Wei Ying’s gaze is so intent on his face, Lan Wangji can feel it, even without looking him in the eye. Wei Ying can read him so well. Almost as well as . . . Lan Wangji swallows. Even thinking the name feels like a dishonor in this moment, as his body is humming and pulsing at the familiar, much-trodden path his thoughts are slipping down.