Lan Zhan smiles, and Wei Wuxian feels an answering grin spread over his face, far bigger and brighter. How could he react any other way?

He takes a long swig of wine and settles in. Lan Zhan certainly seems to be moving all right -- the slow deliberation such forms require, especially to move so smoothly, can be just as taxing to the muscles as a quick whirlwind of strikes. He studies him closely for any hitch of movement that might speak to deeper pain. So far, there are none.

It is really, truly, deeply unfair how graceful he is, though.