It isn't like him to not notice. Maybe it's just how different this place is, how everything seems to be assaulting his senses at once and forcing him to try to balance himself that keeps his perception to a strange, muted low.

Or maybe it is just the last thing he expected to see, lost in a strange world, away from everything he knows.

He stares, for a few good seconds, as he watches the children drag the man down and toward him. He's sure he's hallucinating, for a moment. His lips part, just barely, a word about to escape them but not quite making it.

This is impossible.

He knew Wei Wuxian had somehow returned to the waking world. He'd seen it. Or at least, he'd heard it. He'd been there, on Dafan Mountain, when a song that should never have been played had drifted to his ears. When he found a familiar figure in dark robes playing a flute. 16 years. He'd searched for 16 years --

But this wasn't now.

This wasn't Wei Wuxian returned from the dead. This was Wei Wuxian, the memory burned into Lan Zhan's mind. This was his worst regret.

The words twisted unspoken in his throat for several seconds, as he wrestled with what had to be a vision. And illusion. A hallucination. But then, almost unbidden--

"Wei Ying."