Wei Ying will be just expecting him. He may be growing bored with his work, or freshly inside from the woods and smelling of spring growth, or reclining on their bed with his hair around his shoulders and a lurid novel in his hands, a dozen teasing phrases of half-veiled love ready on his tongue. Lan Wangji knows that he will be delighted to see Sunny alongside his dinner, no matter what is occupying his time this evening. "Thank you for your help," he tells Sunny, and then he makes his way to the stairs, all of these precious things held with care.