Lan Wangji's eyes widen. The cut on his finger closes, as though it was never there, but that is not the surprising part. The surprising part is the clean, bright flash of his own memory, pulled to the fore like a fish hook has rummaged in his mind: Wei Ying, malleable under Lan Wangji, their hands linked as their qi cycles between the two of them with all the ebbing and flowing spiritual power that entails -- speaking of dual cultivation --

There may be the slightest pinkening to the tips of Lan Wangji's ears as he stares at Magnus. He could speak, but he can't say for certain whether Magnus saw the same thing he did.