"It was often the manner of the offering more than the offer itself," he says, voice mild and dubious as he kisses the top of Wei Ying's head.

He ought to put his hair back up for him but there is something scandalous about having it spill all over Lan Zhan's pristine, white robes so he leaves it as is. The comb is set down and replaced with idle fingers as he leans them both back to lie down. "Embarrassed Lan Zhan. Had never been so angry," he murmurs, remembering being even more livid at the embarrassment of having been enchanted and apparently having less than no tolerance.