The music page falls from his grip, fluttering to the floor. Then he stretches out his fingers, tracing over Wei Ying's horns, touching his hair, his face and his shoulders. This feels indulgent and Lan Zhan averts his gaze, his cheeks pinking.

Why is this demon lord so familiar? Why does he feel so much for him? The music hurts him too and he grips Wei Ying's sleeve, his head tilting sadly to the side.