"I'm starting to feel," says Lan Xichen, "that this was a counterproductive suggestion." Wei Wuxian looks down onto the pristine, tranquil cold springs of the Cloud Recesses. Sitting in the water, their bare shoulders rising like dumplings carefully spaced in a steaming-basket, are a large number of Lan disciples. "They seem to be doing better," he says, encouragingly. "If they--oh, no, I see what you mean." At the near bank, someone has pressed someone else against the rocks and is kissing them frantically.

Eight years after the death of the only person Lan Wangji has ever wanted, his dragon Bichen inexplicably rises for her first mating flight.

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“I would still like to be kissed,” Wangji says, and his hand is very hot on Lan Xichen’s cheek. Perhaps one of them has a fever, or they both do. He opens his mouth to ask if they should open the window for some cool air. His brother kisses him as if that is what Lan Xichen had intended. He will not be sure, later, whether it was.

It isn't even an accident, precisely—that might be the most humiliating thing about it. Lan Wangji had tasted the tea, expecting it to be precisely what it revealed itself to be; Lan Wangji had wanted to feel its effects, to gauge them, although he had expected them to be mild. He had brewed the tea himself. An entirely uncoerced and foolish act. Lan Wangji has a misadventure with an aphrodisiac. It works out for everyone.