( He still feels a phantom, invisible gore sitting over his skin. The itchy closeness of it makes him want to claw at something, get his nails under the viscera. But Lan Wangji is right - and oh, how he galls at that - there is nothing of the old Ghost Valley Master left to haunt him with. And soon, once he returns home, the cage itself will be broken down. And so he straightens his shoulders, pulling himself from the way his shoulders have tightened like a boy's, meets the open doorway of the building with a glance. )

Don't tell anyone of this.

( He doubts Lan Wangji is the type to gossip, but still. He has seen the bleeding insides of Wen Kexing's chest now. That would be useful to a crueller man.

Then, with more honesty, as though he remembers the kindness. )

I thank you for your help, Lan Wangji. You have been kind. I ask only that you would not think differently of me now. I much prefer it when you look at me like I'm a scoundrel.