Lan Zhan loosens his grip, indicating Wei Wuxian should as well, and he forces himself to draw away. He nods as he wraps both hands around his teacup. There isn't much tea left in it; soon, he thinks, it will probably be time for Lan Zhan to leave.

"Or they will go back to the nightmares I had before," he jokes, half-heartedly. "Where my flute has suddenly turned into a chicken and yet everyone expects me to play it just as normal."