That...actually makes more sense than whatever jumbled thoughts Lan Zhan had offered about poisoned water. That makes very, very good sense.

But he's not certain he cares.

"Wei Ying. Wei Ying," he prods, smiling softly as he is hit with another wave of warmth and sudden inspiration. "If I get Wei Ying more ale, will he let me do his hair?" he asks, figuring it can't be the strangest thing happening as people around starting to lounge in the piles of leaves.