#vrishchika

His beauty is disarming, but Wei Ying is unmoved. He's married to the most beautiful man in existence, after all. But he is curious. What is this strange, beautiful man doing in the middle of the woods? And while he looks the man over, cautious of any sharp movement the man could make, he steps forward. Though contrary to his beautiful appearance, his body is but a corpse and it is difficult to hide when he staggers and what appears to be his arm drops down onto the floor. Wei Ying hears someone gagging behind him, but he cannot take his eyes off the man; every instinct in his body is screaming about the danger in front of them.

Just when he is about to speak, the man's face changes to a look of pained horror, a look that the stiffness of a corpse shouldn't be able to achieve. There is something about the way his jaw moves, that makes it seem as if he was trying to speak, but no sound leaves his red, red lips.

"Stop," Wei Ying says, putting the force of his cultivation into the word. The corpse's mouth opens even wider, and Wei Ying senses it before anything, "Cover your ears!" he shouts, but it is too late, there are some indistinguishable whispers he catches before his hands reach his ears, and he doubts any of the juniors were fast enough even as he hears their swords immediately drop to the floor.

He wracks his brain to match the odd corpse with any of the descriptions he remembers from his studies and it suddenly clicks into place. He remembers tales of bewitching creatures. Beings that can ensnare and seduce with their voice and their beauty. Beings that can control the living mind as Wei Ying controls corpses. He remembers tales of how cultivators of immense strength would drop their swords and simply submit to these creatures, allowing them to consume their Qi without protest.

His eyes flicker towards his juniors, alarm stirring in his chest. What can he do? Think. Think, Wei Ying!

And he reaches a conclusion, the corpse uses its voice to control, to influence, and had Wei Ying not used his own to do the same? Resentful energy and spiritual energy are almost similar, it's risky, but there isn't much else to do. He already perceives the juniors trying to walk past him, and he is overcome with waves after waves of compulsion from his small amount of exposure, so Wei Ying does the only thing he can think of.

He gathers the power towards his throat. His voice laced with command, he opens his mouth and sings not a real tune, at first, but simply unbridled power that cuts off the corpse's control over the juniors.

But he cannot just wrest control; he needs to suppress the corpse, and that takes more than random notes. He slides into a familiar song, lyrics that Lan Zhan shared but have never been sung before in deference to their usual duets. The juniors have never heard Wei-qianbei sing before; they have heard his tuneful humming, whistling, and music, but not his true singing voice. It renders them silent. Wei Ying's voice is resonant and it bounces off the surrounding trees and rocks, becoming amplified. The effect is otherworldly, unlike anything they have ever experienced.

It halts the strange creature in his tracks. He sways dazedly. Something about the expression is almost covetous.

Wei Ying hears Sizhui whisper his name in worry. He is his father's son and has somehow inherited all of Hanguang-jun's protectiveness. Even now, he takes a shaky step forward to stand before Wei Ying. But there's no reason he should worry; Wei Ying's control over his power is absolute, his control over the corpse-creature the same.

He changes the intent of his power, the tone of his singing, to lure the creature to lower its guard and step closer. He trusts that Sizhui knows what to do, that the other juniors will assist as his voice lulls it into submission. The creature stumbles forward, his hand stretched out towards Wei Ying. He sways with every step and Wei Ying tracks his movements carefully.

"Good boy," he croons, maintaining a singing tone in his voice, "Whatever shall we do with you?"

The corpse's hand is still outstretched and his expression is still mesmerized. Wei Ying reaches out and closes his fingers around the hand, keeping his voice mellow and soothing. "You're a strong one, aren't you?" he sings, ignoring Sizhui's alarmed noise.

The corpse will only need to twist his grip to break Wei Ying's arm but something tells him he's safe. He leans forward, curious, "Wei Ying," and Wei Ying freezes. He doesn't let off his control but it is enough for the corpse to pull him closer, a hand reaching up to caress his hair—he is aware of the gasped whispers by the juniors of, 'Hanguang-jun,' the juniors who were just beginning to take control—but this is something out of his expectation. A normally high-level corpse of this type would be troublesome on its own, but one that could mimic?

The danger levels have increased far more than what juniors can handle; Wei Ying pivots in his singing, pulls Sizhui behind him and crowds back, keeping the juniors behind him. He pauses, for the barest moment, to say, "Flare."

That snaps Sizhui to action, and as Wei Ying resumes singing, voice louder and louder, he draws a flare out of his robes and sets it off, the sparkling blue of the fireworks temporarily catching the creature's attention, making Wei Ying snap forward and cup the corpse's face, physically drawing his attention back towards him.

It is intimate, the way he angles his body and draws the creature in. Something burns in him. He has never touched anyone but his Lan Zhan like this, with so much tenderness.

The creature that mimics his husband's voice seems to mimic his affection too. Wei Ying cringes as cold fingers trace his cheek, trailing dangerously close to his neck. One slip, and Wei Ying could potentially lose his life.

"Wei Ying," The corpse whispers in his husband's voice, and something dark stirs within him. His lips twitch into an alluring smile and Wei Ying has his hand slowly reaching up and caressing its cold skin. He thinks the eyes shimmer an amber shade, for they are nowhere near the molten gold of his husband’s. He's all too aware of this cheap imitation's intent and responds in kind.

Wei Ying ignores the yells of his nephew, the sound of another flare going up into the night sky; his hand is coated in resentful energy as it reaches the back of the corpse's neck, and he maintains eye contact with it, his voice softer to only reach the corpse.

It is completely enamoured, that is why when Wei Ying makes a hand sign to the juniors to tell them to leave, the creature doesn't react. It is like a careful, possessive lover, but, unlike his husband, there is no real care behind its actions as it closes in on him. The resentful energy on Wei Ying's hands increases, solidifies, a black, hateful knife.

When he drives it directly into the corpse-creature's neck, spearing it up into its skull, the creature makes a weak, pained groan in that facsimile of his husband's voice, and Wei Ying shouldn't feel the way he does—it is but a creature who had taken up the face of his beloved—but to hear the wounded noises it makes, trying to garner his sympathy, Wei Ying cannot help but feel that sympathy. Wei Ying should know that the hands around his neck are the ones that wouldn't hesitate to kill him, so very cold, lacking his husband's warmth.

He raises his voice, and sings a sharp tune, and the corpse whines once more before it’s rendered mute, opening its mouth wide with a final hissed, “Wei Ying!”

Wei Ying's eyes widen because, for a second, before he tightens his hands, he catches a glimpse of his husband, pain and grief on his face that he hasn't seen in years. The corpse falls, its weakness stabbed through, unable to move again and Wei Ying shudders, feeling so incredibly off-kilter.

He needs to see Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan is fine, he's sure, but the look on the creature's face, the timbre of its voice--it's almost enough to overwhelm.

The juniors, still near enough to catch the sudden silence, creep back through the trees, worried looks on their faces as they take in the look on their teacher's face, the still form of the corpse-creature on the ground.

"Xian-gege?" Sizhui starts, clearly shaken if he's reverted to that form of address. He continues forward as if to grasp Wei Ying's shoulder, but Wei Ying needs a moment. Maybe it is the leftover effects of the corpse, maybe it is his own fears and concerns.

But he takes in a sharp breath and pulls his mouth into a smile, "Now then, shouldn't we return? I assume none of you are hurt?" He looks them over, ignoring the sneaked glances from the dazed juniors as they stand up on their shaking legs, "Come along now—" he places his hand on top of Sizhui's, which shakes almost unnoticeably.

Sizhui wants to reassure him, but he knows already that Wei-qianbei wouldn't feel comforted until he lays his eyes on Hanguang-jun. Sizhui has seen enough of their love to know this is one of the few things that can rattle his indomitable Xian-gege. If anything happens to Hanguang-jun, Wei-qianbei would—

Sizhui draws his mind away from grim thoughts and watches as Wei-qianbei steps forward to the body, pulling out his qiankun pouch. Suddenly, there's a twitch of movement from nearby. As if called by Wei Ying and Lan Sizhui's thoughts, the austere white of Lan Zhan's robes appears, and he comes to a graceful halt near the corpse-creature.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying can't help but exhale in relief, "We're fine."

Hanguang-jun casts a look at the corpse-creature, then back at Wei Ying. He looks over Wei Ying completely before turning his gaze towards the juniors while moving towards Wei Ying, almost a split second of a glance but enough to know they're fine; it wouldn't have been noticed if Sizhui hadn't been looking for it. Then, he reaches up to caress Wei Ying’s face and Wei Ying melts into it, feeling the warmth seep into his skin.

"Wei Ying," Wei Ying can't describe how relieved he feels when the familiar scent of sandalwood envelopes him. It takes but a glance for Lan Zhan to see past his welcoming smile and glimpse the truly shaken core of him.

"Go forth, Sizhui, we'll join you soon." Lan Zhan commands and Wei Ying almost protests. He doesn't want the children away from him. Lan Zhan just shakes his head and pulls him close, "Breathe, center yourself."

Wei Ying presses his forehead to Lan Zhan's shoulder and sighs. Lan Zhan is here. Lan Zhan is safe, solid, and strong. That's all he cares about, and he feels his arms encircling him so he completely rests his weight upon his husband, his head on Lan Zhan's chest, hearing his heartbeat go thump thump thump.

He feels the earlier fight leaving his body as he relaxes against him, matching their breaths together. Wei Ying wants to stay there with him, the forest trees and the silence that was eerie and offsetting earlier feels serene and calming. But they can’t, because they have to get back, everyone in need of rest, the kids in need of checking to see if they're all actually okay.

Then there's the issue of the corpse-creature; research will need to be done when they are back in Cloud Recesses, to figure out what it is and if there might be more. Wei Ying breathes in the sandalwood scent of his husband, then steps away, qiankun pouch in hand. The corpse is where it had fallen, and he kneels next to it, Lan Zhan a comforting presence next to him.

"Aiya," He says, "They tried but couldn't get close to your perfection, Lan Zhan."

His husband huffs but keeps a steady, warm hand on his back. It is a reassuring presence that makes it easier to examine the body. Wei Ying runs his eyes along the tall body, mind stirring, "Who could be behind this?" How and why did they mimic Lan Zhan of all people? Wei Ying can't help but feel concerned. Lan Zhan hums in response but offers no commentary; he's probably still in a protective, vigilant state. Wei Ying smiles fondly and kisses him on his cheek, "let's return then,” he says, and gets up after putting it away.

Lan Zhan pulls him closer to himself; maybe he knows what worried Wei Ying as he keeps a comforting presence by his side. They walk to the Juniors standing ahead, who stop their whispers as soon as they get close. Wei Ying looks them over once again. They look at him with a slightly dazed look, but are steady on their feet. Wei Ying frowns, maybe it's the effects of leftover energy?

Jin Ling starts to say something about heading back to Jinlintai. As if Wei Ying would let him! It's almost midnight, and the night hunt has taken them to the far reaches of Gusu-Lan territory, a long trip of a couple days to Lanling-Jin territory. "None of that," Wei Ying chides, feeling like himself again. "Back to the village for all of us; Hanguang-jun needs to make sure there are no lingering effects."

Jin Ling half-scowls, but doesn't deny or try to argue back, and there's a blur as Sizhui all but pulls Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji into a hug. Jin Ling sees Sizhui’s shoulders shake slightly and he looks away. Terrifying situation or not, that illusion had felt all too real. It was as if it were Hanguang-jun standing before them, the mannerism, the voice, how he...he—

Before he can think more he feels a pull at his wrist and he feels the warmth of another person around him. He hears Jingyi make a startled noise as the other two are also pulled into a clustered little group hug. Jin Ling’s face flushes red and he opens his mouth to protest but doesn't push them away.

“You're safe,” Wei Ying says, as the teens start to pull away after a few moments. If a few of them have reddened eyes, or barely-there tear tracks down their cheeks, neither he nor Lan Zhan mention it.

"Aiya," he gives Sizhui an extra pat on the head, a smile finally pulling at his face as he takes in the juniors' despondent looks. "What is all this? I would think someone died if I came upon you all like this! Come now, back to the village.”

"Wei Ying!" Lan Zhan calls suddenly and Wei Ying doesn't understand why. He looks up at his husband, only to see his eyes shining with concern, perhaps even some panic.

"What? Lan Zha—"

An abrupt wave of dizziness overcomes him and he falters, feeling something dripping down his nose. He touches his upper lip shakily, his limbs starting to feel heavy. His vision swims and Lan Zhan catches him immediately as he sways forward. Something cold is settling within him. "Lan Zhan," he croaks. His vision is turning black from the corner of his eyes, and Lan Zhan is saying something but he can't hear it, it’s muffled and sounds so far away.

Wei Ying hates the feeling that floods him, the wave of cold dread that he hasn't felt in a long time. His hair stands up as he feels ghosts of the touches. They linger on the back of his neck, his face, his arms where the corpse had touched him, among the distant noises, he hears a clear, sharp "Wei Ying," but it sounds so odd, so unfamiliar despite it being his husband’s voice and that's when he crumples, losing all control of his limbs.

The cheer and safety of mere moments before has fled, and Wei Ying can't stamp out the panic that grips him as his breath hitches. He's vaguely aware, as if he is not truly in possession of his own body anymore, that his sweet husband, his Lan Zhan, has pulled his body up into his arms.

That awareness lessens even more as Lan Zhan's distant, warped voice sends out some sharp commands, and then he feels the slap of wind on his face and something isn't right. His senses are fading but he has practiced dual cultivation with Lan Zhan for several years now. He's intimately familiar with his husband's core. Something isn't right because—

—they're running. The wind is against his face. He remembers the trapped look of despair. His husband commands the children but something isn't right. He's leaving something behind. The arms carrying him are familiar but recognition slips him and he becomes increasingly aware as a sharp pain increases from his arm and he gasps, because it feels as if fire is under his skin, it moves from his arm and reaches up to his neck and it increases. Wei Ying has always had a large tolerance to pain, but he is in little control and he cannot stop himself as he lets out a pained scream, the wind feels faster as Lan Zhan—

—not right, not right, not right—

—he wakes up to the dark wood and white paint of the Cloud Recesses. He does not move, cataloging his body, the sensations, what he remembers. There was an oppressive feeling of pain, of wrongness, that is now mostly gone. Did they fly back? How long has it been?

He feels like he's forgetting something, forgetting; he thinks it over, the body, the pain, and reaches up his arm and sure enough, there are bright red marks, beginning from his arm, spreading out like spilled ink on paper, they resemble a spiders web as they crawl upwards, up along until they disappear into his clothes and he had no doubt they reach till his neck. What about his face? He reaches up to try and touch but before he can, the door slides open as Lan Zhan steps through.

Wei Ying's entire focus shifts towards the Second Jade. Lan Zhan looks pristine as always, calm like nothing can disturb him. His movements are steady, unhurried. He sets his things aside and walks into the Jingshi casually. There's no trace of urgency or worry in him. Wei Ying feels his heart grow cold. His Lan Zhan wouldn't have been as calm, nor would his Lan Zhan look at him the way it did, unmoving and—the same way that thing had.

"Lan Zhan" comes and sits by his bed, eyes lock over him, dark and amber. "Wei Ying," he—it—reaches up a hand, and cradles his cheek, the same way his husband did. Except, its thumb inches towards lips and it is colder than ice. Wei Ying acts unbothered, showing a soft smile as he puts his hand over the one on his face.

"I'm fine, Lan Zhan!" he says softly. The suspicion grows when he remembers the red veining on his body, when he realizes that the touch isn't as tangible as it should be.

Touching the creature's hand feels like holding a dust mote, and he abruptly realizes that he isn't sure if this even is the Jingshi. It is the same pristine colors, of course, but their possessions seem blurred, as if only half-existing. There is no familiar, comforting scent of sandalwood. Is it an illusion? A dream? Is this creature a figment of his imagination? Or is it something else? He tries to access his core and can't grasp anything. He tries to summon resentful energy but it slips through his fingers like water. His only choice is to get information.

"What happened?" he asks in a soft tone he reserves for his husband. He angles his body to be welcoming, like he would with Lan Zhan. None of his actions give any indication of his suspicions. "Are the children safe?"

Lan Zhan nods, "They're safe. Lan Xichen is looking after them and a healer is examining them. You are the only one to be harmed. We do not know the nature of your injuries—" Verbose. Too verbose. Lan Xichen, not xiongzhang or Xichen. Even his imagination wouldn't conjure an illusion so inaccurate. This isn't just a simple case of his mind making things up.

The last thing he remembers is Lan Zhan, his Lan Zhan sending waves of spiritual energy and holding him close, so he can rest assured his body is safe. The hand slips from his cheek, as the "Lan Zhan"—no, the corpse, raises his chin making him look directly at it.

"What is Wei Ying thinking of?" it croons and Wei Ying looks away from it, and bites his lip as way of disguising his eyes roaming over the interior of the Jingshi, now that he looks carefully, the arrangement of the bed, the dresser, everything is out of order—the hand on his chin tightens, "Wei Ying, I'm right here."

The meaning is subtle, and Wei Ying turns to it, his expression as if hesitant, "I..I'm worried about the kids.." he takes on a concerned expression, not entirely faked, "Can you take me to see them?"

A pulse of Lan Zhan's--his Lan Zhan's spiritual energy abruptly floods him, and then is gone. It is a miracle he is able to keep his expression level and unbothered by it, but he's beginning to put the pieces together. He needs to keep the creature distracted, talking.

"Wei Ying," the creature wearing Lan Zhan's body says, almost chiding, "they need their rest, and you need your own rest. I am here with you; do not worry about them for the time being.”

Wei Ying knows it isn't the right time to push. He decides on a different approach, "You know how I get when there's a mystery to solve, Lan Zhan!" he protests with a playful smile, "You can't expect me to rest without any explanation? What happened? How did I get hurt? What did the healers say?" Simple questions, things he would've asked Lan Zhan in any case.

There's a lingering heat of Lan Zhan's qi swirling around within him, too weak to actually heal him or bring him out of this state, but enough to sharpen his perception and remove his pain. He knows his husband is trying to save him and there's no person more capable than his Lan Zhan. Something in him settles at that. Let Lan Zhan work from the outside to resolve the situation. Wei Ying will work from the inside to get more information.

The expression that crosses the corpse's face, of being caught off-guard, seems so foreign on Lan Zhan's face, but it composes itself and lets go of his chin, and seems to contemplate before deciding on an expression of utmost gentleness and care. "This," it says, as it reaches to touch the back of his neck, where one of the webbings must be, "is a mark of possession." A hint of darkness, desire, flashes in its eyes, "It means Wei Ying's qi has been flooded with another’s—" Wei Ying tenses, but the corpse has no suspicion in its eyes, meaning it was referring to that moment in the forest—"and Wei Ying is one of the few who have been able to reject it, so these," it reaches down to his arm, tracing over the red, "remain as a reminder." It looks enthralled, pleased even.

And Wei Ying feels his lips press flat. "I don't like them at all!" He pretends to whine, shows how he absolutely abhors the idea of it, feeling satisfied when it frowns in displeasure. "I don't like any marks other than the ones Lan Zhan makes,” he adds, looking at the corpse through his lashes.

Its facade almost slips, with the anger appearing on its face, and Wei Ying fights back a smug smile when another rush of his husband's warm spiritual energy wraps around him. The corpse-creature's face blurs for a moment, with that rush of qi, but then resettles. It looks distinctly displeased, though it tries to mask the expression with one of fondness that looks laughably fake. Wei Ying does not laugh.

"If my Lan Zhan wanted to make some marks," Wei Ying says coyly, trailing off in a suggestive manner. The creature seems to freeze and flicker, as if it is wholly unsure of what to do with that. And Wei Ying pulls back just as the corpse makes a hesitant hand gesture and says, softly, "Of course I'm joking Lan Zhan, you know your Wei Ying, I can't relax until I see the kids, and—" he adds seeing it fume "—you too, I know you're worried about them but they're strong! So they'll be fine!"

Wei Ying finishes his 'assurance' and Lan Zhan succeeds. There's a towering surge of qi coursing through him, ready to pull him back, his to command. By now, he is so familiar with his husband's qi that he can use it as his own. He sees how it makes the creature's eyes widen and falter. He smiles coyly, tapping his chin as the binds holding him to this place snap one by one.

"Now, who are you, my dear friend?" he asks as Lan Zhan's power unseals his own. The core he has cultivated so diligently pulses with power and the remaining binds disintegrate. Before the illusionary world around him can disappear, he reaches forward and slams a palm against the creature's chest, a smile of triumph curling at his lips.

"There you are," he whispers and drags them both to the real world that awaits them. His eyes flicker towards the real Lan Zhan, who looks pale and strikingly furious, and smirks coyly, "Lan Zhan! Someone had the audacity to steal your Wei Ying from you!"

The fury in his husband's eyes brightens into an inferno ready to destroy the most powerful of foes, and Wei Ying can't help but quiver in delight, in satisfaction. No words are needed between them, their souls and actions in perfect harmony. The creature that had taken him, and now is beholden to him, collapses and rebuilds itself, now not in Lan Zhan's form but again the form of the corpse he and the juniors had first encountered. It tries to fight against his power, but it stands no chance.

Lan Zhan steps forward, Bichen already unsheathed and ready to cut the corpse down, but Wei Ying shakes his head. He turns to the corpse, "Now, my friend, let's figure out what you are."

Wei Ying slams a talisman on the creature's chest and watches in satisfaction as it binds the creature completely. It squirms and tries to break the binds but to no avail. Seeing that the prisoner is secure, the juniors, healthy and hale, rush forward, gathering around him in concern.

Wei Ying smiles and meets Lan Zhan's eyes over their heads. 'Ah,' He thinks with something like heat curling in him, 'still furious.'

Indeed, Lan Zhan is furious. His eyes are dark and tracking all of Wei Ying's movements. His smile takes on an edge and he tilts his head to the side, baring his neck just slightly. Lan Zhan's eyes narrow and lips thin.

"Aiya," he pats the children indulgently, "Let your senior go, your Hanguang-jun is getting impatient."

The juniors flush red, and mutter excuses to leave. Wei Ying looks at Lan Zhan and reaches forward to pull him, but that movement shifts his sleeve to show the red markings and he finds his arm in the other’s grasp as Lan Zhan pulls him closer, so Wei Ying’s weight is entirely on his body as if he's hugging him. He's startled.

"Ah, Lan Zhan what're you—" he cuts off mid-sentence as Lan Zhan curls one hand around his waist, holding him close, and the other raises his hair, letting air brush against his nape. The sensation tingles; Lan Zhan knows his weak spot and with the energy flow from earlier it's sensitive, and Wei Ying flushes figuring out—"Lan Zhan, wait, wait—Ah!!"

His back arches and he shivers as Lan Zhan’s lips infused with spiritual energy land on his neck and he continues with a sharp bite, one that lets Wei Ying know just how displeased his husband is, how worried he had been and how thankful he now is that they are safe. Wei Ying can't help the squeak that comes from him at the action, but he is not hurt. The bite is followed by a tender kiss, one that spreads his husband's spiritual energy through him, chasing away the redness of the spider-webbed marks on his arms, filling him with comfort and at the same time lighting a fire in him.

"Wei Ying is careless," Lan Zhan says, lips moving against Wei Ying's skin when he doesn't even pull away to speak, "I have been worried, Wei Ying was gone, alone."

He says the last part softly but Wei Ying hears it anyway with their bodies together, he can feel his warmth, their heartbeats and breaths mingling together, he can feel him and Wei Ying feels at ease, Lan Zhan’s words make his heart ache, 'Aish his beloved', "Lan-er-gege," he begins, his voice mellow and teasing, "Lan-er-gege, I felt you," he says, tracing Lan Zhan's back with his fingers as his breathing hitches. "I wasn't alone,” he finishes.

After waiting for a moment to soak in the comfort, Wei Ying leans back and looks at his husband, before leaning in to pull him into a kiss Lan Zhan leans into him, desperate and fierce. A strong arm curls around his back, holding onto him tightly. Wei Ying feels fond as he cups his husband's face, making soothing noises in the back of his throat even as the kiss grows heated. He pulls away with a gasp, chuckling when Lan Zhan doesn't let go, dipping his head to kiss along his jaw, "Aiya, husband, we're in public. Your uncle could arrive any moment now."

Lan Zhan doesn't let go and Wei Ying yelps when sharp teeth sink into his flesh once again, "How cruel to your poor Wei Ying!"

"It would seem you're well, Wuxian," An amused voice interrupts them and Wei Ying startles, looking beyond his beloved to see Lan Xichen watching them in amusement. Wei Ying pushes Lan Zhan away and, this time, his husband parts with him reluctantly to bow to their brother. There's not even an ounce of shame on his beloved's face and Wei Ying feels flushed. How unfair.

He turns to greet Lan Xichen. "Da baizi! Yes, I'm okay!" Lan Wangji's arm around him tightens and Wei Ying squirms slightly. Their robes are already in a complete state of disarray. "Lan Zhan!" he whispers though he's pretty sure it’s still loud, and, sure enough, he hears a chuckle as Lan Xichen shakes his head slightly.

"That's a relief," he smiles at them, which Wei Ying returns just as bright, "I will not hold you up further," he says gently, and adds a joyful and teasing, "I'll go let Uncle know."