[ It was the kindness that broke him, that broke any remaining hold on his pride in front of Hanguang-jun. He sobbed, pulling his sleeve up to stain his tears against the ivory and gold threaded silk. He was not accustomed to kindness, though he'd seen a larger share of it here than he was used to. Raised between two pillars - one so deep in his grief that he lashed out at any sign or symbol of his enmity - the other so committed to his name that Jin Ling's ostracizing among his own peers went largely unmentioned. Kindness was not the balm on which he was raised, and he had no idea what to do with it, offered now by the one person he knew deserved to never give it to him.

He tried to stop the tears, his breath hiccuping as he reached out, as he took another loquat like the peace offering he thought it to be: hesitant but wanted more badly than he could openly admit.

Salt tears shifted taste as he bit into it, but he didn't care. He was eating because he was told to, rather than because he wanted to. Because he couldn't say he would stand with Wei Wuxian, not in so many words, not without the grief and disappointment of his parents and his ancestors rising up in his throat to choke him.

He couldn't say it.

But he was going to do it, anyway.

He sniffed, rubbing his face with his sleeve again, the fruit half eaten, his eyes still lowered.

He doesn't say thank you, though he hears Wei Wuxian's voice in his head, telling him. I'm sorry. Thank you. Neither leave his lips. Instead: ]

I can tell you. About what happened. If you want to hear it. No one - no one in this place seems to want to talk about it, but I can tell you if you want.