Saying as much as he does without blinking at the apparent absurdity of it all is what keeps a splutter confined to a sound of protest, Wei Wuxian only shaking his head in unthought denial before Lan Zhan's mentioned. Saving worlds, multiple worlds? Saving handfuls of people was often enough beyond his capacity, the absurdism in asking for help saving far more than that is boggling. As long as what this person says is true—in part, or whole.

"Lan Zhan's here?" Confirmation, perhaps, but that's alarming for other reasons, just as it's reassuring for yet more. He lifts a hand, bringing it to his forehead and pressing the tips of his fingers against his skin, hard. "This is more than I bargained on waking up to today, I, ah, saving worlds? Using our powers." Asking a man who works with the resentment of the dead to save worlds isn't ridiculous, but he feels the situation is to an extent. "Hua-gongzi, if it's not too much to ask, how long have you been on this train vessel assisting in the saving of worlds?"

Running off to find Lan Zhan can wait for a moment. He's apparently not going anywhere, and so information, something historically difficult for him to get out of Lan Zhan, comes first.