[ there is a flicker of surprise when Lan Zhan helps him with the robe, helps him pull it over the deep crimson he usually wears, the contrast so very different from his usual dark grey and black. it is-- nice. whether he means the robe or the closeness with Lan Zhan isn't clear to even himself.

for a moment, Wei Ying just stands there eyes lingering on the folds of the robe, the delicate details around his chest, fingers coming up to trail against them lightly, before a faint smile flickers across his face. he shakes it off though, shakes off the feeling of something else, before turning to Lan Zhan and linking their arms.

it feels right, to tug Lan Zhan along, even if he doesn't have to.]

Come, we don't want to be late. Though I am sure they would expect such a thing from me, best not to tarnish your image.