When Lan Wangji wakes in the morning, a dull haze perpetuates over his mind, and he knows, instantly, the mistakes he's made. He can't entirely recall the night before - just in fits and starts - but he's not that surprised.

It's hardly the first time he's lost his self control and given in to drink, since Wei Wuxian disappeared.

He sat up, slowly, gracefully, a mild headache echoing in his head. He ignored it as he stood, walking to the bathroom. He still found these rooms bizarre, but they were clean. And they offered him a moment to double check.

No wounds. At least he had not tried to mark himself, this time. He watched in the mirror for a long moment, raising his finger tips to touch his chest, the old brand mark above his heart. When he had given it to himself, he had never expected another would see it. Now he had to make sure that no one did.

He dressed himself again quickly, and stepped back into the room, shame making his shoulders heavier than they were otherwise.

"Wei Ying," he murmured, to test and see if the other man was awake. Otherwise, he would sit, and meditate, and wait. And hope he hadn't made an utter fool of himself the night before.