A smile touches her still-pale lips, and he thinks she must be thinking the same as him: that he's never seen Lan Wangji move without absolute grace and precision.

Ciri's gloved fingers curl around Lan Wangji's hand, weak but warm. "No," she says, her voice still a rough murmur. "Only a little tired. Lan Wangji..."

Her spring-green eyes are alight with weary happiness. "Oh, it's good to see you, my friend."