Wei Wuxian's smile grows at the kiss. He accepts the comb and turns around, beckoning for Lan Zhan to do the same.

The scars do not look any less terrible in the light of morning than they did the night before. A sick knot tightens in his throat; he swallows it away, gathering Lan Zhan's hair so it may fall softly over the marks. He draws his fingers through it in an initial coaxing, as soft and gentle as if they were still lying side by side in bed.

Once that is complete, he sets to work properly combing it with the same care and focus Lan Zhan displayed.