Xue Yang doesn't even look at his sword strapped to Xingchen's back. Watching the other man move and breathe is far more captivating even than his own precious sword. He still doesn't regret handing everything over when only his sword had been asked for. Not when it had gotten Xingchen to move back in with him.

The scold has him laugh though, even as he lets himself be led inside, sans basket. "That's where the job took me today, it's alright, Daozhang." The continuing hints of care and concern are more than enough to make the pain vanish.

But he's also not going to just ignore the question. Not from Xiao Xingchen. So he prods at the arm, tugging cloth away without regard to making fresh blood seep out from under the forming scabs. "Four slashes across the whole left arm," he informs the other man, tone unconcerned.