Something cracks open silently in Lan Wangji's chest, a feeling like the first time A-Yuan wedged himself into his lap at a restaurant in Yiling. He gives Magnus' hand a gentle squeeze, not stopping the flow of qi. "Magnus," he says quietly, reluctant to dispel Magnus' illusion but equally reluctant to let it continue. That would be cruel.

Spotting an innocuous and empty sitting room, he steps aside and into it, but doesn't release his hold on Magnus quite yet.