Wei Wuxian laughs at that, leans back in his chair and cradles his cup, empty by now, in his hands. It feels nice, having things to hold onto with no expectations. It's amusing, hearing about Lan Zhan doing what he can to avoid the incessant annoyance of village requests for petty pleasings.

"Oh, don't be fooled, he's never had endless patience. Lan Zhan has a temper," he says, shaking his head, "But he's also well tempered."

By time, by loss, by war, by peace, by responsibility. They don't hammer an unblemished whole, one instead rough and sharp in ways that Wei Wuxian found compelling, frustrating, and attractive.

"And he's gracious, and grateful, more than most realise. Kinder too."