Wei Wuxian keeps in mind the staging itself, the dimensions of it, and the sting and the pain of his own transformations. Beings formed from pain do not necessarily rise above it, as he knows. There are breaking points.

There are times where everything becomes a jest, and you just one more broken piece of the game board. When everything loved is taken away, and there's nothing you could have done to change it.

The audience is rapt, and he flits his gaze over the scenery, hears words and tilts his head up to look skyward. A beautiful day, indeed. "There was no warning," he says, looking up. "Was there."