The sentiment isn't any kind of surprise. Lan Wangji has already felt the truth of Claudius' love in a thousand ways: every game of weiqi, a gift of their time to one another; the kind and gentle way he can walk Lan Wangji through the maze of saying aloud when something is troubling him; the impossible honor of the word brother, when Claudius could just as well never have trusted anyone to hold that responsibility again. Hearing it aloud affects him nonetheless, pulls his heart open with tenderness. These words have never come easily to him. Even with Wei Ying, he says them rarely. There lives in him some fierce, unreasoning instinct to protect such a vulnerability from the light of day.

Claudius, in another declaration of disarming kindness, has already stated his intent to guard Lan Wangji's heart. He's handed the words to him; he must know by now that it is often simpler for Lan Wangji to merely hand words back to people, polished anew with his own meaning.

Lan Wangji leans his forehead, ribbon and all, on Claudius' shoulder. "I love you," he says, and he can't be anything but deeply serious about it. "I would thank you if I had not already forbidden that between us."