"Thou hast a heart," he murmurs. It's what he wishes he told Gertrude -- no. It's what he wishes he could have told himself. He kept trying to shut his heart away, to stuff down that swelling feeling in his chest. But Lan Wangji feels everything fully, loves with abandon, would hold a man for thirteen years in his heart after being flogged for defending him. He put a brand to his chest just to share a scar with that man he thought was forever lost to him. To feel no pain, he would have to be heartless. He simply held that pain inside himself, until it was safe to let it go. That's trouble with these memories, Claudius thinks wryly. You can't let something go if you don't know where to put it.