Lan Xichen's expression softens, and he's about to offer his own condolences, when Shen Yuan exclaims something about the teapot.

"What about the--"

There, on the table, covered in frost crystals and no longer giving off steam, but a faint, frosty vapor, is the teapot.

Lan Xichen's brow wrinkles in befuddlement as he stands to go inspect the talisman.

"That's odd... I'm sure I drew it right."

There's a crunch of accumulated frost as he pulls the talisman free, offering it over for Shen Yuan's inspection. Indeed, there are no flaws whatsoever in the design.