...what is Lan Zhan saying? His voice is so muddled by sleep that Wei Wuxian can't make it out. Only a few words emerge here and there: something about a flute, and perhaps mountains and seas as well.

But they perfectly follow the melody Lan Zhan first sang to him so many years ago.

He wrote lyrics, too.

Much more awake than he was a moment ago, Wei Wuxian draws the song to a close, then gently prods Lan Zhan in the chest. "Lan Zhan. Are those lyrics? You wrote even more?"