"Several times." There is a story here -- the family banquet Lan Qiren hosted in lieu of a wedding once they returned from their elopement and their long travels afterward. Bowls of bitter herbal soup, which Wei Ying could barely drink. Lan Wangji drank them all for him, then retired to the Cloud Recesses kitchens to cook him Hunan-style dishes in the fashion of this very restaurant. Wei Ying presumed they came from that restaurant and Lan Wangji did not bother to correct him.

He won't succumb to arrogance and tell that, although it does make him nearly smile for a moment to recall Wei Ying's delight.

Instead, he plucks the teapot from its spot on the bamboo tray and leans forward to fill Claudius' cup, then back to fill his own. "The demon Crowley spoke to me," he says, and then pauses for a single beat. "Once the silencing spell I placed on him ran its course."