Zhou Zhan runs across the hallways of the private floor his uncle had bought once he knew Zhou Zhan was serious about teaching kids classical music. His mantra, that if were you a cultivator you could hear from just a few li away, No running is allowed in the Cloud Recesses. Zhou Zhan would write 10 copies of Virtue and Conduct while upside down later, for he was late now.
Forgive me, Uncle.
Luckily, no one was around to witness the unflappable music teacher run across the hallway quiet ungracefully.
He was late because of one reason and one reason alone, and it was his own fault.
Zhou Zhan walks the few feet to his classroom, quickly gaining back his composure.
He has but one class today and hopefully his students were not too punctual.
What has he become to wish that his students were late because he was, as well?
He opens the door calmly and sees that his two students were seated, their guqins ready to be played.
The students, upon seeing Zhou Zhan, stand up and greet him.
“I apologize for being late.”
The students, flustered at having their teacher apologize and bow to them, stammer out Teacher, there’s no need and We sort of just arrived because there was traffic on the way.
Zhou Zhan internally breathes a sigh of relief. He then directs his students to sit and thus, he begins his lesson.
Zhou Zhan wakes up at exactly five in the morning, his internal body clock still trained to the GusuLan’s schedule.
A soft snuffle makes him turn his head, and he is met by the most beautiful sight he has ever witnessed. Han (Wei) Ying sleeping peacefully, his face snuggling close to Zhou Zhan’s shoulder. His husband’s hand was resting gently on Zhou Zhan’s chest, right on top of where his heart would be.
Zhou Zhan has witnessed this scene for more than a thousand years already, yet he has not grown tired of it. He is always amazed at the beauty that his husband exudes even in his sleep.
Han Ying murmurs something incoherent in his sleep, snuggling even closer to Zhou Zhan’s shoulder and smushing his cheek on said shoulder. Zhou Zhan couldn’t help but let out a fond huff and softly kissed the crown of his husband’s head.
Zhou Zhan could spend hours just staring at Han Ying, asleep or not.
“Lan Zhan, look at me!”
Those words his husband used to say to him, he had taken them to heart and he has never stopped looking at Han Ying. Wei Cheng once caught him staring at a napping Han Ying and, if not for his sleeping Da-shixiong, he’d have shouted at Zhou Zhan.
Hearing the small snuffles from his sleeping husband, Zhou Zhan tightens the hold he has on him. He has the urge to shower Han Ying’s face with kisses, but he knows his husband has been tired lately, helping a nearly panicking Wei Cheng plan his wedding (Zhou Huan apparently needed only a little help from Zhou Zhan but Han Ying took it upon himself to help his little brother) and watching over the kids while his Meili Da-Jie chucks Wei Qing at the party coordinators for the reception.
They really didn’t have any problems while organizing their wedding. But then again, they only had a small wedding and Han YingHua had mentioned they’d be wedded again after Wei Cheng and Zhou Huan’s wedding. Zhou Zhan dreads it because he knows Zhou Huan and his brother would not waste time to pester him with what he prefers since Zhou Huan knows Zhou Zhan will only say “Whatever Han Ying wants” and that is not enough to organize their wedding.
Zhou Zhan will worry when it comes. Until then, he’ll take care of Han Ying for that is what he’ll always do.
“Aren’t you supposed to be teaching students right now?”
Zhou Zhan does not flick his eyes to the clock even as he felt Han Ying stretch beside him and snuggle closer.
“Still have time.”
Han Ying huffs and Zhou Zhan feels the ghost of a peck on his shoulder as his husband slowly goes back to sleep.
A few moments of silence spent staring at his husband, interrupted only by Han Ying’s soft snuffling, Zhou Zhan does check the time and nearly rolls out of bed in shock. He had stopped his abrupt actions, remembering his sleeping husband.
The clock read 8:30 AM and he has a class at nine. Zhou Zhan carefully extricates himself from his husband’s grip and missing his warmth already but needs must.
He hastily gets ready and manages to finish the oatmeal he prepared before legging it to the parking lot.
He does drive with the speed limit in mind. Thankfully, traffic and the traffic lights seem to cooperate with him.
He arrives at the building with 5 minutes to spare and he remembers that the elevators to this building take a few minutes to arrive. He sighs. This is the first time he’s going to be late to class.
Three long minutes passed before the elevator arrived and Zhou Zhan impatiently presses the floor number, huffing.
He arrives after a minute of listening to the jarring elevator music. As soon as the doors open, he runs.
No one must learn of this.