Wei Wuxian takes another shallow sip, resting his head on Lan Wangji's shoulder. "Shijie would make sweets, sometimes," he says. "Lotus scented biscuits and jellies. And of course, her lotus root soup, though that tastes nothing like the blossoms."

He sighs, rubbing his cheek against Lan Wangji's robes. "I wish you might have tried some when we were home. Before Lotus Pier burned."