On the willows there, we hung up our lyres

For several long moments, Lan Wangji is quiet. He notices how deliberate Galahad is with his breath, how his chest rises and falls where he's nestled into Lan Wangji's arms, and so he matches it, slow and even. Aornis can take memory, but surely she can't take feeling. Surely she could not keep Lan Wangji from loving Wei Ying, trusting Claudius, or wanting to protect Galahad. The reality of those feelings is so stark. They strike him as utterly indelible.