The fig splits under the maid's attention, ripe and heavy with juice that flies at her face and drips down her fingers, aching for a ready mouth.

Wei Wuxian allows a lazy observation of the lady as she approaches, the appreciative look that is her due, paired with a nod, and then nothing else about it less than focussed on person, rather than the portrait she paints in sheer gossamer and silk.

"Winning an inheritance, as it is. Lines of protocol are what they are, and never let it be said you did not fight for what you earn." No, not for a family with undead haunting their private grounds, and at that, his lips tick up at the corners. "I must admit, I've never had a private encounter quite as laced with adrenaline as the one I was recently enough invited to by shared pleasant company. Scintillating times."

But, of greater import:

"You already have those ways? I admit it's a comfort to think barren fields may not be left to remain so indefinitely."