Wei Wuxian shivers, as unused to lips touching this part of himself as sunlight. "I thought I imagined it," he admits, "The way you used to look at me when I pulled it up to work the rice paddy." He's not been well enough to do that in ages, and before the thorn, the snow had been too thick.

He closes his eyes, enjoying the slow journey of Lan Zhan's mouth. "Shall I keep the sight only for you?"