This is not about whatever foolish games the infatuation plays with his mind. It doesn't matter. It never should have mattered, this entire past night. He could not be there for Lan Zhan, but he has the chance to be there now: that is what's important. Later he can go back to his foolishness, but right now --

Wei Wuxian reaches across the table, covers Lan Zhan's shaking hand with his own, and holds tight. Their hands are warm. No blood streaks across their skin, threatening to make them slip free of one another. There is no cliff. No whispered pleas for Lan Zhan to let him go.

He doesn't let go.