"You are loved, Wei Wuxian," she says steadily, although she feels herself coming apart inside. But when she has nothing left, the only thing she can cling to is bloody-minded composure. "And I believe you still harbor love in your chest, beside the resentment. Strange bedfellows though they are."

Her voice becomes low; gloveless hands writhe on the coverlet.

"I spoke scathingly of Lan Wangji before. I spoke in cruelty and envy. If I could be trusted so entirely--I will stand under the shadow of the sword. If she holds it. I would die for the chance to be forgiven."