He definitely hasn't imagined it. This grown up Lan Zhan seems different, like the years have made him soft around the edges. He hasn't sent Wei Wuxian a single cutting look since meeting him. Well, hopefully that's some of A-Yuan's influence, he can't help but think.

This tea is warm and soothing and familiar, not like the strange brew he'd tried earlier in the casino. He should probably give Hanguang Jun some space, since he's not treating his wounds any longer, but he feels comfortable here at his side, leaning lazily on the low table, sipping his tea.

He wants to say more, but where does he even start? There's been so much left unsaid between them. Wen Qing's reminder of the most difficult words to say doesn't go unrecognized, but maybe it's better not to lead with those.

"I feel like I've asked you so many questions," he smiles faintly, "but I don't have much I can tell you in return."

News tended to be a little slow after you were dead.