"I know." It's quiet, barely above a whisper, but it slips out anyway. He does still view him too kindly. He cannot stop loving him, and it has been too easy to look at the Meng Yao here and see the same one who had saved his life from the Wen. Who saved his life here. He tells himself that he knows what Meng Yao is capable of, that this time he is asking questions and putting actions behind his words, but there is a reason that he asked Wangji to keep an eye on him.

Lan Xichen does not trust himself.

And he knows that particular quality of roughness in Huaisang's voice, because he has heard it in his own. He has thought of course you were not enough, and there are times when he still does.

"It is easier to see the choices someone else could make than it is to see your own, and love is not always enough even for those who are not broken." He swallows, a little rough. The last person he told any of this story to was Wei Wuxian, who does not even remember that he did so. "My father loved my mother more than anything else in this world. It did not buy her safety, or security, or happiness. It bought her a prison, and a life ended too soon."

Or perhaps his mother was broken, too, perhaps others would say she was incapable of love. But all he remembers is how Wangji would look forward to their visits, and how she looked at him with such care in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Huaisang. Anyone you love should have the sense to see that you are more than enough."