Wei Wuxian wants to cry out of frustration alone, feeling picked on and punished for a moment's curiosity. He leans his weight against the counter, shucking off his robes and struggling with the ties around his forearms. His fingers are fumbling and still tingle where the oil made contact with his skin.

"I'm trying," he insists, unable to keep the needy whine from his voice.

"Lan Zhan, why won't you help me?"

He doesn't like admitting to weaknesses, but this drug is a force to be reckoned with. There's another off-balanced moment, as he makes for the tub, still in a thin pair of black linen pants, and he has to hang onto the towel rack as he attempts to ease himself into the tub.

It works, for the most part, though there's a loud thud as he slips, his elbow smacking into the tub as he falls the rest of the way in, making a pathetic pained sound.