“The differences are evident,” Claudius says. “As evident as the differences between a man who hunts to feed his fellows, and a man who hunts to satisfy a thirst for blood and power.” But Claudius recalls what Shen Qingqiu told him about hardening his heart by refusing the reality of people he knew were destined to die. Both Luo Binghe’s reign and Lan Wangji’s life had that in common: many deaths, of many people Shen Qinqiu could not personally mourn, because they didn’t feel real to him. Claudius shakes his head at that connection — he sympathizes, but there’s still so many deeper motives at play, and conflating Luo Binghe and Wei Wuxian’s sins seems foolish.

“I find it telling what men do with power,” he continues, “and how they use it for themselves or others. Thy husband used his power the way a benevolent king should, but never does. For the care of the people under his protection. Thou art a similar man, so devoted to those in your care, so ‘tis no surprise he and thee are devoted to each other.” Claudius says this with incredible fondness for them both and the love they bear. “Luo Binghe, on the other hand, is a miserably lonely man. He uses his power expanding his empire as a means to end to his loneliness, or lashing out in choler.” In a way that’s piteous, at times, but must be easier to accept for Shen Qingqiu. He and Lan Wangji both suit their partners, but that’s the end of their similarities.