Sixteen years was a long time. But Lan Zhan had so carefully burned every memory he had of Wei Wuxian in his mind, unwilling to let go of a single second, no matter how painful. And it was painful, to hear the derision in Wei Ying’s voice, but he can’t claim he doesn’t deserve it. He deserved far worse.

Carefully, he swept his robes back as he knelt next to him, making sure they didn’t get trapped beneath him or dirtied, and then he pulled his long sleeve gently out of the way as he reached out again. He didn’t touch Wei Ying’s skin, his long delicate fingers instead gently tugging the ripped fabric to the side so he could glimpse beneath.