[ Having been here some days, his clothes still smell like the hanshi at Cloud Recesses, lingerings of sandalwood and wildflowers from the gardens. A cool sweetness, low and woody as it wraps around Wangji where it also belongs and shrouds him in its own sensory comfort, lost in long billowing robes. Xichen brings his hand on an arm up to cup the back of his brother's head and briefly hold him there as they hugged when boys, a reminder that Wangji is safe when Xichen feels the fist behind his clothes. ]

I am not sorry to be where Wangji has need of me, nor should he be.

[ His hold eases slightly, letting him regain his composure or break away if he wishes. Xichen smiles with a slow, knowing blink. ]

Wei Wuxian is here, you say. Has he been attending you?