enjoying! Even the walls are happy!”

Jiang Cheng coughed. “Bro, the walls are traumatised.”

Lan Zhan finally sighed—the kind of sigh that had the weight of ten generations of Lan ancestors. “Wei Ying… please… next time… do not escalate.”

Wei Ying leaned forward, eyes bright. “I didn’t escalate! I retaliated. There’s a difference.”

Lan Zhan: “Not a useful one.”

Wei Ying: “Oh, please, if I didn’t fight back, he’d walk all over me like a doormat! At least this way he leaves early!”

Jin Guangyao raised a hand. “He has a point.”

Lan Zhan stared at all of them like a disappointed HR manager. “And the threats about poison—”

“It was a hypothetical!” Wei Ying protested. “And artistic! And honestly, he started the drama. This is emotional ROI!”

Nie Huaisang wheezed. “Emotional return on investment—Wei-xiong, you are too much.”

Lan Zhan pinched the bridge of his nose again. “You cannot talk about… poisoning him. Directly or indirectly.”

Wei Ying shrugged. “Fine. Next time I’ll just ask him whether he wants sugar or salt. Happy?”

Lan Zhan opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it. Closed it.

A-Cheng whispered loudly, “He broke Lan Zhan. Someone reboot him.”

Wei Ying scooted closer, softened his voice slightly. “A-Zhan… he won’t change. You know that. So let me handle him my own way. He shouts, I shout. He jabs, I jab. Balance of nature.”

Lan Zhan exhaled again. “You are impossible.”

Wei Ying beamed. “Yes. But I’m YOUR impossible.”

The entire room: “AWWWWWWWWWWWWW—”

Lan Zhan flushed. Just a little. “Mn. Still. Next time… be gentle.”

Wei Ying patted his chest proudly. “Gentle? With Shufu? A-Zhan… sweetheart… be realistic.”

The room howled.

Lan Zhan closed his eyes like he was praying for patience from all eight immortals.

~*~

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Snippet 2: - (I lost the video link I got inspired from for this one, but credit to that video, which inspired me)

(Same characters, same environment, different day)

The Lan-Wei residence had known chaos before… but today?
Today, it reached operational excellence in the midst of absolute chaos.

The entire extended friend–family alliance was gathered like they were watching a reality show finale. The air vibrated with tension, slapstick, generational trauma, snack crumbs, and the faint sound of A-Yuan whispering, “This is better than Netflix.”

At the centre?

Wei Ying vs. Lan Qiren.
An eternal rivalry.
A spiritual boxing match.
Heavenly thunder vs. grumpy mountain.

Another philosophical debate about labour allocation—also known as: ‘petty household chores they weaponise like ancient artefacts.’

Wei Ying stood clutching a long-handled broom like a divine sceptre as if he stole it from the ‘Cleaning Goddess’ herself. His hair was slightly wild, his posture dramatic, his soul burning with the righteousness of a man who’s been forced to ‘just help a little bit’ too many times. Lan Qiren had his eyebrows sharpened to deadly weapons.

“Every! Time!” Wei Ying roared, face red, broom shaking like it needed seatbelts. “Every time you step into this house, it’s WORK WORK WORK! Do this! Do that! Wipe that! Fix that! Move that! Rearrange that plant by three centimetres!” He jabbed the broom towards Lan Qiren. “Why do I become the unpaid maid when you visit?! Does my face scream ‘domestic help’?!”

Lan Qiren bristled so hard the air temperature dropped by five degrees. His eyebrows were already twitching in spirit. “If YOU won’t work, then who will?! Did A-Zhan marry you so you can SIT like a king while the entire world spins around you?! So you could laze around on his silk pillows?!”

Lan Zhan choked on his saliva. This felt like HR territory. “I… do not recall… silk pillows—”

Everyone glared at him.

Lan Zhan tried to say, “Shufu—Wei Ying does not sit like—”

“He DOES!” Lan Qiren barked.

Wei Ying gasped like he’d been slapped with divine lightning. The audacity. The slender nerve. “OLD WIZARD—don’t test me!” he shouted. “You're like one ancient spell away from turning into dust! I swear I feel like rubbing this broom across your face, old hag!”

Everyone collectively died and resurrected. (Out of sheer internal laughing of course😂)

Lan Huan’s jaw dropped so low it touched enlightenment.
Jiang Cheng actually whispered, “Show some respect—wait, actually, no, this is hilarious, continue.”
Jin Guangyao shielded A-Ling’s ears in slow-motion horror.
A-Ling: “Why are you pretending I’ve never heard Ying Shufu say worse?” Jin Guangyao removed his hands, agreeing.

Nie Huaisang clasped his hands in delight. “Ohhh, the family drama today is Michelin-star quality.” Jingyi and A-Yuan were barely able to keep it to themselves. (Shameless)

Lan Zhan… blinked. Slowly. Deeply. He inhaled like a tired monk whose temple keeps catching fire. He knew—HE KNEW—his Shufu’s blood pressure just shot through six realms.

Lan Qiren’s beard puffed up like a startled cat. “And I feel like smashing that broom across YOUR face!”

There was a full two seconds of everyone processing the fact that a respected elder just threatened corporal punishment with household equipment.

Wei Ying made an offended gasp, so dramatic it echoed.

Jingyi whispered, awestruck, “Shū gōnggong has entered BEAST MODE.”

A-Yuan replied, “Achievement unlocked: Shū gōnggong unhinged.”

Nie Huaisang fanned himself with his hand, shamelessly delighted. “Honestly, this is better than the office fights.”

Lan Zhan rose slowly, trying to mediate like a doomed HR manager. “Shufu… Wei Ying… perhaps we should—”

But he never finished.

Because like a powerful Bollywood villain making a sudden pivot, Wei Ying spun toward Lan Zhan. “And THIS MAN HERE—”

Lan Zhan blinked, the picture of calm bureaucracy. “Mn?”

SMACK!

The broom WHACKED across his back.

LAN ZHAN JUMPED—an actual startled little jolt like a cat who touched a wet leaf.

Everyone: “OH.”
The household gasped.
A-Yuan clapped like it was a theatre.

Lan Zhan stood there, back arched from shock, blinking with the betrayed dignity of a man who just got spanked by his spouse in front of everyone.

Wei Ying jabbed the broom at him furiously. “No work! EVERY DAY no work! Only WATCHING this drama! This argument! What do you DO?! NOTHING! UNCIVILIZED MAN!”

“A-Die just got called uncivilised,” A-Yuan whispered, reverent.

Lan Huan was shaking with silent laughter.
Jiang Cheng openly cackled.

Lan Zhan stared at the floor, processing his new label. Quietly: “I… Did laundry… And the dishes… This morning.”

Wei Ying shouted from the kitchen, already stomping away, “NOT ENOUGH! YOU CALL THAT LAUNDRY?! If efficiency had a nightmare, it would be YOU!”

He hurled the broom onto the floor in a dramatic drop—
WHAM.
A signal.
A declaration.
A shot fired in the war of household politics.

Lan Qiren grumbled, “Disrespectful brat.”

A-Yuan leaned over to Jingyi. “Should we… do something?”

Jingyi snorted. “And DIE? No thanks.”

Lan Huan clasped his chest. “I have seen domestic tragedies. I have seen domestic wars. But this—this is family synergy collapsing.”

Jiang Cheng was wheezing. “Finally! Someone called Lan Zhan uncivilised! I feel spiritual peace!”

Nie Huaisang raised his phone. “For posterity.”
Jin Guangyao lowered his phone. “For legal reasons, no.”

A-Ling: “Is it bad if I cheer ‘Go Ying Shufu’?”

Jingyi: “No. This is cultural enrichment.”

A-Yuan, nodding sagely: “Baba is in his villain arc.”

Lan Zhan just stood there… quietly, nobly, gracefully surviving his marriage and pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling like a man filing a mental complaint form against fate.

Lan Huan patted his shoulder. “It builds character, A-Zhan.”

Nie Huaisang: “And content. Premium content.”

~*~

Lan Qiren had reached his absolute operational limit.

His eyebrows were vibrating. His beard was fluffed into a Level-5 Threat Indicator. His footsteps were stomping with such seismic force that A-Ling whispered, “Is the foundation insured?”

Without warning, the elder spun on his heel, grabbed his outer robe like a man DONE with this dimension, and stormed toward the main door. “I am LEAVING! This house is a disgrace!” he barked, voice echoing through the house like an angry temple bell.

Chaos erupted instantly.

The door wasn’t ready. The floor wasn’t prepared.
Frankly, the ancestors weren’t ready.

Lan Zhan, Lan Huan, Jingyi, Jiang Cheng, Nie Huaisang, Jin Guangyao, A-Yuan, and A-Ling all scrambled like panicked interns trying to stop the CEO from quitting mid-meeting.

• Lan Zhan trying to remain serene while internally buffering. “Shufu, please—!”
• Jiang Cheng was already irritated because he was tired of these shenanigans. “Old man Lan. Don’t be dramatic—!”
• Lan Huan in full polite damage-control mode. “Shufu, let us talk—”
• Nie Huaisang delightedly took mental notes for future gossip. “No, no, no, don’t go! Who will give us commentary material?!”
• Jin Guangyao stressed-smiling like a bank manager while smacking Nie Huaisang’s head to shut him up. “Sir, please, you’ll twist your ankle—”
• Jingyi, A-Ling and A-Yuan treating it like a live drama broadcast. “SHŪ GŌNGGONG NOOO—DON’T LEAVE—THE SHOW JUST STARTED—”

But Lan Qiren was a man possessed, radiating pure fury-powered momentum. He swatted them away like irritating flies. “I AM GOING! I CANNOT TOLERATE THIS INSOLENT BRAT ANYMORE!” He marched like he was about to file a resignation letter from humanity.

From the kitchen, the insolent brat emerged like a cursed forest spirit with the sacred weapon: THE BROOM OF DOOM.
THE SAME BROOM.
HIS OFFICIAL WEAPON.
His emotional support weapon.
His emotional destruction weapon.

“YES YES!” he shrieked, broom raised like Gandalf on a power trip. “GO AWAY! GO! Give me—no, GIVE US—NO, AT LEAST GIVE ME PEACE! I WANT MY PEACE BACK! YOU TAKE EVERY LAST DROP OF OXYGEN FROM THIS HOUSE!”

Lan Shufu spun so fast his goatee nearly windmilled. “You insolent—!”

A-Yuan? A-Yuan’s eyes sparkle. He whispers to A-Ling, “This is better than the donkey opera from last month.”

Lan Huan swooped in, desperate: “Shufu, a moment to recalibrate expectations might—”

Jin Guangyao bowed at an angle reserved for HR nightmares: “Let’s strategise for a mutually beneficial outcome—”

Jingyi whispered loudly, “Did he sleep with the broom under his blanket? Is that why he’s like this?”

A-Ling: “…Yeah, I think the broom slept with him.”

Nie Huaisang nearly choked trying not to laugh.

Jingyi, whispering loudly to A-Yuan: “Your family is terrifying.”

A-Yuan nodding like this was peak daytime drama.

Lan Huan: “A-Yuan, sit down, oh no—don't sit THAT close—”

A-Yuan already dragged a stool front row. “No, no, Shufu, you hush. Let the artistes perform.” (A-Yuan, you sass!)

Lan Zhan stepped forward, calm voice slicing through chaos like a Zen sword: “Shufu, Wei Ying did not intend to—”

“OH, I INTENDED IT!” Wei Ying snapped. “I intended EVERYTHING today!”

Lan Shufu pointed at Lan Zhan with full melodramatic fury. “LOOK AT HIM! You allow this—this—this feral creature to HIT you!”

Wei Ying locked his rage onto him like a laser-guided missile. “GOOD! TAKE YOUR DARLING LAN ZHAN THEN! HE’S YOUR PRECIOUS BABY, RIGHT? CARRY HIM IN YOUR ARMS AND GET OUT! CARRY HIM INTO THE SUNSET!”

Lan Huan tried stepping in, but the two were spitting fire like rival dragons.
Jin Guangyao muttered, “This is turning into a code red.”
Nie Huaisang cheerfully said, “Oh, I LOVE the red codes!”
Jiang Cheng snapped, “HUÀISANG SHUT UP!”

A-Yuan was eating chips. (God knows where he got that from all of a sudden)
Jingyi and A-Ling stole the chips.
A-Yuan stole them back.

Lan Shufu pointed at Lan Zhan. “Look at him! Look! This is what you married!”

Wei Ying, broom raised like a divine relic: “GOOD! TAKE YOUR DARLING LAN ZHAN AND LEAVE!”

And then—
as if the universe prayed for comedy—

THWACK.
Broom.
Lan Zhan’s back.
Again.

Lan Zhan flinched—
A tiny, elegant, nearly invisible flinch—
But the room saw it in full HD.

The entire rescue team gasped.

Jiang Cheng: “CAN YOU STOP ASSAULTING HIM FOR FIVE MINUTES—”
Lan Huan: “A-YING NO—NOT AGAIN—”
Jingyi: “THAT’S THE SECOND TIME TODAY, ZHAN SHUFU, BLINK TWICE IF YOU NEED HELP!”
A-Ling: “Should we call someone for help?”
Nie Huaisang: horrified gasp disguised as delighted amusement.
Jin Guangyao: “This is… not within safety regulations—”

A-Yuan, mortified, covered his face. “Baba PLEASE—stop hitting A-Die with floor equipment!! Please! He’s so civil! He doesn’t deserve broom trauma!”

Wei Ying turned on them like a wild cat and glared at all of them like THEY were the problem. “OH SHUT UP, ALL OF YOU! WHY ARE YOU SCOLDING ME? HE’S FINE! HE CAN HANDLE ONE BROOM! YOU PEOPLE ARE ACTING LIKE I HIT HIM WITH A TRUCK! I HAVEN’T EVEN STARTED!”

Lan Zhan stood rigid, calm, but not, giving the vibe of a man reconsidering every life decision since birth.

A-Yuan stomped forward, 13-year-old indignation activated. “Baba, you can’t keep hitting A-Die! He’s sensitive!”

Wei Ying snapped, “SENSITIVE!? HE’S BUILT LIKE A BAMBOO FOREST, AND THAT THING FLEXES, NOT BREAKS!”

Jingyi: “This is domestic violence, but like… stylish?” (Jingyi, you little sass!)

Jiang Cheng smacked Jingyi on the back of the head. “Shut UP!”

Lan Shufu roared, “SEE!? SEE!? This is why I am LEAVING! This household is a battlefield!”

“YES, YES, GO! GO AWAY! LEAVE! GIVE AT LEAST ME PEACE!”

Jiang Cheng had had exactly enough. “WHY DID I EVEN COME HERE TODAY?!”

Oh, Wei Ying had an answer.

He pointed the broom at him like Moses parting the sea. “YOU! YOU GO WITH HIM TOO! OLD MAN, TAKE YOUR DARLING NEPHEW-IN-LAW JIANG CHENG! HE’S THE BRIGHTEST STAR IN YOUR SKY! YOUR PRECIOUS LOTUS BLOSSOM! Take him too! Go! You three can make a little fan club together!”

Jiang Cheng shrieked, “WHAT DID I DO TO YOU PEOPLE?!”

Lan Shufu puffed up like a rooster. “At least Jiang Cheng understands DISCIPLINE! And he is NOT my darling!”

Wei Ying: “OH PLEASE! You defend him more than you defend your own knees!”

Jiang Cheng: “I DIDN’T ASK TO BE HERE—”

A-Ling and Jingyi whispered in the back like two gremlins watching prime-time drama.

A-Ling: “Who do you think will win?”
Jingyi: “Definitely the broom.”
A-Ling: “Yeah, same.”

Then A-Ling said aloud, “Ying Shufu, smack someone again! Preferably, my Jiujiu!”

Jiang Cheng: “DON’T YOU DARE—”

WHACK.
Wei Ying obliged anyway.

Jiang Cheng: “I HATE THIS FAMILY.”

Lan Huan stepped in, hands raised, doing his best Head-of-HR impression. “Shufu, A-Ying, let’s all take a breath—”

Lan Shufu barked. “I DON’T NEED BREATHING, I NEED SANITY!”

Wei Ying, eyes blazing: “THEN GO FIND IT SOMEWHERE ELSE!” Then pointed dramatically at Lan Zhan again. “I SWEAR I DON’T WANT A MAN IN MY LIFE,” he declared, broom trembling, “WHO CAN’T EVEN SUPPORT ME OR TAKE A STAND IN FRONT OF HIS SHUFU!”

Everyone called out at once—

“A-Ying—!”
“Wei Ying—!”
“Oh heavens—!”
“Aiyaa, this is escalating—!”
“A-Yuan, hand me more chips—!”
“I should have recorded this—!”
“STOP DOING COMMENTARY YOU THREE!” Jiang Cheng shouted at Jingyi, A-Ling and A-Yuan.

Lan Zhan, flustered, stepped forward quietly. “Wei Ying… I—”

But Wei Ying cut him off by grabbing a kitchen towel and throwing it at him dramatically like a tragic heroine. “DON’T YOU ‘WEI YING’ ME! UN-CI-VI-LIZED!”

Lan Zhan’s soul left his body.

Wei Ying didn’t pause. “CARRY THEM IN YOUR ARMS! SINCE THESE ARE YOUR BABIES, NO?! THEY WON’T BE ABLE TO WALK ON THEIR OWN!”

The entire room exploded in overlapping reactions:

Nie Huaisang: “AAAHAHAHAHAHA—CARRY THEM, SHUFU—BRIDAL STYLE—”
Jin Guangyao: “A creative logistical challenge.”
Jingyi: “SHŪ GŌNGGONG WOULD DROP ME.”
A-Ling: “He would drop all of you.”
A-Yuan: “Please stop this, Baba—"
Lan Huan: “A-Cheng is not going into anyone’s arms—”
Jiang Cheng: “IF ANYONE TRIES TO LIFT ME I WILL BITE—”
Lan Zhan: “Wei Ying… stop.”

Nie Huaisang whispered to Lan Huan, “Maybe they need… team-building exercises?”

Lan Huan, weary: “Huaisang, please.”

Wei Ying spun on Lan Zhan. “STOP?! STOP?! YOU STOP!” He smacked the broom on the floor. “I REALLY DON’T WANT A HUSBAND WHO CAN’T SUPPORT OR TAKE A STAND IN FRONT OF HIS SHUFU! WHAT IS THE POINT OF YOU?! STANDING THERE LIKE A TREE ENT—”

Lan Zhan: “Wei Ying—”

“NO!” Wei Ying threw the broom dramatically to the floor. “NO MORE! If your Shufu says jump, you jump. If he says sit, you sit. If he says to slap me, you will probably slap me! What am I? A houseplant?! Decorative?! USELESS—"

A-Yuan: “Baba, please breathe—”
Jingyi: “He’s not breathing—”
A-Ling: “Should we throw water—”
Lan Huan: “PLEASE DON’T THROW IT—”
Nie Huaisang: “Throw it. Throw it.” (Oh my god, stop it, Huaisang!)

Lan Shufu, redder than chilli oil, pointed furiously at Wei Ying. “YOU—YOU DISRESPECTFUL—IMPOSSIBLE—”

“YES YES I AM IMPOSSIBLE,” Wei Ying rolled his eyes. “And YOU—YOU ARE THE PROBLEM! Take Lan Zhan and Jiang Cheng and go away, GO! GO AWAY! GO MARCHING INTO THE SUNSET, HAVE A PICNIC AS WELL—LEAVE ME IN PEACE!”

Lan Zhan finally intervened, stepping forward quietly. “Wei Ying… enough.”

Wei Ying whirled on him. “ENOUGH!? NOW YOU SPEAK!? WHEN I’M FIGHTING FOR MY HONOUR YOU GO QUIET LIKE A DECORATION!?”

The teens whispered: “Ohh, he’s dead.”
“A-Die’s funeral is next week.”

Lan Zhan opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Realised there was no correct answer.

Then quietly but firmly stepping closer to him: “Wei Ying… I am always on your side.”

Wei Ying, still fuming: “THEN PROVE IT! HIT SOMEONE WITH THE BROOM!”

Lan Zhan looked at the broom.
Then, at the elders.
Then at the universe. “…No.”

Jingyi lost it. “Zhan Shufu said NO to violence! THE SYSTEM IS FAILING!”

Lan Shufu screeched like a kettle boiling over. “I AM LEAVING! This is NOT the Lan family I built!”

Nie Huaisang added oh-so-unhelpfully, “Well, technically you didn’t build it, you more like… contributed grumpiness—”

Lan Shufu whirled. “SILENCE!”

Everyone ran after him again.

“SHUFU WAIT—”
“DON’T TAKE THE BUS IN ANGER—”
“THERE ARE STRAY DOGS—”
“TEMPERATURE IS HIGH—”
“SHUFU—PLEASE—”
“Aiyaaa…”

But Lan Shufu ripped the door open, stomped out, and SLAMMED it behind him so hard the plants trembled.

SILENCE.

Jingyi: “…Should someone… uh… go check if he fell off the steps?”

Lan Huan massaged his temples. “Please don’t encourage fate.”

Jiang Cheng groaned. “I need a drink. A long one.”

Lan Zhan quietly bent to pick up the broom Wei Ying had thrown aside.

The broom… trembled.

Wei Ying stood there breathing like a bull in a crowded marketplace, chest heaving, hair flying, broom abandoned on the tiles, and muttered: “Good. Finally. PEACE.”

Everyone else stared at him like he was a natural disaster.

~*~

Once Lan Shufu stormed out and the door slammed like a thunderclap from heaven, everyone stared at Wei Ying.

Wei Ying glared back.

Jingyi, arms folded, voice trembling with righteous indignation: “Ying Shufu… how could you? A broom. On Zhan Shufu. A BROOM.”

A-Ling adds helpfully: “That’s basically a hate crime.”

Wei Ying: “Oh PLEASE.”

Jiang Cheng jabbed a finger toward the broom. “Are you INSANE? You hit LAN ZHAN with THAT? He’s your husband, not a cockroach!”

Wei Ying gasped in offence. “DON’T TALK ABOUT MY BROOM LIKE THAT.”

Jiang Cheng: “I WAS TALKING ABOUT LAN ZHAN.”
Wei Ying: “I KNOW.”
Jiang Cheng: “…”
Wei Ying: “And YES, I will hit him if I want! He’s built strong! He can take it!”

A-Yuan, horrified and protective: “Baba, A-Die is a human being! A SENTIENT HUMAN BEING! You can’t whack him with cleaning equipment!”

Wei Ying tossed his hair dramatically. “He’s fine! Look at him!”

Everyone looked at Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan stood there, posture perfect, but his soul visibly circling the drain.

The man had been broom-whacked twice today.

He looked like he was calculating how much spiritual energy he’d need to reincarnate somewhere quiet.

Lan Huan, polite but firm: “A-Ying… that broom… it touched the FLOOR.”

Wei Ying blinked. “And?”

Lan Huan: “And you used it… to hit my Didi.”
He said it with the same tone someone might use to say you used poison to make tea.

Nie Huaisang, fanning himself with his hand dramatically like some kind of heroine: “A broom on Lan Zhan! My heavens! This is slander against aesthetics AND marital harmony!”

Jin Guangyao, ever the gentle anti-villain: “I don’t think this is a broom problem. This is a… behavioural framework concern.”
Translation: You’re unhinged, but politely.

Wei Ying: “WHY IS EVERYONE ACTING LIKE I THREW A GRENADE AT HIM!?”

The three teens raised their hands like they were in school.

A-Yuan: “Baba, you HIT A-Die.”
Jingyi: “TWICE.”
A-Ling: “WITH FEELING.”

Wei Ying: “He deserved it!”

Lan Zhan cleared his throat softly. “Mn.”

The whole room gasped like he’d confessed to murder.

Jiang Cheng: “LAN ZHAN DON’T ENABLE HIM!”

Wei Ying planted his hands on his hips. “Listen. LISTEN. When he stands there doing NOTHING while his Shufu calls me a goblin, I WILL USE WHATEVER IS NEARBY TO EXPRESS MY FEELINGS. Today it was the broom. Tomorrow, maybe the ladle.”

They all screamed.

Lan Huan: “NOT THE COOKING UTENSILS!”
Jin Guangyao: “That is… escalating.”
Nie Huaisang: “I fully support ladle violence.”
A-Yuan: “SANG SHUFU YOU ARE NOT HELPING!”
Jingyi: “I want to watch, though.”
A-Ling: “Same.”

Wei Ying threw his hands in the air. “AND ANYWAY! IT’S NOT ABOUT THE BROOM! IT’S ABOUT THIS MAN—” He pointed at Lan Zhan like he just found him in a lineup. “—who keeps SILENT LIKE A LAMPPOST whenever his uncle attacks me!”

Lan Zhan blinked. “Wei Ying… I did not know you wanted me to intervene.” (Lan Zhan, you beautiful, handsome, dense idiot)

Wei Ying punched his arm (gently this time): “OF COURSE YOU SHOULD INTERVENE! DEFEND ME! SAY SOMETHING! ANYTHING! GROWL A LITTLE!”

The entire room froze at the mental image of Lan Zhan growling.

Jingyi whispered: “Zhan Shufu would bark politely.”
A-Ling: “Like a very disciplined dog.”
A-Yuan: “GUYS STOP.”

Wei Ying huffed, pacing. “What’s the point of having a big handsome husband if he’s just standing there like a decorative plant while I’m being verbally roasted?!”

Jiang Cheng: “I AGREE, LAN ZHAN. SAY SOMETHING NEXT TIME.”
A-Yuan: “YES. REACT.”
Lan Huan: “Emotionally, preferably.”
Nie Huaisang: “Or dramatically.”
A-Ling: “Or with violence.”
Everyone: “NO!”

Lan Zhan looked around helplessly, then at Wei Ying. Quietly, earnestly: “Wei Ying… I will try.”

Wei Ying sniffed, dramatic as ever. “Good.”

Jingyi crossed his arms. “But Ying Shufu, apology?”

Wei Ying stared. “Apology…?”

Everyone nodded.

Wei Ying looked at Lan Zhan. “Fine. Sorry for hitting you with a broom.”

The apology had the emotional depth of a weather report.

Lan Zhan, being Lan Zhan, nodded softly. “It is alright.”

A-Yuan clutching his hair: “A-DIE NO IT IS NOT ALRIGHT—SET SOME STANDARDS—”

Wei Ying waved him off and strutted back to the kitchen, victorious.

Jiang Cheng groaned: “This family is dysfunctional.”

Nie Huaisang: “And entertaining!”

Lan Huan sighed: “We should schedule a mediator.”

A-Ling: “I volunteer as audience.”

Jingyi: “I’m bringing popcorn next time.”

~*~

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Snippet 3: - (Inspired from: - https://youtube.com/shorts/3cO3tQfauys?si=HdeKzmQXOS6K9zc3

The first 2 parts of this snippet are inspired by this video. Those who know Bengali can watch the video).

(Same characters except Lan Qiren, Same environment, Different day).

Wei Ying was folding laundry with the aggression of a man who had seen too much, snapping towels like they personally offended him. Every crease in every shirt felt like a metaphor for his crushed patience.

“Every. Damn. Time.” He started, voice rising with each fold. “Every time there is even the faintest whiff of an occasion in that stupid office—BOOM! A fight. Without fail. It’s practically a KPI now. It’s like they’ve all signed an internal memo: No celebration shall proceed without a minimum of three arguments and one emotional meltdown. We should put it on the annual report: ‘Office Culture: Inclusive, Diverse, and Violently Opinionated.’”

He slammed a shirt flat. The shirt flinched spiritually.

Lan Huan, politely helping, murmured, “That sounds… consistent with past trends.”

“Consistent? Aiya, Huan ge, it’s tradition at this point!” Wei Ying threw another shirt onto the couch. “That office can’t have peace. No, no, peace is banned. Especially Nie Huaisang’s department. Those people? Those people could start World War III over stapler placement. Even if you WANT to keep quiet, you won’t be able to! They will crawl over your body, step over your lungs, sit on your head JUST to argue with you!”

Nie Huaisang, sipping tea with his pinky out (So posh), gasped. “Wow! I feel so targeted and yet so seen.”

“You should,” Wei Ying said.

Lan Zhan, sitting with a cup of tea, raised a brow. “Mn. Your department sounds… efficient.”

Wei Ying spun dramatically. “Efficient?! Efficient at what? Chaos management?!”

A-Yuan, Jingyi, and the rest gathered like an audience ready for a one-man comedy show.

Wei Ying continued, powering up. “That day, because of my promotion, I brought enough goodies to the office to feed an entire village. My team ate happily. If someone asked, I gave them too! Simple! Normal!”

Lan Zhan: “Reasonable.”

“Exactly! But then—THEN—Nie Huaisang’s team marched in like they were storming the Imperial Palace! Like it’s a Black Friday sale on IQ points. They could have come like normal beings. But noooo! I thought they were going to form a labour union right in front of me! I had no choice but to feed them, too.”

“That’s called proper stakeholder alignment,” Huaisang nodded proudly.

“Don’t give me corporate nonsense,” Wei Ying pointed a half-folded pant at him.

Jingyi: “Honestly? Valid. I heard his department runs on drama and instant noodles.”

A-Yuan: “Baba, you need hazard pay.”

Lan Zhan dryly: “We have hazard pay.”

A-Yuan: “Then you need extra hazard pay.”

Wei Ying continued, “I gave them all food! I EVEN portioned it evenly! But NO. I give a fish piece instead of beef ONE TIME, and suddenly it becomes a political issue!”

A-Ling: “Wait—WAIT. They fought because they didn’t want fish? They wanted beef? Bro, that’s such a Gen Z problem. ‘I’m offended you gave me protein without consulting my inner cow.’”

A-Yuan: “Baba committed a crime.”

Wei Ying jabbed a finger at him. “YES! According to them, at least. They started fighting among themselves, fighting with me, fighting with the air—how was I supposed to know they wanted beef?! They stand there like mute museum statues!”

Nie Huaisang: “My department is passionate!”

Everyone in unison: “NO.”

Jin Guangyao: pleasant smile, demonic glint “Passionate is when you love your work. Your people are staging a telenovela every Tuesday. I saw it once when I visited your office.”

Nie Huaisang: “At least we’re consistent.”

Jingyi: “Consistently unhinged.”

Wei Ying snapped a towel and pointed it at all of them like a general rallying troops. “Do you know what they did? One guy slammed his fist on my table and said, ‘If you knew I eat beef every day, why did you give me fish?’”

A-Yuan: “So he expected you to stalk his diet?”

Wei Ying: “YES!”

A-Ling: “That’s peak influencer mentality.”

Lan Zhan: “They should learn to communicate.”

Wei Ying: “Lan Zhan. They can’t communicate. They treat basic talking like it’s a paid subscription.”

Nie Huaisang: “Look, my department is simply—”

A-Yuan: “—a walking HR complaint.”

Jingyi: “—a live demonstration of why God stopped making new species.”

A-Ling: “—an example of what happens when you hire theatre kids into corporate.”

Jin Guangyao: “—the reason the cafeteria staff prays before opening each day.”

Nie Huaisang: gasp “WHY ARE YOU ALL LIKE THIS?”

Wei Ying: “BECAUSE YOUR TEAM STARTED A FOOD FIGHT OVER FISH VS BEEF. Where was this energy in the office when they were acting like ancient ghosts who can’t speak unless summoned by a medium?! I can’t just start doing TELEPATHY in the middle of the break room!”

Lan Zhan, sipping his tea calmly: “Communication is important.”

“YES, THANK YOU,” Wei Ying yelled. “People can SAY what they want! They have working mouths! Vocal cords! But nooooo. They must create DRAMA. Otherwise, their souls evaporate.”

Jingyi snorted. “Honestly sounds like your people need a hobby.”

Nie Huaisang held up his hands, torn between defending his department and throwing them under the bus. “Well… to be fair… they… um…” He cleared his throat. “…they do enjoy a little dramatic flair. But also Wei-xiong, you KNOW they’re picky. Why would you not assume they’d want beef?”

Wei Ying stared at him, betrayed. “I should have known. Their brains move more slowly than a cow chewing cud. I should’ve connected the dots. But forgive me, oh mighty Huaisang, for not instantly divining their beef cravings like some culinary prophet!”

Lan Zhan, deadpan: “Mn. Prophetic abilities would increase productivity.”

Everyone BURST OUT laughing.

Nie Huaisang, fanning himself with his hand dramatically: “Wei-xiong, you say these things so confidently… I almost feel bad scolding you.”

Wei Ying: “GOOD. FEEL BAD. I DESERVE SYMPATHY.”

Lan Zhan: “You deserve better co-workers.”

A-Yuan: “Baba deserves beef.”

Wei Ying threw a towel at him. “I DESERVE PEACE!”

Lan Zhan: “Then next time, send a form.”

Stunned silence.

Jingyi: “He’s gone corporate.”

A-Ling: “There’s no coming back.”

Wei Ying: “Lan Zhan… my love… my once-human soul mate… You want me to send Google Forms… to adults… who get triggered by FISH?”

Lan Zhan: “It would reduce incidents by 83%.”

Jin Guangyao nodded approvingly, acting along: “Data-backed scolding. Very impressive.”

Nie Huaisang: “I object! My team thrives on chaos!”

A-Yuan: “And that is exactly the problem, Sang Shufu.”

Nie Huaisang waved his hand. “You can’t eliminate drama from my department. It’s part of our workflow. It’s even in the KPI.”

Lan Huan raised a brow. “In the KPI?”

“Yes! ‘Quarterly Deliverables: reports, audits, two departmental quarrels, one mass emotional breakdown, and one argument with HR.’”

Wei Ying threw a towel at him. “I KNEW IT!”

Jiang Cheng leaned back, smirking. “Honestly, Wei Ying, I’m shocked they didn’t fight about something bigger. A fish piece? That’s small for your office.”

Wei Ying groaned. “Don’t give them ideas, Jiang Cheng. They’ll escalate. Next time, they might fight over whether the stapler should be blue or black.”

Lan Zhan: “Blue is more efficient.”

Wei Ying stares at him. “Lan Zhan. What.”

Lan Zhan, completely calm: “It is statistically less frequently stolen.”

Nie Huaisang clapped. “SEE? Even your man understands the battlefield.”

Wei Ying sighed deeply. “This office will be the end of me. I just know it. I’ll be buried under a mountain of passive-aggressive emails and rejected fish pieces.”

A-Ling: “Put that on your tombstone.”

Jingyi: “No, put ‘He died trying to feed idiots.’”

A-Yuan: “No, no—‘Cause of death: co-worker wanted beef.’”

Lan Zhan softly: “Unacceptable.”

Everyone turns.

Lan Zhan: “He will not die before submitting his quarterly report.”

Wei Ying: “LAN ZHAN WHAT?!”

~*~

Wei Ying was on Rant Cycle: Part II, and the laundry in front of him never stood a chance. He was still on the floor, knee-deep in laundry like a medieval washerwoman who’d been reincarnated into corporate China by mistake. Socks flew. T-shirts flapped. Towels snapped in rhythm with his building temper. A storm was coming, and Lan Zhan—poor, innocent Lan Zhan—didn’t foresee it would be against him.

Wei Ying launched instantly: “Every! Single! Time!” he announced, shaking a pair of Lan Zhan’s socks in the air like flags of war. “Every time that old man—your old man—walks into this house, he becomes: ‘Wei Ying make me tea, Wei Ying cook me this, Wei Ying fetch me that!’ What am I, ah?! A free maid for that ancient tyrant?!”

Lan Zhan blinked twice.
This was the blink of an eye of a man who regretted 43% of his life choices (What an odd number, but anyway). The room braced itself.

Nie Huaisang whispered (not quietly), “He’s counting the seconds till he can fake a work call.”

Jin Guangyao deadpanned, “This is exactly like my quarterly meetings. One person does all the work while everyone else waits to complain.”

Lan Huan gave a polite, horrified smile. “Ah… A-Ying… perhaps Shufu didn’t mean—”

Nie Huaisang slapped his shoulder. “Don’t interrupt, Huan-ge, it’s getting GOOD.”

A-Yuan leaned forward with the intensity of a child watching a magic show. “Go, Baba, GO!”
A-Ling whispered, “Round two. This is the premium content.”
Jingyi punched the air. “He’s SPEED-RANTING today!”

Wei Ying wasn’t done. Oh no. He had merely entered the quarter-finals of his complaint tournament. “He comes to his nephew’s house—his NEPHEW’S, not nephew-in-law’s—and somehow I’m the one ordered around?” he snapped, glaring at Lan Zhan like he personally invented the concept of unhelpful relatives. “Do I look unemployed? Do I look like I have no life? Do I look like the great Lan Qiren’s personal chef slash servant slash emotional cushion?!”

Jiang Cheng promptly lifted two hands. “Don’t drag me into this. I didn’t ask for this smoke.”

A-Yuan: “But you got it anyway, Cheng Shufu.”
Jiang Cheng: “A-Yuan! You—!”
Nie Huaisang, happily: “Aiya, the energy here is so spicy.”

Jin Guangyao gave A-Cheng a sympathetic pat; it did nothing.

Jingyi put a hand on A-Yuan’s shoulder. “Here it comes… this is the ‘What am I, unpaid staff?’ arc.”

A-Yuan nodded solemnly. “Classic Baba storyline. Ten out of ten performance.”

Wei Ying flung a t-shirt into the folded pile so hard it bounced off. “And when he goes home,” Wei Ying continued, voice climbing, “Ohhh, suddenly Jiang Cheng becomes diamond beta gold platinum deluxe child! He’ll praise Jiang Cheng until the dogs get jealous! Heap gifts on him! Call him the pride of the family! And me? Nothing. ZERO. NOT EVEN A THANK YOU. So, why should I be nice and do all the work? Everyone is here to take, take, take. Not a single person knows how to give. Big words everywhere—honour, duty, righteousness—bah! Big dramas. Everyone is a big speaker until it’s time to wash a bowl.”

Lan Huan sipped his water like a serene, elegant grandma and murmured, “He’s not wrong.”

Jin Guangyao added mildly, “At this point, Shufu treats Wei Ying like a mobile customer service department.”

“Customer service doesn’t tolerate this much,” A-Ling corrected, legs sprawled across three cushions. “This is more like tech support for a grandpa with five browsers open and zero patience.”
Jiang Cheng squawked. “HEY. I DIDN’T ASK TO BE PRAISED.”
Jin Guangyao murmured delicately, “But you don’t reject the gifts either.”
Jiang Cheng glared. “You want me to?!”
A-Ling nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, Jiujiu! Share!”

A slightly wet sleeve slapped Wei Ying’s cheek. It only invigorated him.

“And my husband—” he said with the tone of someone about to roast a chicken alive—“my husband is another MASTERPIECE. A one-of-a-kind problem. A husband handcrafted specially by the heavens to TEST MY PATIENCE.”

Lan Zhan’s spine straightened like someone complimented him with a sword.

A-Yuan, munching a pastry: “A-Die looks happy.”

Lan Zhan did look… proud. Hopeful. His eyes shimmered with ‘finally I am being appreciated for my unique attributes.’

Wei Ying annihilated him in one line: “What a BLESSING to have THIS husband. Truly. A heavenly joke on me.”

Lan Zhan blinked. “…oh.”

A-Yuan patted his arm. “It’s okay, A-Die. We love you anyway.”
Jingyi nudged A-Ling: “Bro, Ying Shufu just drop-kicked Zhan Shufu emotionally.”

Nie Huaisang was laughing so hard he almost dropped from the couch. “Ahaha! He praised you just to murder the compliment—classic!”

Wei Ying ploughed onward, unstoppable. “Why, Lan Zhan? Why can’t you say anything to your Shufu for once instead of sitting there like a very expensive, beautifully carved mute statue from cold melancholy?! Why can’t you cook for him or do things for him? Why do I have to run like a donkey every time?! Why can’t you open your divine lips and say, ‘Shufu, please don’t treat my spouse like unpaid staff!’ WHY?!”

Lan Zhan felt that praise shrivel inside him like a salted slug. A-Yuan whispered, conspiratorially loud, that Baba’s mood swings needed their own weather forecast.

Lan Huan winced. “A-Zhan… he’s not wrong.”
Lan Zhan: “…”
Nie Huaisang: “He IS a bit statue-ish.”
Jiang Cheng snorted. “Try living with him.”

Lan Zhan inhaled like he was bracing for open-heart surgery. “I told him once,” he said quietly.

Wei Ying turned to him, scandalised. “ONCE?! What am I, a one-time-use detergent packet?! He scolds me ten times before brushing his teeth in the morning!”

A-Yuan helpfully added, “Baba, you’re like… the default target. At this point, even the WiFi listens to Shu gongong more than you.”

Wei Ying gasped dramatically. The laundry pile trembled in fear. “And WHY must I cook for him?!” he demanded. “WHY?! Why can’t you cook something, Lan Zhan?! You know how to slice vegetables. You do it like… like a depressed samurai. It’s good! Use that skill!”

Lan Zhan’s jaw tightened. “I cook well,” he insisted.

The room froze again.

A-Ling whispered, “Is he okay? That sounded defensive.”

Wei Ying slapped a pillow. “You cook WELL?! For whom?! I have NEVER seen—NOT EVEN ONCE—you cooking for your Shufu! Not even instant noodles! Why must I do full-service five-star hospitality?!”

Lan Zhan inhaled deeply. “You do it faster,” he said simply.

The teenagers screamed.

Nie Huaisang clutched his heart dramatically. “Oh my god, he said it. He SAID it. He used speed as an argument!”

Wei Ying laughed in disbelief. “Oh! Is it?! So next time my speed will be used on my suitcase as I LEAVE THIS HOUSE.” He threw a sock so dramatically that it floated like a sad flower petal. The sock landed on Jin Guangyao’s head. He accepted this fate with grace.

Wei Ying plunged his hands back into the clothes like he wanted to drown the entire family in the pool of clothes. “Watching this drama every time scratches my skin off,” he complained. “Everywhere I look—same thing. Same people. Same nonsense. No evolution. It’s like living in a cabbage field where every cabbage pretends to be a philosopher.”

Lan Huan slightly died internally.
Jin Guangyao murmured, “Even I felt that cabbage comment personally.”

“And you, Lan Zhan—do one thing!” Wei Ying snapped. “Go wash Huan-gege’s feet and then drink that water! Maybe then your intelligence will spark and ignite!”

LAN HUAN CHOKED.
Not a gentle choke. Full gasp-meets-heart-attack stroke. “I—WH—WHAT?!” Jin Guangyao patted his back with both hands.
Nie Huaisang slapped his thigh. “I WANT TO SEE IT.”
Jingyi cheered: “DO IT, Zhan Shufu!”
A-Yuan shrieked. “BABA NOOOO! That’s so unhygienic!” Jiang Cheng slapped his knee so hard that even the ancestors felt it. A-Ling covered his ears. “I’m too young for this level of domestic warfare!” Jin Guangyao covered his mouth but was absolutely laughing.

Even Lan Zhan looked briefly insulted—briefly—before the need to reflect on Wei Ying’s spiritual metaphor overtook him. A-Yuan muttered that Baba had become poetic again; someone, please, take notes.

Finally, Wei Ying huffed. “And listen carefully, Lan Zhan. Next time your shufu comes, I will go straight to my parents’ home and LIVE there until he leaves. I’m done. I refuse to be enslaved emotionally, spiritually, and culinarily.”

Silence.

Glorious. Dramatic. Soap-opera silence.

A-Yuan clapped. “BRAVO, BABA!”
A-Ling joined in. Jingyi too.
Even Nie Huaisang wiped a tear of laughter.
Jin Guangyao gently applauded with elegance.
Lan Huan bowed his head like watching divine art.
Jiang Cheng muttered, “And they call ME temperamental.”

Lan Zhan just stood there… processing. Finally, softly, earnestly, in full internal crisis: “…Wei Ying, I… do not want you to leave.”

Everyone “AWWWWWWWWW” ed.

Wei Ying squinted at him. “THEN FIX YOUR SHUFU!” And got up from the floor to scrub the dishes with enough vengeance to drown the entire Lan family. A-Yuan, of course, clapped as if he’d just watched an award-winning drama. He leaned toward A-Ling and whispered, “I hope Shu gongong comes again next week. This episode was fire.” (Stop it, A-Yuan!)

The basin burped out another bubble. Wei Ying glared at it too, as if it were conspiring with the Lan elders.

Nie Huaisang whispered, “Even the furniture fears Wei-xiong now.”

The room had fallen into silent awe.
Only Wei Ying’s furious scrubbing filled the space, water sloshing like tiny waves of revolution.

And somewhere, outside, Lan Shufu sneezed—violently—as if the universe had just insulted him on multiple dimensions.

~*~

But no one in the room, especially the Lan brothers, was able to foresee what Wei Ying was about to drop.

Cause then—

Wei Ying began.

And oh heavens.

Oh ancestors.

Oh everyone.

“You know what I realised?” Wei Ying said, scrubbing a stubborn bowl violently, “THANK GOD the Lan family never produced a daughter or niece.”

Everyone’s heads whipped toward him like someone dropped a nuclear secret.

Lan Zhan looked up like someone had whispered sacrilege.
Lan Huan blinked, genuinely offended. “A… A-Ying… what… what do you mean by that?”

Wei Ying sighed dramatically like a tragic opera hero. “Do you two even KNOW the destruction a sister-in-law brings into a household?!”

Jingyi whispered to A-Ling, “Oho! He’s starting!”

A-Ling nodded. “Open your eyes. He’s transforming.”

Nie Huaisang delighted: “I was born for these moments!”

Lan Zhan, calm but affronted, said, “We would love our hypothetical sister.”

“Oh, I’m sure you would,” Wei Ying scoffed, “that’s the whole PROBLEM!” Wei Ying jabbed a finger at them while soap bubbles floated from his hand. “Sister-in-laws are a whole DIFFERENT BREED of scorpions, okay?! They smile sweetly in front—then behind your back? BOOM! Venom. Poison. Tactical humiliation. I’ve SEEN things. They are born SPECIFICALLY to torment the wives — in this case, the husbands—of their brothers!”

Nie Huaisang clapped like someone at a stand-up show. “Oh, I LOVE when he gets philosophical.”

Lan Huan gasped as if Wei Ying had insulted the Lan ancestors personally. “That is highly disrespectful,” he said, voice trembling with wounded gentleness. “A daughter of the Lan family would be raised with discipline, virtue, gentleness—”

“GENTLE MY FOOT!” Wei Ying snapped. “Don’t you know?! Sister-in-laws are like… like smiling demons! CONSTANT criticisms! CONSTANT judgment! All covered under that sweet, fake, lotus-flower face!”

Jingyi leaned toward A-Ling. “Bro… is he describing the aunt downstairs in our apartment?”
A-Ling whispered, “Bro… I think he’s describing every aunt.”

Lan Zhan tried, poor soul, “Wei Ying… sisters are not inherently—”

“YES THEY ARE!” Wei Ying thundered. “And I BET your imaginary Lan sisters would be EXACT COPIES of that OLD HAG you darlingly call Shufu!”

Jiang Cheng: “Unbelievable. I can’t even deny that.”

A-Yuan, snickering: “Baba called Shu gongong a girl.”

Jin Guangyao hid his smile behind his sleeve. “Well… the personality does match a bit…”

Lan Huan turned pink from shock. “You… you think a Lan daughter would torment you?”

Wei Ying whipped around dramatically. “Huan gege, LISTEN to me carefully. If your family had a daughter? ONE daughter? And if I saw she was STILL unmarried even after I was married to your darling didi—”

Everyone leaned forward. “I don’t know what Jiang Cheng would have done—”

Jiang Cheng immediately yelled, “WHY AM I INVOLVED?!”

“—but I myself would have found her a partner, SHOVE HER into marriage THAT SAME YEAR, packed her bags personally, escorted her to her new home, and THROWN HER SO FAR AWAY I wouldn’t even see her SHADOW. No return policy.”

Lan Huan was scandalised. “My hypothetical sister—thrown?!”

“Yes!” Wei Ying shouted. “BOTH HANDS! WITH MOMENTUM!”

Nie Huaisang, wiping tears of laughter: “Hahaha! He said ‘throw’, Huan-ge. Not ‘send’. Not ‘marry off’. THROW.”

Jingyi cheered. “He’d yeet her like a Frisbee!”

A-Ling cackled. “Ying Shufu would set world records in sister-removal!”

A-Yuan wiped his eyes. “I can already imagine him rolling her out the front door—”

Wei Ying dramatically continued, “GOOD LUCK to the heavens that the Lan family didn’t produce one. Or else MY DESTINY would have suffered greatly!”

Lan Zhan actually looked hurt. “…Would… would our hypothetical sister truly be so bad?”

Wei Ying narrowed his eyes at him. “With YOUR genes? And Shufu’s training? Don’t test destiny, Lan Zhan. Don’t challenge fate. She’d be another version of that old hag—maybe even more powerful because youth plus righteousness is a deadly cocktail!”

The teens HOWLED.

A-Yuan rolled on the floor laughing. “A-Die, your imaginary sister is so scary even Baba is traumatised!”

Jin Guangyao struggled to keep a straight face. “Well… with the Lan family being so disciplined… a daughter might be… ah… firm.”

“FIRM?!” Wei Ying shrieked. “More like IRON-FISTED! Do you know what sister-in-laws do? They come into your house, smile at you, and then criticise EVERYTHING. Every breath. Every move. They’re BORN with the ‘you’re doing it wrong’ gene!”

Lan Huan stood up, absolutely scandalised. “A-Ying, this is slander! Lan daughters—even hypothetical ones—would be refined, elegant ladies!”

“Oh yes!” Wei Ying snapped. “Refined in torture! Elegant in judgement!”

A-Yuan laughed so hard he fell sideways onto the sofa. “Baba’s fighting ghosts today.”

Lan Zhan glared at Wei Ying, calm voice dropping dangerously low. “Explain why you believe a Lan daughter would torment you.”

Wei Ying: “Because she would be EXACTLY like you!”

Lan Zhan’s soul left his body.

Jiang Cheng burst out laughing. “Oh my god—HAHAHA—he got you—”

Nie Huaisang fanned himself dramatically with his hand. “Aiya, if a Lan sister existed, she’d probably drag Wei-xiong by the ear over rule-breaking daily.”

Wei Ying pointed at him with a soapy finger. “EXACTLY! And WITH A SMILE! Those are the MOST DANGEROUS!”

Lan Huan massaged his temple. “This is… a new perspective.”

Wei Ying resumed scrubbing viciously. “So THANK GOODNESS the Lan family tree didn’t branch sideways. One Shufu is enough to age me ten years. Two would’ve KILLED ME.”

Lan Zhan finally snapped, voice stern. “Wei Ying. This is absurd. Lan daughters would not torment you. They would respect you.”

Wei Ying rounded on him immediately. “Oh, REALLY?! Just like YOU respect me?! Just like YOU stand up for me?! Just like YOU open your mouth when Shufu attacks me?!”

Lan Zhan shut up instantly.

Everyone gasped, delighted.

A-Yuan whispered, “Baba is destroying A-Die gently…”

But Wei Ying was not finished.

Oh, he was far from it.

Wei Ying tossed another grenade: “And sister-in-laws all have an inborn talent for convincing their brothers that their spouses are the evil demons of the family! I swear it’s genetic! They’re born with a venom sac!”

The Lan brothers both reacted like someone had slapped a guqin string too hard. Lan Zhan’s back went ramrod straight. “Completely false,” he said, tone clipped, as if trying to maintain dignity while being verbally set on fire.

“Slander,” Lan Huan murmured, looking distressed enough to require spiritual tea. “A hypothetical Lan sister would have no such… venom sac—”

Wei Ying cut him off. “Oh, PLEASE. You two can’t even handle your Shufu properly, and you think you could handle a sister-in-law with EMOTIONAL POWERS?!”

A-Yuan burst into laughter so suddenly that he nearly rolled off the sofa.

Lan Zhan’s jaw clenched. “We are not weak-minded.”

“HAHAHAHA!” Wei Ying threw his head back, laughter echoing like a villain in a drama. “Lan Zhan, someone tells you, 'The cloud looks tired today,’ and you start reflecting on your karmic sins! Don’t LIE!”

Jingyi shouted, “TRUE!!”

A-Ling added, “He apologised to a plant once.”

A-Yuan burst into laughter so loud that he dropped over Nie Huaisang.

Everyone stared.

Jin Guangyao quietly chimed in, “I remember that day…”

Lan Zhan turned red near the ears.

Wei Ying continued ruthlessly, waving a soapy ladle like a battle flag. “Sister-in-laws have a TALENT—an inborn talent—to convince their brothers their spouses are EVIL. It’s like special training they get in the womb! Always whispering poison in their ears: ‘Your spouse is irresponsible,’ ‘Your spouse doesn’t respect tradition,’ ‘Your spouse folds towels like a chaotic criminal.’ They wouldn’t even have to try! It’s genetic!”

Lan Huan protested violently. “A-Ying!! A hypothetical sister would NOT manipulate us!”

Wei Ying said, “She absolutely WOULD! The moment she enters the house, she’d start rubbing your heads, whispering, ‘your husband is the problem.’ And you both—both of you!—would nod like dumb chickens!”

Lan Huan placed a hand on his heart. “Dumb… chickens?”

“Yes!” Wei Ying snapped. “CHICKENS. Intelligent chickens? No! Confused chickens!”

Lan Zhan frowned, dignified and offended. “No one can manipulate us with words.”

Wei Ying smirked. “Lan Zhan. Sweetie. A-Yuan tells you ‘I didn’t break the vase; gravity broke it’ and you agreed.”

A-Yuan shouted, “HE DID! HE DID AGREE!”

Lan Zhan looked at his child like he’d committed treason.

Then came the kill shot: “God hasn’t given you enough intelligence to resist a scorpion sister anyway. You two would be DONE. It’d be so easy for her to stroke your heads with lies—‘Oh A-Zhan, your husband is irresponsible,’ ‘Oh A-Huan, your spouse is so loud’—and BOOM! She’d poison you both before breakfast!”

Then—

Before they could retaliate, Jiang Cheng casually joined in and said, “I hate to say this, but for once, I agree with Wei Ying.”

The room FROZE.

Jin Guangyao dropped a melon seed.

Lan Huan froze like a statue. “You… what? A-Cheng??”

Jiang Cheng shrugged. “If the Lan family had a daughter with the same attitude as their Shufu, I would personally help Wei Ying to throw her out. No hesitation. No funeral rites”

Lan Huan gasped so loudly that A-Ling checked if he needed medical help. “You would WHAT?! You’d help him throw out our imaginary sister?!”

Jiang Cheng shrugged casually. “Absolutely. She’d be a nightmare.”

Lan Huan looked BETRAYED. “A-Cheng… my own husband… saying such things…”

Wei Ying beamed triumphantly like an unhinged king. “See?! Even my angry grape agrees! And he only tells the truth when he’s angry! He’s the only sane person in this house besides me!”

Jiang Cheng corrected, “I’m not even angry, that’s the worst part. And honestly, the Lan brothers are gullible. A sister could twist them into knots with two sentences.”

Lan Zhan looked at both of them with quiet horror. “You two are imagining a woman who doesn’t exist and insulting her.”

Wei Ying waved him off. “I’m PREVENTING future suffering. I’m saving our marriage, actually!”

Lan Zhan blinked. “By slandering imaginary family members?”

“Yes,” Wei Ying affirmed proudly.

A-Ling snorted. “He’s so smart.”

Lan Huan tried one more time, desperate. “A hypothetical Lan sister would never behave like this. She’d be sweet. Polite. Kind.”

Wei Ying scoffed. “Huan-gege, you said the SAME about your uncle before A-Cheng, and I met him!”

The entire room HOWLED.

Lan Huan clasped Jiang Cheng’s arm. “A-Cheng… please tell me you don’t believe that nonsense.”

Jiang Cheng: “I absolutely do.”

Lan Huan: gasped harder “What-”

Wei Ying cut him down instantly. “Don’t argue! I can SEE IT. Your imaginary sister would have judged me from the moment she stepped in—‘Why is Wei Ying barefoot?’ ‘Why is Wei Ying loud?’ ‘Why is Wei Ying not ‘proper’?’—Ugh! I swear, if you DID have a sister, and if I found she was unmarried? Before Jiang Cheng could even blink, I would personally find her a spouse and THROW her OUT. Good luck? No. GOOD RIDDANCE!”

Lan Zhan and Lan Huan looked like their souls had left their bodies for a quick coffee break.

A-Yuan flopped backwards laughing, kicking his legs in the air like a tiny goblin enjoying the downfall of empires.

Jiang Cheng just nodded solemnly like this was the most logical thing Wei Ying had ever said.

“Wei Ying, you assume the worst! Why would she judge you? You are—well—you are beloved by the family. She would surely appreciate your talents. Perhaps even find you endearing.”

Wei Ying stared Lan Huan down like a general planning a siege. “Oh sure, she’d find me ‘endearing’. Endearing like a stray dog, she wants to haul outside the gate!”

Lan Huan’s cracked. He blurted, louder than intended: “She would NOT!”

“That is incorrect,” Lan Zhan snapped, shockingly blunt for him.

Wei Ying jabbed a dripping water from a spoon towards both brothers. “Don’t lie! You two would defend that imaginary scorpion till the end of time! Let her attack me, and you’d be there holding her teacup!”

Lan Zhan inhaled sharply—an emotional outburst by his standards. “We would not.”

Lan Huan nodded vigorously, too vigorously for the Lan image. “Absolutely not. Wei Ying, we would never undermine you for anyone. Hypothetical or real!”

Wei Ying scoffed as if it were the funniest thing he had heard. “And another thing,” he said, pointing a spatula at the Lan brothers like a lawyer presenting Exhibit A of their stupidity. “You two don’t even REALISE how lucky you are.”

Lan Huan blinked.
Lan Zhan paused mid-silent suffering.
Even the kids leaned in.

“Lucky?” Lan Zhan echoed suspiciously.

“Yes, LUCKY!” Wei Ying huffed, rolling his eyes. “Because the heavens gifted you one of the rarest creatures in existence.”

Lan Huan blinked again. “Ah… A-Ying… whom do you refer to?”

Wei Ying looked at them like they were slow. “Who else? LI-JIE!”

And the room ERUPTED.

Jiang Cheng immediately perked up like someone slapped pride across his face. “Yes. Correct. Finally, something intelligent from your mouth.” He nodded sharply, arms folded, radiating brother energy. “A-Jie is a national treasure. A divine miracle. The gold standard.”

A-Yuan clapped his hands like he was praising a deity. “Auntie Yanli IS very nice!”

Even Jingyi chimed in, “She gives the best sweets!”

A-Ling: “Yeah, A-Niang doesn’t glare at us like other aunties!”

Lan Zhan and Lan Huan stared—bewildered, overwhelmed, and slightly scared—at the sudden unanimous chorus of praise.

Wei Ying continued, voice ringing with full dramatic commitment: “Li-Jie is an ANGEL among demon sister-in-laws! One in a MILLION! She’s the only sister-in-law in the entire world who DOESN’T cause wars! She makes peace, gives gifts, cooks like heaven, and doesn’t fill ears with poison!”

Jiang Cheng slapped a hand on his chest. “That’s my A-Jie. Speak louder. In fact, write it on the WALL.”

Wei Ying nodded gravely, like delivering the ultimate verdict. “You two… are REALLY lucky to have HER as your sister-in-law.”

Lan Huan stammered, “W-we appreciate her, yes, but—”

“But NOTHING!” Wei Ying cut in like a sword, eyes narrowed. “Because we ALL KNOW—ALL OF US—if YOU had a real sister? Oh ho ho…” He shook his head with tragic sympathy. “She would’ve been a NIGHTMARE.”

“TRUE,” Jiang Cheng declared instantly.

The Lan brothers looked mortally offended.

Lan Zhan frowned. “A-Ying. That is unreasonable.”

Lan Huan protested, “You cannot assume we would have an ill-tempered sister!”

Wei Ying barked a laugh loud enough to scare ancestors. “Oh, please! Look at your UNCLE! LOOK AT HIM! Your future jiejie or meimei would be cut from the SAME cursed cloth!”

Nie Huaisang practically choked laughing.
A-Ling wheezed.
A-Yuan looked delighted beyond salvation.

Lan Huan tried to defend his imaginary sibling, voice cracking: “A hypothetical Lan sister would be raised with discipline—”

“YES EXACTLY!” Wei Ying snapped. “She would’ve disciplined ME every morning with commentary! ‘Wei Ying, why are you sitting like this? Wei Ying, why are you breathing like that? Wei Ying, why do you exist?’ NO THANK YOU.”

Jiang Cheng nodded harder than ever. “Absolutely.”

Lan Huan’s soul nearly left his body. “A-Cheng… Please!”

Jiang Cheng said with conviction, “I will always support a mission to remove unnecessary people.”

Lan Zhan tried again, stubborn. “We would not be manipulated by a sister’s words.”

Wei Ying put his hands on his hips, dripping soap everywhere. “Oh my god, yes you WOULD. BOTH of you!” Wei Ying smacked the last dish in the dish bucket for emphasis. “So THANK GOD the heavens spared us. The Lan house has NO sister. Peace is maintained. My sanity remains.” He snapped his fingers. “CASE CLOSED.”

The Lan brothers opened their mouths—

Wei Ying turned to them with the face of a man who’d won. “Don’t even start. You will lose this argument before taking your first breath.”

And with that…

They shut up.

Crushed.

Silent.

Defeated.

Lan Huan looked at the ceiling like he was asking the heavens why he married into this madness.

And A-Yuan shouted joyfully: “WE SHOULD INVITE SHU GONGGONG NEXT WEEK!! I WANT PART TWO!”

Wei Ying: “You want to orphan yourself?!”

And the entire house imploded in laughter, shouting, protests, shrieks, and dramatic collapses.

~*~

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.

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Bonus Snippet: - (Inspired from: - https://youtube.com/shorts/vkEHF0eup5M?si=EyZyITwv-ebNQQkr

Those who know Bengali can watch it).

(This is a light fic, not like the ranting, passive-aggressive wars like before. Here, we see the negotiation powers of Wei Ying).

The afternoon sun was hitting the Lan–Wei apartment at that perfect slanted angle where every speck of dust becomes a tiny disco ball. Wei Ying, armed with a dusty old rag, a duster and the dramatic flair of a man forced into household chores by his own conscience, was standing at the window, dusting like he was slapping sense into it.

Behind him, the house was alive in its own comfortable way.

Huan-gege and A-Cheng had dropped by “just for tea.”
Which, of course, meant: Huan-gege: sitting on the couch with serene elegance, sipping chrysanthemum tea, radiating calm.
A-Cheng: sprawled like he owned the place, one slipper half off, loudly crunching something that sounded suspiciously like chips he stole from the kitchen.

These two visited so often that it was practically a second home. The reason was perfectly logical: their own apartment was only a few blocks away. And the Jin family? Oh, they were a whole metro-station away—basically another planet—so their visits were limited to ceremonial occasions and the occasional surprise Jin Ling invasion.

Wei Ying wiped the glass one last time, squinted, and then—

Something moved on the street below.

A woman.
With a bundled tapestry-like bag balanced on her hip.
A singsong voice floating up the narrow lane:

“Xīn yīfú! Piányi měi yīfú! Beautiful dresses, low price!”

He blinked.

A dress seller.
Old-school, walking through neighbourhoods like the Indian ferrywalas—except in Mandarin, with a stronger hustle and a bigger bag.

Wei Ying lit up instantly. “Ohhh—fantastic. Perfect. Just what I didn’t know I needed.” He leaned forward, both palms flat on the windowsill, practically hanging halfway out. “Ayi! Ayi! Up here!” he shouted, waving his rag like a victory flag.

Huan-gege paused mid-sip. A-Cheng leaned forward with a chip still dangling between his fingers.

Wei Ying pointed downward like a traffic marshal. “Come up! Third floor! Room 305! Bring everything—you know, the whole wardrobe-on-your-back!”

The dress seller looked up, spotted him, and her face split into a wide, business-ready grin. She nodded enthusiastically and trotted inside the building, her slippers making that familiar flap-flap-flap sound on the stairs.

Wei Ying shut the window with a satisfied thump. His whole mood was suspiciously bright today: humming tunelessly, dusting the window frame with something close to joy, practically vibrating with domestic cheer.

Behind him, Lan Zhan—ever the silent auditor of household happenings—turned his head slightly. “What,” he asked in that calm-iceberg tone, “was that about?”

Wei Ying threw the dust rag onto the nearest chair, like it owed him money. “Oh, that? Nothing big. That ayi roams this neighbourhood almost every day. I’ve been seeing her for weeks. Thought maybe today I’ll actually check what she has.” He shrugged casually, but his eyes had that retail-therapy sparkle. “If she has something good, I’ll buy. If not, at least she’ll go home happy she tried.”

Lan Zhan took this in with a slow, approving nod. “Mn.”

Wei Ying continued, pacing with energy. “Plus, you know how these sellers are—sometimes they give absolute steals. Sometimes they’ll quote prices like they’re selling silk straight from the imperial palace.”
He grinned. “Let’s see which mood she’s in today.”

From the sofa, Lan Huan lifted his head with the enthusiasm of a man who loved a good household deal. “That’s wonderful,” he said warmly. “I was actually thinking of buying new home clothes myself. Good timing.”

Wei Ying brightened, finger-gunning him. “Exactly! Group shopping spirit. Today, we refresh the wardrobe. Retail synergy.”

Before either adult could continue their home economics commentary, a soft pat-pat-pat of little feet echoed from upstairs.

A-Yuan floated down the staircase like a tiny spy parachuting into enemy territory. His hair was slightly messy, his eyes suspiciously narrowed. He had heard something. A sound that never escaped his notice.

Baba calling a seller.

Which meant…
Something will be bought.

Wei Ying spotted him and sighed in mock-exasperation. “Ah, look, the Shopping Guardian has arrived.”

A-Yuan stiffened. “I just… came to drink water!”

Lan Zhan’s eyebrow lifted.
Lan Huan politely turned away to hide his smile.
A-Cheng snorted from the sofa.

Before A-Yuan could cook up a better excuse, a gentle knock-knock-knock sounded from the door.

A cheerful voice followed: “Nín hǎo! I brought everything up!”

Wei Ying practically hopped to the door, smoothing his hair like he was welcoming an honoured guest. “Coming, coming!” he called, already reaching for the handle.

He opened the door, revealing the smiling ayi with her giant bundle of fabric treasures slung over her shoulder—bright, patterned, folded, and full of possibilities.

Wei Ying stepped aside with a flourish. “Come in, come in! Welcome!”

She entered, panting slightly but still delighted.

~*~

The seller settled herself on the living-room floor, spreading out her bundle with the smooth competence of someone who’d done this a thousand times. One tug of a knot, a flick of her wrist, and the fabric spilt out in tidy layers like a portable market stall blooming open.

Wei Ying immediately plopped onto the floor beside her, cross-legged like a kid waiting for story time. Lan Huan, gentle and elegant as always, settled gracefully next to them.

“Let me open everything, ah—you’ll like these,” she said, already untying the knot with the speed of someone defusing a bomb.

And then there were the spectators.

On the couch sat the judging panel:

• Lan Zhan: calm, impassive, dignified. The unofficial CFO of the house.
• Jiang Cheng: arms folded, eyebrow raised, ready to find flaws in anything for sport.
• A-Yuan: perched between them like a tiny hawk on high alert, eyes narrowed, monitoring every move, every fabric, every suspicious price tag.

His senses were heightened. His mission clear.
Protect Baba from being financially bamboozled. (😂)

The seller unfurled her bundle—and an avalanche of colours spilt across the carpet. Bright reds, sky blues, floral prints, polka dots, soft cottons, and mystery fabrics that had probably survived three dynasties.

Wei Ying’s eyes sparkled. “Ohhhh! Look at that one! So cute! Soft! Perfect for home wear!”

He grabbed a pastel blue shirt with tiny cloud prints.

The seller beamed. “Good for summer, very soft material, special design—only 150 yuan.”

Silence.

Heavy, pointed silence.

Everyone looked at Wei Ying.

Then Jiang Cheng made a sound like a dying cat. “…150? For THIS? This is worth 70 outside.”

The seller clutched her chest dramatically. “Ay yo! Young man, you wound me. This is premium quality! Soft as moonlight!”

Lan Huan, ever polite, touched the fabric. “…It’s quite soft, actually.”

A-Yuan leaned forward, eyes narrowing to slits. “Premium? But Ayi, I’ve seen this in the shop near school. It was 85 yuan.” (Classic A-Yuan 😂)

The seller froze mid-smile.

Wei Ying: “My son has a database in his head, don’t mind him.”

The seller laughed nervously, immediately switching tactics. “Ah—well—that one is 120! Discount! Good price!”

Lan Zhan simply stared at her, expression unchanged, but the seller visibly flinched like she’d been caught cheating in a test.

The seller lifted another shirt — soft cotton, pale yellow — and announced the price in a cheerful tone.

Wei Ying nodded once.
Lan Huan hummed thoughtfully.
No surprise, no protest — just quiet processing this time.

“It’s light.”
“Feels breathable.”
“Colour is nice.”

The seller visibly relaxed. At last—reasonable customers.

Wei Ying reached for another shirt, calmly unfolding it. “What’s the price for this one?” he asked in a soft, steady voice.

The seller brightened and told him—a number slightly higher than the previous ones.

Lan Huan gave a small nod. “Material seems decent.”

From the couch, no one intervened. No input. No commentary.

Just a quiet, almost formal evaluation session.

The seller, encouraged, brought out more designs — reds, pastels, cotton blends.

Prices came.
Wei Ying and Lan Huan listened.
Quiet nods.
Careful touches.
Very prudent energy in the room.

The seller beamed.
This family was polite. Gentle. Easy.

…Little did she know what was coming next.

~*~

The floor was covered in neat piles of folded fabric by the time they finished looking through everything—cotton prints, soft florals, a couple of sporty T-shirts, two cardigans that were almost nice, and one dress that looked suspiciously like it had been in storage since 1998.

Wei Ying and Lan Huan sat back slightly, surveying the spread like two board members conducting a quarterly review.

Wei Ying inhaled.
Exhaled.
Smiled politely.

“Mn. These are all… nice,” he said, tone warm and diplomatic, the kind of voice you use when you’re about to reject something without causing an international crisis.

Lan Huan nodded gently. “Yes, very nice. You have a lot of variety.”

The seller’s eyebrows lifted with delight.
She leaned forward eagerly. “So you’ll buy? Which ones?”

Wei Ying shook his head.
Slow. Polite. Firm.

“No,” he said calmly. “I’ll let you know later.”

The seller blinked. “…What do you mean by later? You won’t buy anything now?” A tiny thread of panic slipped into her voice.

Wei Ying stayed serene—frighteningly serene. “No,” he repeated with that soft head-shake. “No, no…”

The seller frowned, confused. “But you called me from upstairs. You said—”

Wei Ying cut her off gently.
But cleanly.
Like a lawyer sliding a file shut.

“I didn’t say I will buy,” he clarified. “I said, Come — I will see what you have. I never promised anything. Not even once.”

He held up two fingers. “I said: ‘Come up. I want to see.’ That is all.”

The seller deflated slightly. “Well… ah… yeah… I guess…”

Wei Ying gave her a sympathetic nod — the kind that somehow still meant absolutely no mercy. “Let me check some other stores,” he continued smoothly, tone polite but immovable. “Let me compare prices. If something elsewhere satisfies me, I’ll buy there. If not…” he shrugged lightly, “then obviously I’ll buy from you.”

He smiled like this was the most reasonable arrangement in the world. “See? No promise made. No misunderstanding.”

The seller nodded slowly, as if trying to convince herself, too. “…Yeah. Yes, right…”

Wei Ying unscrewed his water bottle from nearby and took a long, perfectly casual drink. Lan Huan watched with the serene expression of someone who had seen Wei Ying negotiate out of worse situations.

The seller rose to her feet, gathering her bundle with a resigned sigh. “Well… I’m going then,” she said, a little deflated but still hopeful.

Wei Ying waved with professional politeness, bottle still in hand. “Yes, please. Thank you for coming.”

She walked toward the door, adjusting the strap of her bundle. At the threshold, she turned back brightly, forcing optimism back into her voice: “Okay then! Bye! Let me know if you want any! I’ll drop by again!”

Wei Ying gave her a charming, reassuring smile. “I will, I will. Take care.”

The seller finally stepped out, closing the door gently behind her.

Silence.
The door clicked shut.

~*~

Wei Ying set the water bottle down with a victorious little thump, like he’d just finished leading a high-stakes board meeting that went exactly his way. He turned to Lan Huan with the air of an auntie settling into post-battle gossip. “See, Huan-gege,” he said in that calm, after-aunty-war tone, “didn’t I do the right thing?”

Lan Huan, wise as ever, waved a hand. “Yes, yes. Perfectly handled. Now if she doesn’t come anymore, then—”

Wei Ying immediately cut in with a dismissive wave of his hand. “She will go, and ten more will come! There are lots in the market, lots walking around the neighbourhood. If she doesn’t want to sell, then fine—” he shrugged dramatically, “there are plenty of other people. What’s the big deal? I didn’t promise anything.” He snapped his fingers, trying to remember a word. “What’s that word again? That… big word?”

From the couch, A-Yuan piped up helpfully, like a tiny dictionary: “Commitment!”

Wei Ying pointed at him. “Yes! Exactly! Commitment, right. I didn’t say anything like that. Nothing. Zero.” He spread his hands. “Then? Everything is sorted. I’ll see what others say. If those satisfy me, I’ll buy from them. If not, well—there are lots of others out there.”

Through all of this, Lan Huan nodded along like a supportive consultant brought in to validate a CEO’s decisions. “Yes, yes, Wei Ying is right. Very reasonable.”

On the couch, Jiang Cheng and Lan Zhan exchanged a look — equal parts incredulous, resigned, and deeply aware that they themselves could never negotiate like this even if their lives depended on it.

Jiang Cheng muttered under his breath, “We should probably learn this from them.”

Lan Zhan gave a quiet, thoughtful hum. “…Mn.”

And just like that, the apartment settled back into a calm, lazy hush — the kind that came after a harmless storm of bargaining philosophy and domestic wisdom — marking the end of an unexpectedly peaceful day.