Claudius is right, he thinks. Lan Xichen has enough of his own worries and troubles, the toil of running a sect from seclusion and the everyday pain of his memories of Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao. Lan Wangji knows his brother. Lan Xichen's face isn't so subtle as his own, but its gentle smiles can hold their own puzzles to unravel. He could see that Lan Xichen was, with all his grief and weariness, truly eased to see his cold and distant younger brother finding a place somewhere outside the regimented Cloud Recesses.

He's quiet again as he remembers his brother's arms around him, the clean smell of the Cloud Recesses and Gusu tea, his name in Lan Xichen's warm voice. It may be that he can never show Claudius the back mountain dotted with soft white rabbits or watch with amusement as he looks in disbelief at the four thousand and counting rules carved into the Wall of Discipline. There is, however, a request he has been meaning to make since Claudius passingly called him by his title the month prior.

"Claudius," he says, perhaps a little abruptly. "You may address me as Wangji, if you would prefer."