He knows it is in Wei Ying's nature to come up with the most ridiculous things to try and solve the smallest of problems. He loves that mind, that mind in constant motion, endlessly whirring, its output of the most inventive and creative of things.

But he also loves Wei Ying's kindness, his softness to the people he loves and the ones he thinks he can help, and that is another thing he loves about his husband, his genuine capacity to care. He lets himself be held for once, to shrink, to feel small, encircled in big arms, protected from all the harm around them.

Wei Ying asks if he'd like to talk about it, and the truth is, Lan Wangji never really wants to talk about anything. But he offers, "he was dying." He bites the inside of his lip, and tries to steady his voice as he can feel it start to quiver all over again. "I was leaping after you. At Nightless City. But when I looked, I was holding his hand."

And Wei Ying knew what that specific imagery meant, how that story ended. He dreamed this dream often, sticking out in his memory, because at first he kept thinking about what would happen if only he had been less careless, if only he'd used his authority, if only if only if only. He had felt so helpless to pull Wei Ying back, but he knew that had been his choice. He knew Wei Ying would always choose freedom, to live and die by his own hand. He had come to accept it.

Sizhui had looked scared. That sends shivers down his spine.