"Oh," says Wei Wuxian at once, "You must, it is my least favorite task." But the thought of Lan Zhan's long fingers in his hair each day, massaging his scalp and meticulously coaxing out tangles...this is a tub that must be made with stout material indeed.

He cocks his head. "I think I would like washing yours, though. Even if it were not attached to you, it is like silk. Mine has its own mind when it is wet."