The word strikes him like a slap. Wei Wuxian's stomach plummets.

"You think that -- ?"

He doesn't know why he does it: the miserable guilt etched on Lan Zhan's face; the half-formed memory of how peaceful he felt upon waking, before he realized how shameless he'd been during the night, even for him. But before he can second-guess his impulse, he reaches to grab Lan Zhan's hand.

"Lan Zhan, no. If I am not at fault for the ceremony going as it did, then neither are you."