He cups the charm in his hands, staring. As if afraid he will tarnish the silver, he rubs his thumb across the engraving, feeling the gentle curve of the lotus petals and the swirls etched around it.

(If only Lan Zhan had known years ago that kissing Wei Wuxian and giving him such fine, thoughtful gifts was a foolproof way to make him be quiet! Perhaps it would have happened much sooner.)

"Lan Zhan," unsteadily, as his smile grows again. "it's beautiful. How did you -- ?"