It will always gall him, hearing the peerless First Jade begging him for forgiveness. Jin Guangyao could hardly bear it back in their world, and it is no easier for him to endure it now. Still, the more impossible thing would be to tell Lan Xichen to stop, or to push him away entirely. So instead he allows himself to be pulled into that embrace, bends willingly into the arms that hold him like he is something to be treasured, rather than something that poisons anyone that touches him for too long.

He closes his eyes, lets out a shaky breath, and curls his arms securely around Lan Xichen's shoulders and waist, breathes in the scent of his skin and the sandalwood fragrance of his hair. So be it then. If he is to be poison, then for Lan Xichen, let him be an inoculant against anyone else wounding him so savagely in the future. He will ruin anyone foolish enough to threaten his tender heart ever again.

"No," he whispers softly at last, fingers curled into his hair. He turns to rest his forehead against Lan Xichen's temple, eyes closed, and speaks into the close space between them. "Please, Er-ge, Lan Xichen, what choice did you have? What choice did any of us have?" Even Da-ge had been trapped into his doomed course by the war; what could Mingjue have done but dedicate himself to his cultivation when the alternative was the destruction of his sect? Jin Guangyao shakes his head and goes on, "I am begging you to stop punishing yourself over what can't be changed." He draws back just enough to frame Lan Xichen's face between his hands and look into his eyes. "What can I say to make you stop treating yourself so cruelly? What can I do?"

What can I do, he doesn't say, to help you understand that you could never do anything to me that I would not forgive? That I have not already forgiven?

He stares into his eyes, searching and helpless, and strokes his cheek. "Tell me," he whispers. "I'll do anything."