( He laughs without meaning to, not cruelly - you can tell a privileged boy anything, but he's a little charmed. )

No, it was just off. You wouldn't want to make your friend ill now, would you? I didn't think so. And in the end it would have felt the same.

( The ruined substance he takes back over to the pot, pouring it in to a chorus of muttering noises from the ghosts. That done he removes the apron he'd borrowed and shakes out his sleeves again. )

I think I'm done. ( Back to Lan Xichen. ) Do you need to deal with them? ( The ghosts, he means. The muttering gets even more aggrieved. )