Jiang Wanyin is presently staring again. Openly, and open-mouthed. Has it been this long since he last saw Lan Xichen? The years since Wei Wuxian's death have been a blur between all of the loss and grief and raising his nephew and running his sect. He does distantly remember spending more time than expected with Xichen when they were young, their brothers often running off together for atrocious stretches of time. One particular occasion he recalls Wei Wuxian volunteered to room with Lan Wangji before anyone else could get a word in edgewise which left the other room's occupancy to, well.

Jiang Cheng can't really recall what the actual stay was like, probably because it was so awkward he tried to block it out completely. Still, between that and the time they spent together during their studies in Gusu, he's been well aware of Xichen's above average looks, his irreproachable decorum, his kindness, his insightfulness, his intelligence. Jiang Cheng failed to remember him possessing quite this much grace. That the very act of pausing to take in the fragrance of such a haphazard bouquet can prove to transfixing, and then Xichen speaks to him again and Jiang Cheng is possessed of the notion that he needs to jump into the water right now and swim away before he somehow embarrasses himself in answer. He's able to resist, but only because he feels locked into place, looking after Xichen wide-eyed in what might be a familiar, boyish awe.

"I find them quite ugly," he manages with a self-conscious sniff, answering as only Jiang Wanyin can. "But perhaps you are right and it's simply unfair of me to judge how they look compared to the person holding them."